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“David, you don’t know that.” His operations brought in recovered victims all the time.

“And how do I say I don’t know what’s better or worse? That we find her in a ditch somewhere, but she wouldn’t be suffering anymore.” David’s voice cracked. “Because I don’t want to think about . . .”

He lifted a hand like a blade between them, shaking it, his fingers trembling.

“Because you do this every day. You know what could be happening to her.” Fury and pain shattered David’s deep bass, and Tick closed his eyes.

“We’re going to find her.” He lifted his lids to hold David’s gaze, pitching his voice low and steady.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Lamar.” David planted a finger in the middle of Tick’s sternum and pushed, hard. “Just don’t.”

“I’m not.” With both hands, he framed David’s jaw, his friend’s chest heaving against his forearms. “I swear I’m not. We’re going to do everything to find her and bring her home, like we would for Tori or Eleanor or—”

He had to push the words out, the taste of them as vile as standing in Vontressa’s empty apartment.

“She won’t even get the same attention.” David pushed at his chest again. “You know that.”

“I know, but we’re going to make sure she does. We’re going to call in every favor we have, you, me, Lorraine, Cait, Scott.” He tightened his hold, David’s fear-tinged sweat dripping over his fingers. Protocol and politics be damned. “I promise you. We’re going to take care of her.”

David’s mouth tightened, the corners trembling, his eyes filling, and a sob sawed across Tick’s wrists. He leaned in, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed to David’s brow.

“I promise.”

The weight sat heavy on the drive home. In the driveway, he shifted to park and killed the engine, resting his head on his folded arms atop the wheel, drawing a couple of deep breaths before swinging out of the car. The sun dipped behind the trees, the sky red and purple, outlining the pines. He pulled in a lungful of damp, musky river air.

“Hey.” Swinging the door closed behind him, he set his bag by the table and dropped his key fob on the tray there.

“Hi.” Printouts spread across the island, a couple of flat boxes from Nick’s on one end, she didn’t look around at him. He stepped behind her, folded his arms around her. Cradling her invisible bump in his palm, he pressed his face to her hair and exhaled.

She covered his wrist, fingers splayed across his hand. He tucked her closer, grateful she understood because he couldn’t get words out if he tried.

After a long moment, he brushed his mouth over her temple. “Damn it, Cait.”

The words hurt his throat, and her fingers flexed over his. “I’m sorry.”

He breathed out again, opening his eyes to study the social media transcripts on the marble. “Are those hers?”

“Yes.” A hint of frustration tightened her tone. “I’m approaching it like an equivocal analysis, and there’s simply so much online activity, much more than we had to go through with Eleanor.”

He clenched his jaw. A year later, he was still pissed over that defiant little debacle. It didn’t matter that a whole herd of Woodfield freshmen had been involved in creating secret social media accounts. She’d scared him to death, the DMs she’d received made him want to track some so-called men down and murder them, and although they didn’t use corporal punishment with their kids, he’d never been so tempted to take off his belt with woodfieldcutie23.

Her jersey number. She’d put her freaking school and jersey number in her username.

And dared to complain about her right to privacy when Caitlin checked her phone.

He’d spent an hour in the gym, getting himself together so he could talk to her rationally. Falcon was still monitoring for increased online threats. It killed him.

“The Falcon’s PR team is trying to build some media interest, locally here and at the national level.” Her mouth compressed, small lines fanning out at her eyes. “It’s distasteful and ridiculous, but if they can spin the young, attractive nursing student angle, at least her face is out there for people to see.”

“Thank you.” He hugged her to him and released her, flipping a pizza box open. His stomach turned over.

“Cary is coming to head a search team if David agrees.” Her quiet voice was huskier than usual. “The Falconetti Foundation is funding a reward. Falcon will match it.”

He paused in the act of pulling down his Old Ezra, the bottle Del had given him when he’d been accepted to Quantico. He’d already emptied his dog fund, putting that toward the reward the family had scrabbled together. Gripping the bottle hard, he met her gaze. “I love you.”

She lifted a shoulder, her small smile sad. “He’s family, through you. We’ll do everything we can.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he set the bottle next to the pizza box and added a glass. “I’m fighting hard the urge to go to Texas and get my girls.”