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I let my entire weight rest against Colt because my legs can no longer support me.

The next click reveals the scene of an accident.

Ambulances.

Stopped cars.

I stare at all the vehicles gathered around the accident site, but none of them is a Porsche.

“It’s not there,” I whisper weakly. “Where is he?”

Ralph lifts his eyes from the tablet to the others for a brief moment, then looks at me, fear written plainly across his face.

Before I can ask anything, his fingers move across the screen.

The image on the TV changes.

He zooms in.

Closer.

The wreckage at the bottom of the ravine becomes clearer.

My breath catches.

A black car.

Or what’s left of one.

The front end is crushed, the metal twisted almost beyond recognition. Smoke still hangs faintly in the air around it.

Ralph zooms in again.

Closer.

And then I see it.

A familiar shape beneath the mangled metal.

The curve of the hood.

The headlights.

My eyes move lower, searching the wreckage for something—anything—that can prove I’m wrong.

Then the camera catches the emblem.

Porsche.

My entire world tilts.

The air leaves my lungs.

For one horrible second, nobody breathes.

Nobody moves.

A loud scream rips out of me.