Kevin looked around frantically, his whole body heaving. He was trying to keep his feet running, but he was slowing down.

  “Stop running,” Nicky said, her gun still raised. “You can’t run forever.”

  Kevin stopped in his tracks, his chest heaving. Finally, he threw his hands up in surrender. Ken and Nicky continued to walk toward him.

  “Come on,” Nicky said, her gun still pointed at him. “Turn around, flat on your stomach, hands behind your head.”

  Kevin did as he was told, his body trembling. Nicky and Ken cuffed him, and with his hands behind his back, they easily lifted him onto his feet.

  He refused to look at them, no matter how hard Nicky tried to meet his eyes. He just averted her stare. She couldn’t help the anger that coursed through her as she got a close look at his face. He had short black hair and pockmarks on his cheeks, his eyes as dark as coal. He looked like a guilty child now, and not a criminal who’d just shot at them and caused them to race through Wahoe Bay, endangering citizens and property.

  Most importantly, he could be the one who had Delilah. Who killed June.

  “Well, Kevin?” Nicky asked. “You know why we chased you, don’t you?”

  He sulked away. “I… I—do…”

  “Good,” Ken said, crossing his arms, “then you won’t mind coming down to the station with us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Nicky squinted at the bright lights in the Bahamas police station as she and Ken led Kevin into the interrogation room. They had finally caught up to him, and they’d brought him into the station directly. He didn’t say much on the drive—but Nicky had a feeling he would be talking soon.

  He looked at the ground as they led him into the room, his hands cuffed in front of him. As soon as he entered the room, he dropped into a chair, his face sullen.

  For a moment, there was silence. Nicky and Ken stood by the door, waiting a moment before starting.

  “All right,” Nicky said, crossing her arms. “Tell me where she is.”

  Kevin looked up. Wordlessly, he shook his head. Then he managed, “She?”

  “Don’t bullshit me.” Nicky went over to the table and sat down, leaning her elbows forward. “I know who you are. I know why you’re here. I know what you did to June, and I know what you did to Delilah.”

  His eyes widened as she said the women’s names. He stared at Nicky, and she stared right back at him. Finally, he spoke.

  “I… I didn’t do anything to…” he said.

  She glanced back at Ken, who sighed and sat down next to her. Now facing off against Kevin, they both had their work cut out for them. With his speech impediment, Kevin was definitely not much of a talker, but they needed him to confess.

  Because the more Nicky looked at him, the more guilty he became in her eyes.

  He fit the profile perfectly. A loner with a criminal record. Speech issues. Someone who didn’t have their own voice, so they were using the voices of others.

  He could easily be the one who had sent Nicky the recordings. If he was, then he already knew who she was.

  She decided to tug on that thread, to gauge his reactions.

  “Kevin, you already know who I am, don’t you?” Nicky said.

  He looked at her with big, guilty eyes, then shook his head.

  “You do,” Nicky said. “You’ve been sending me recordings. Recordings of the women you’ve been holding hostage.”

  Kevin frowned at that, then shook his head rapidly. “No—I have—no—women?”

  Nicky’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been sending me recordings, Kevin.”

  “I—no,” he said again, a little more desperately this time. “I—didn’t do—anything!”

  Nicky looked back at Ken. He nodded, then leaned further in toward Kevin.

  “Look,” Ken said. “We can either keep going around in circles here, or you can tell us what you know about Delilah and June.”

  Kevin shook his head again, but his face had gone pale now. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was clear that he wanted to say something—but he didn’t want to admit anything either. His fear was palpable in the room; Nicky could feel it coming off of him like a wave of heat.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he spoke up again.

  “I… I don’t know anything,” he said finally in a small voice. “I swear I don’t.”

  Nicky watched him carefully for any signs of deception, but all she saw was fear and confusion on his face.

  “I swear,” Kevin said, his voice trembling. “I had nothing to do with any of this—I don’t know who those women are.”

  He looked away and rubbed his forehead, but Nicky felt he was lying. He just didn’t want to admit it, which meant she needed to find another way to get him talking.

  She took a deep breath and tried again.

  “Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s start from the beginning then. Tell me what you’re doing in Wahoe Bay. You moved here from Miami, correct?”

  Kevin nodded. “My—brother’s—house.”

  Nicky paused. Kevin’s sibling—that was mentioned in his file. In their hurry to get to him, she had overlooked the detail that Kevin’s brother might live here in Wahoe Bay. She nodded at Ken, a silent request for him to confirm Kevin was telling the truth. Ken took out his phone and checked the information, then shot her a nod. So, it was Kevin’s brother’s house. Nicky focused on Kevin.

  “You have quite the criminal record,” Nicky said. “You were arrested for stealing from the company you worked at, and it seems you struggle to listen to authority.”

  She saw his cheeks flush, his face drop. “I… I do… but I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

  “You stole money from your company,” Ken said. “That’s wrong.”

  Kevin just shook his head, his eyes welling with tears. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I just—I wanted to help my brother, and I wanted to help my mom…”

  “So you stole,” Ken said, crossing his arms. “And your mother was sick?”

  Kevin nodded. “Yeah… she is… but… but I never hurt anyone—”

  “You hurt June Peterson,” Nicky said. “Didn’t you, Kevin?”

  Kevin shook his head quickly, adamantly denying the accusation. “No! I-I didn’t hurt anyone! I never touched any of those women—”

  “But you were somehow involved,” Nicky said, her voice firm. “You were sending recordings… How did you end up with them?”

  Kevin looked away, his face pale and full of fear. He was clearly scared to admit anything, but Nicky had a feeling she knew what he was hiding. She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes.

  “Come on now,” she said softly. “We know you have something to do with this. So either tell us what happened or we’ll have no choice but to keep this going all night. I don’t believe for a second you would shoot at us, then run away in your car if you weren’t hiding something. So what is it, Kevin?”

  Kevin stared at her for a few moments, his eyes wide with fear. He was clearly terrified, and Nicky could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he frantically searched for an answer that would keep him out of trouble. But then, all of a sudden, his face went blank and he simply stopped talking. His lips were closed tight and he refused to look at either of them, as if he had resigned himself to the fact that they would never get an explanation from him.

  Ken stared at Kevin, his gaze intense as if trying to make Kevin talk through sheer force of will. But still Kevin said nothing, just stared ahead with a haunted expression on his face. He seemed paralyzed with fear, refusing to speak or even look at them. Nicky sighed and leaned back, disappointed that he wasn’t willing to cooperate. She had hoped talking would get him to open up and reveal what he was hiding, but it seemed she had pushed too hard.

  Just then, an officer came into the room, an urgent look on his face. With the door opened, Nicky could hear some commotion coming from inside the police station.

  “Agents, there’s a guy here demanding to see the suspect,” the officer said.

  “Who is he?” Nicky asked, frowning.

  “He says he’s Kevin’s brother.”

  Nicky and Ken exchanged a look before getting to their feet.

  The three of them rushed down the hall, following the officer toward a back room. As they entered, Nicky saw a man who looked a lot like Kevin standing in the center of the room, shouting at officers to let him pass.

  “Hey!” Nicky shouted, and the room went quiet, everyone looking over at them. Even Kevin’s brother went silent, although there was rage all over his face.

  “You,” he said. “You’re the ones who took my brother.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ken asked him gruffly.

  “I’m here for my brother,” he said sternly, his gaze never leaving Nicky’s or Ken’s faces. “He needs help, and I’m not going to let him rot in here alone because of you bastards.”

  Nicky glanced around the room at the faces of the other officers, who looked on apprehensively, as though unsure what to do.

  Nicky sighed. She wanted to interrogate Kevin more—but surely, if Kevin was guilty, then his brother had to be involved too.

  “Come this way, Mr. Finch,” Nicky said, “and we can talk in private.”

  “It’s Jerry,” he cut in, “and you need to take me to my brother now.”

  “We’ll talk to you alone first,” Ken said sternly.

  Jerry glared at them for a few moments, then nodded. He followed Nicky and Ken out of the room, and they soon found themselves in a small, private office.

  They each took a seat, and Jerry sat across from them. He was still bristling with anger, but he seemed to be willing to listen now.

  “I don’t care what you think my brother did,” he said firmly. “He’s not capable of doing something like this.”

  “Your brother shot at us and then fled from us,” Nicky fired back. “He’s guilty of something, and I think you know that.”

  “If he shot at you,” Jerry said, “then that was probably just a reaction. He was scared, because of you people. You ambushed him while he was home, and you scared him into running. You didn’t give him a chance to explain anything.”

  “And what do you think he was going to explain?” Nicky asked.

  “I don’t know!” Jerry exclaimed. He looked away and sighed. Suddenly, his anger melted away, and it was guilt that took over his face. “Just… let my brother go, damn it. Take me instead.”

  Nicky leaned forward, her pulse racing. Was Jerry about to admit to something? Take credit for the crime?

  “What would we take you for?” Nicky asked.

  Jerry sighed. “The drugs, okay? They’re mine. They’re not Kevin’s. He was just trying to protect me. He knows what’s at stake for me, that’s why he shot at you. I guarantee it.”

  Nicky exchanged a look with Ken. This wasn’t going in the direction she thought it would.

  “What drugs?” Nicky asked.

  Jerry shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Cocaine,” he said finally. “We’ve been selling it on the street for a while now. Kevin was just helping me out.”

  Nicky nodded, understanding what was going on now. Jerry had been using Kevin to cover up his own criminal activity, and Kevin had taken the fall for him. That was why he hadn’t wanted to talk when they first met him at his house—he knew that admitting anything would get both of them into trouble.

  But this could be a ruse. A cover-up for what they were really doing.

  “No, Jerry,” Nicky said, “Kevin was arrested on suspicion of murdering June Peterson and holding another woman, Delilah Roberts, hostage.”

  “What?” Jerry exclaimed. He shook his head. “No, that’s not true! We wouldn’t do something like that—we’re just drug dealers. That’s it. I swear to you, we have nothing to do with those crimes. Go ahead, search my whole house, you’re gonna find drugs, but nothing to do with any women.”

  Nicky paused, considering that maybe Jerry was telling the truth. If they searched his place and found no trace of Delilah, or anything linking them to the recordings or June’s death… then they would be in the clear.

  And if that were the case, then they were wasting precious time. Time that could be life or death for Delilah.

  The thought made Nicky’s stomach cinch with anxiety. The fear of failure suddenly came back, more real and tangible than ever before. It was getting late, and Delilah was out there… she needed their help. Now.

  “Okay,” she said, “we’ll check your story out. But if you’re lying to us and we find out, you won’t be able to lie your way out of jail time. Wait here.”

  Jerry nodded gravely, his face still pale with fear. He watched as Nicky and Ken walked out of the room without another word.

  Once alone in the hallway, Nicky turned to Ken, who wore a thoughtful expression.

  “What do you make of his story?” Ken asked.

  “It could be legit,” Nicky said. “We need to get a team over there to gut their house now and confirm. If they are innocent, then we’re wasting time here.”

  Ken nodded. “I agree. Let’s get them on the move.”

  Ken went to walk away. But something in Nicky wanted to stop him—the sudden need for comfort. For a reminder that they could do this, and not fail.

  “Wait,” Nicky said, grabbing him by the arm. She hesitated, only for a moment, not quite knowing what she was going to say. “Sorry, I’m just… do you really still believe we can do this?”

  Ken looked at her for a long moment, his gaze serious and intent. “Of course, Nicky,” he said. “I believe in us. I believe in you.”

  A warmth rushed through Nicky, and she felt an urge she didn’t quite understand. A need she didn’t quite know how to express.

  Her confidence returned, and she nodded.

  “Let’s get moving,” she said. “We can do this.”

  Ken smiled at her, and she felt like she could keep going with that alone.

  “We can do this,” he agreed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Delilah woke up, groggy, in the back of the car. She felt like hell. Her head was spinning and her neck ached and the car was moving, but she didn’t know where.

  She had no idea, for the moment, where she was going, or what she was doing. As the car drove through the streets, her mind slowly started to become clear, and after a few minutes, she remembered everything.

  He had left her here.

  Her kidnapper had left her, bound and gagged in the back of his car, a piece of duct tape over her mouth so she couldn’t make a sound. She could barely move, with her body all tied up, but through the window of the car, it looked like a building was beside her.

  But she was out. Out of his damn basement. Could she reach someone? Maybe someone would walk by, and she could kick at the window?

  She didn’t know what to do. He would kill her soon, she was sure of it. He’d killed that other poor woman, and it was only a matter of time before Delilah was next.

  She wasn’t going to have much of a chance. She would only have a brief moment—if that—to escape. If only she could figure out how.

  She started to cry again, but what was the point? No one was going to hear her, and no one was going to help her.

  Her tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She was crying more out of frustration than anything else.

  It was all over.

  She wanted to say she wasn’t scared. She wanted to say she wasn’t going to be some sobbing mess in the back of the car, crying as she waited to die.

  But she was scared.

  She was very scared.

  She had accepted it would happen, but it was the kind of thing that was easier to accept when it was theoretical. It was easier to accept when it was some other woman who wasn’t her, whom she didn’t know, and whom she didn’t love.

  Now it was happening, and it was all too real, and it was all too terrifying.

  She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to escape. She didn’t know what was going to happen to her.

  She was a crying mess in the back of the car. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and she could feel the tears streaming down her face.

  She missed her life. She had taken it for granted. The small acting gigs she did as a kid, and even her voice work—she had dreamed of becoming a star, but not like this.

  She thought of her life in Miami. All the auditions she’d done, the way her mother had tried to prop her up like an item to be sold.

  She thought of her friends, and the way they had all moved onto new things, new relationships, new jobs, new cities.

  She thought of her old life, and she thought that she had been happy, for all that it wasn’t perfect.

  She didn’t want to die.

  She was a sobbing mess in the back of the car. She didn’t care who she looked like. She didn’t care what anyone would think of her if they saw her like this. She was just a girl, begging for her life.

  Please, someone… please help me.

  She was still tied up and gagged, but the tape over her mouth was loosening. She tried to scream through the duct tape, but it was muffled. She was going to die anyway, so what did it matter?

  Please… someone… please… help me.

  She’d been so desperate to be a star, and now it was all over.

  He was going to throw her body into the sea.

  She would never see her mother again.

  She would never kiss anyone again.

  She would never get to live again.

  She would never get to exist again.

  He was going to kill her, and there was nothing she could do but wait.

  Was anyone even looking for her? Probably not. Delilah was a nobody—no one would remember her, and no one was looking for her.

  Her kidnapper had never spoken. She had never heard his voice. She wasn’t even sure if he had one.

  He had always just been a black shadow in a dark basement.

  He was going to kill her. He was going to take everything from her.

  She thought about calling out for help. She thought about screaming.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17