"There's a good chance Daisy's still alive," Nicky said. "However, the girl in this picture was murdered, Francis. And we think whoever killed her now has Daisy."

  "Oh, my God," Francis said, shaking. "So... so what do you think?"

  "I think Daisy was kidnapped," Nicky said. "I think the killer took her--and that's why she's missing."

  "Oh, God, oh God, oh God," Francis said, his hands shaking. "I didn't know Daisy was in that much danger."

  "I know you didn't, Francis," Nicky said softly. "But whoever did this is dangerous. They wouldn't hesitate to hurt Daisy."

  The thought of the killer having his hands on that girl--that was too much for Nicky. She wanted to go after them. She wanted to find them and stop them so badly, but she had no idea where to even start.

  "Was there anyone strange at the festival recently?" Nicky asked. "Anyone who maybe made some of the girls uncomfortable, or anyone who just seemed off?"

  "No," Francis said. "The only ones who made me uncomfortable were the press, but I don't think they're the ones to blame."

  "The press?" Nicky asked.

  "Well, they were the ones who made Daisy feel like she had to do something drastic to stay relevant," Francis said. "I mean, she's great at acting, but she's not a star in the conventional sense. Darker roles suit her style. She knows that. But they were always so demanding of her. They wanted bigger things from her, and that's why she wanted to quit the festival."

  Francis was definitely a good source of information for them. It was obvious he knew a lot about this.

  "And Daisy had no enemies?" Nicky asked. It was a standard question--although she had a strong feeling that this killer, this kidnapper, did not choose girls out of a personal vendetta. Amanda Smith had been taken from a festival, and now Daisy.

  Maybe he just showed up and took his pick.

  "None that I know of," Francis said. "She was a sweet girl."

  Nicky nodded.

  "Okay," Nicky said, "but we need to find Daisy. Do you know anyone, or any places, she might go to if she was fleeing the island?"

  Francis shook his head. "I-I don't know. I mean, she was always very independent. She was trying to make it as an actress, you know. She didn't have time for that sort of thing."

  "She didn't have time for dating?" Ken asked.

  "No," Francis said. "I mean... no. She's very independent. I mean, she does have friends and things. She does have an interest in other people, but... but she just... she's very focused on her career, I guess."

  Nicky nodded. "I understand. But if there's anything else you can think of, Francis, I need you to tell me."

  "Honestly, I wish I could help more, but I don't know," Francis said. "I'm so useless... I can't even help Daisy..."

  Nicky sighed. The interview was wrapping up, but this man had attempted suicide--they couldn't just let him wander back out there to finish the job.

  "I'm going to have you admitted into a hospital so you can get help, Francis," Nicky said. "Do you consent?"

  Francis looked at her with sad eyes, then nodded. "Okay. I have to be there when you find Daisy."

  "We will find her," Nicky said, and she meant that.

  She would tear this town apart for answers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The marvelous lights lit the stage around him. He pranced around, frolicking on the stage like it was meant for him.

  As he danced through the night, he recited his lines, playing the role of two characters at once--he was just that good.

  "Oh, Margaret, you shan't leave the castle grounds!" he recited to himself.

  "But Sir, I must," he said back to himself. "I must be free!"

  "Nay, you shall stay as you are!" He replied back to himself. "You shan't leave the castle grounds!"

  "I must!" he cried out.

  "Let me!" he cried back.

  "I must be free!" he screamed.

  "No, the world is too cruel!" he retorted to himself.

  "I wish to see the outside world; my life imprisoned here has made me that way,” he responded in a dramatic tone.

  “You have a duty to the king!” he yelled at himself.

  “I must go!” he yelled back.

  “Then I must stop you!” he responded.

  He spun around and jumped off the stage. He slipped through the crowd and made his way to the front of the tavern.

  “I’m going to stop you, Sir, by any means necessary,” he continued.

  “I will, Margaret, by any means necessary,” he responded back, to himself.

  “But, Sir, how will you stop me?” he questioned himself.

  He danced across the stage again, twirling, feeling like the characters were alive inside of him. He could play any role.

  Just as he was about to move onto Margaret’s soliloquy, the stage light moved.

  He froze.

  Anger layered over him, settling like volcanic ash. The stage light had been moved.

  It was supposed to stay still.

  Balling his fists, and completely pulled out of the play, he turned to the woman who was operating the lights. The actress, Daisy, was chained to a chair, controlling his stage lights. It was her job, after all, and he had trusted her with the task.

  But she’d just messed it up.

  Her mouth was gagged, but she whimpered as he stomped over to her. “You stupid girl!” he shouted. “I told you—keep the lights on me! Do not point them at the sky!”

  Daisy whimpered and cowered away in the chair.

  Her eyes were wide, as if she wanted to cry out, but she couldn't, because he'd gagged her.

  She flinched as he swooped down to her, and he tore the gag from her mouth.

  A whimper escaped her lips as she tried to move, but she couldn't with her hands bound behind her back.

  "Do you understand me?" he asked in the most deceptively calm voice imaginable.

  "Yes," she gurgled.

  "Do you understand that I'm trying to do you a favor? Why must you act this way?" he asked, like she was the one who'd done something wrong.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I was just trying to--"

  "Do you think I'm stupid? I know what you were trying to do--you were trying to ruin the play! You were trying to take my spotlight, weren't you?" he asked, his voice rising a few octaves.

  "I'm sorry," she begged. "I just wanted--"

  "Shut up!" he screamed.

  "I want you to help me with this play, but you just want to ruin it, don't you!" he shouted.

  "I'm sorry!" she begged. "I'll do whatever you want!"

  "Then you will help me with my play, and you will not ruin it!" he demanded.

  "Yes, Sir!" she agreed.

  "Good," he said, petting her on the head. "I'll let you get back to work. But I won't forgive you for this," he said. "Don't mess it up again."

  He was starting to think he'd made a mistake by trading Amanda for this girl. Amanda had been a terrible actress, but she had controlled the stage lights well as he'd rehearsed.

  But it would be worth it soon. Once Daisy was conditioned and ready, she would be able to perform with him too. Like Amanda, she would learn exactly how he liked things and she would do them right.

  If she didn't, she would die--and he would simply choose another.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nicky needed some air.

  Standing outside of the hotel, while Ken was inside getting them set up with a room, Nicky stood with her arms crossed and looked up at the night sky. There was a warm wind blowing, gently shifting and playing with her brown hair.

  She looked up at the stars and felt their presence as if she were part of them.

  The guilt of losing Amanda was weighing on her. As a BAU agent specializing in missing persons cases, it was never easy when a victim was found dead instead of alive. She thought of Amanda's family, and how devastated they would be to know that, after all this time, their daughter had been close to being rescued--but just didn't make it out.

  But now that Amanda was dead, it was more difficult to find the answers Nicky was looking for. She was a strong woman, but Nicky wasn't impervious to pain. She felt pain acutely, more so than the average woman. She didn't know why, but she'd learned to live with that. She'd learned to take that pain and turn it into anger, and then use it to fuel her. She knew she was always working without a net, that there was no guarantee that she'd find her victim in time to save them, but her skill was strong, and she always tried her best to do her job. But this time...

  Her phone, in her pocket, started to buzz, and Nicky pulled it out.

  It was Chief Eric Franco.

  She swallowed hard. He probably wanted to go over what they'd discovered earlier, but Nicky was full of nerves at the thought of it. Either way, she pressed accept.

  "This is Agent Lyons."

  "Lyons," Franco said. His voice was tired and weak. "I heard about what happened with Amanda Smith."

  "I know, Chief." Nicky's throat tightened. "She... we couldn't save her. I'm sorry. We failed."

  "I know." Franco's voice was flat, emotionless. "I understand. You're a good agent, Nicky. I'm not saying it's your fault. It isn’t." Franco's voice was more stern now. "But it's your job, Lyons. It's what you do. And you didn't do it this time."

  "Yes, sir." She lowered her head in shame.

  "But I know you," Franco cut in. "I know how hard you and Walker have been working for these girls. I'm told another one has been taken."

  "Yes, presumably by the same guy," Nicky said. A steely determination rose in her, and she clenched her fists. "I won't let him kill this one, sir. I won't."

  "You better not, Lyons," Franco said. "We can't afford another dead girl. You need to save this woman, and you need to do it fast."

  Nicky's nostrils flared, and she clenched her jaw. "I know, sir."

  "I'm doing all I can to support you and Walker," Franco said. "But there's a fire under my ass with this too. I need my agents to get this done. Is that clear?"

  "Crystal, sir."

  "Good," Franco said. "Keep me updated. And good luck."

  The line went dead, and Nicky looked at her phone.

  For a moment, she stood there, in the darkness. She let the night consume her, and she let the guilt consume her. She let it all take over her, until she was a shell of the woman she'd been just minutes before. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to change. She didn't want luck. Luck was for those who were weak. Nicky was never lucky. She was strong, she worked hard, and she didn't take no for an answer.

  She was going to save this girl. In truth, she didn't even want to break for the night, but she also knew it was late and there were no more leads to run down, at least not yet. She needed a shower, and she needed sleep, so she could be at the top of her game first thing in the morning.

  She had to be.

  "Nicky?"

  She turned to see Ken, standing in front of the hotel doors. He offered her a lopsided smile.

  "Hey," she said.

  "You okay? I got us the key card," Ken said, flashing it.

  Nicky nodded, turning away. "I just talked to the chief."

  "Yeah?" Ken said. "What's up?"

  "We have to save this girl," Nicky said. "We have to, or else the chief is going to crucify us."

  "I know," Ken said, frowning. "But we haven't got anything else to go on."

  "Just have to keep digging," she said. "One lead is all we need."

  "I know," Ken said. "But we're running out of time."

  "Then that's exactly why we have to be extra careful," Nicky said. "We can't screw this up. We can't. Not this time."

  They walked into the hotel, and Nicky's eyes focused on the elevator. It was old-fashioned, and she wondered how many people had passed through this building, how many of those people had worked in the past and how many of them had children. How many of their children had grown up, gotten jobs, and left this city? How many had stayed?

  Life was a fleeting thing, and Nicky knew that more than most people. She had been working at the BAU for years now, and in that time she had seen more dead people than the average person did in their entire lives. She was still young, and she had so many years ahead of her. She just hoped she could handle it.

  She hoped she could handle all of it.

  She couldn't bring Amanda back, but she could save Daisy. She could change this girl's fate and make sure she lived. That was what mattered. That was what mattered the most.

  ***

  Nicky stepped into the hotel room with Ken behind her, feeling like she weighed five tons. They were both quiet and exhausted, and through the windows, the darkness swept over the sky. It was so late now, and Nicky knew she had no other choice than to pack it in and start fresh in the morning.

  There were two beds in the modest-sized hotel room, a good distance apart, and Nicky's chest clenched. She hadn't worked closely with Ken since they'd confessed their feelings for each other, but a sense of awkwardness hung in the air--what did it mean?

  Did it really change things?

  Nicky was uncomfortable with commitment. She'd had her share of one-night stands, but that wasn't what Ken was to her. She was attracted to him, yes, but she didn't want to move too fast or mess things up. They were both quiet as they dropped their bags off on each bed. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

  Before they could speak, Nicky said, "I'm gonna take a quick shower."

  "Okay," Ken said, picking up a folder from his bedside table. "I'll have a look at this stuff."

  Nicky made it to the bathroom and locked the door. White tiles covered the floor, walls, and ceiling, and the shower was in the corner. Nicky took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Her body was still tense from the events of the day.

  She undressed and stepped into the shower, her mind staticky. She turned on the hot water and let it flow over her. She craned her neck and watched the steam float up from the tub, and she sighed.

  They'd taken another step in their relationship, and she couldn't deny how much she enjoyed it. But it didn't change her goal--she still wanted to find Daisy. She took a deep breath, letting her tension wash down the drain. But alone in the shower, darker thoughts crept in.

  What if Felix could lead her to Rosie's kidnapper?

  And if he could--would Nicky like the answer she found?

  As determined as she was to find Rosie and the kidnapper, she also knew that if--when--she did, she would be getting the answers she'd wanted for so long.

  And she might not like them.

  What if Rosie really is dead? she wondered. What if I'm over ten years too late?

  The thought made her insides clench. Nicky pressed her forehead to the cold shower wall as the hot water poured over her.

  She missed her sister so much. She just wanted to save her. But what if she was chasing a fantasy?

  Memories of their childhood together ebbed into her mind. When she was a kid, the world had seemed so limitless. She remembered one time in particular, when her family was as whole as it ever was--when her mother was still alive and Rosie was still there, and her father was less of a drunk than he was now. The cool spring day had stretched on forever, and Nicky and Rosie were playing in the front, giggling and chasing each other around the pole in their yard. The sun was low in the sky, and soon they'd be sent inside.

  Nicky called, "Last one to the tree is a rotten egg!"

  "You're on, Nicky!" Rosie cried back, taking off.

  Nicky ran after her sister, a little more slowly. She didn't want to fall behind.

  She was still a few steps behind Rosie when the door to the house snapped open, and Nicky's father stepped onto the porch.

  "Rosie! Come here! Now! And you, too, Nicky."

  Nicky sighed and followed Rosie up the porch steps, towards the door.

  Her mother was standing inside the house, her eyes dark with worry. These days, Nicky didn't think of her mother much--it hurt a lot to know she was gone. The truth was that Nicky's family had always been broken. But that night, something strange had happened.

  "We're having dinner as a family," her mother had said. "Your father just got a new promotion, and we need to celebrate."

  This was rare, as they often spent their nights eating dinner on the couch in front of the TV, or not even together at all. Both Nicky and Rosie had longed for some normalcy, like they saw on TV, so this excited them.

  Rosie had bounced up and down, and Nicky had been so proud of her little sister for being so happy.

  All of them sat at the dinner table, and Nicky could still remember the way the candlelight flickered across the table, and how the food was delicious. Nicky and Rosie were the last ones to finish, and Rosie had eaten until she was stuffed, her cheeks so red. Nicky couldn't remember a time when she'd been happier.

  But it was short-lived. The dinner ended. Her father cracked open a beer and retired to sit in front of the TV. Her mother went back to reading her novels upstairs. Nicky and Rosie were left alone to clean the dishes.

  They had each other, though. And Nicky remembered feeling happy about that. Their household could be lonely, but they'd always had each other.

  Damn it...

  The memory was making her cry. She washed the tears down in the shower so Ken would never see. She'd spent enough time in here--she needed to get out.

  Nicky got out of the shower, her shoulders hunched.

  She slipped on her bathrobe and stepped out of the bathroom. As she turned the corner, she saw Ken standing by the window, looking out into the night. He was shirtless, with just a pair of sweatpants clinging to his waist.

  Nicky's heart skittered in her chest and her breath caught.

  "Hey," Nicky said.

  "Hey," Ken said, turning. When he did, his gaze lingered on her body. Nicky's cheeks flushed, and she tried to ignore the way he looked at her. Her hair was a wet mess, but she didn't care. She'd put on one of the hotel's complimentary robes, and water dripped down her face and body.

  "Uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, his face flushed. "I should shower too."

 

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