"This is Mira Phillips," Ken said, sliding over a photo of Mira. "She's the one we're investigating."

  "Oh..." Father Michaels took the photo and nodded solemnly. "She's a member of this church. What happened to her?"

  "We were hoping you might tell us," Nicky said. "Did you hear Mira has gone missing?"

  Father Michaels frowned. "It must not have made it back to me. We're a bit far out from town. Some don't even consider this dock to be part of Vale."

  "But you would have seen the news," Ken said. "I find it hard to believe Mira went missing and that news didn't spread at her church."

  "I am sorry, my child, but I'm getting old. Maybe I forgot."

  Nicky wasn't sure if she bought that. “When was this church founded, Father? It’s… different.”

  “Ah, you want to know the story of Richter,” said Father Michaels.

  He stood up and started walking around the office. “It was years ago. I was on a mission in Haiti, checking up on the church there, when I received a vision. It was a voice, my child, like a voice from God... but it was not God. It was Richter, my late brother. He told me he had been watching me, and he knew I was the one to spread his word. It was to be a new church, and he would lead me there.”

  "Wait," Nicky said, "Richter was a real person?"

  "Oh, yes, he was my brother."

  This was getting weirder by the moment.

  “And… you just went?” Nicky asked.

  “Of course!” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, how could I deny the word of Richter?”

  “Ah,” Nicky said, nodding along. “And you were the first to come here?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I had just gotten here, and Richter himself spoke to me out at sea. He told me to drop anchor here, to set up shop. So, I did.”

  Father Michaels stopped pacing and let out a sigh.

  "Richter was killed at war, you see," he said. "My church--we're strict pacifists. There is no violence allowed. We don't even eat animals."

  “Maybe you should tell us more about this vision you had,” Ken said.

  “Yes, of course,” Father Michaels said. But he seemed to not hear his own words. He was staring at the floor, his eyes distant. “Richter told me, ‘Brother, I’ve been watching you. Just like you once watched me. I have a special place for you in my church.’”

  Nicky and Ken waited. Father Michaels seemed to be lost in his memories.

  “I said, ‘What of my current church?’” He chuckled. “And then Richter said, ‘You will be its leader. You will be the one to spread my word.’ I said, ‘But the church needs the members, Richter.’ He said, 'You will find a way.' And so I did. I talked to members of my old church about my vision and forming a new religion. It took some time to catch on, but we have a good thing going. Not everyone believes in Richter, but we all share the same values. In order to thrive as a species, we must have peace--we must not have violence."

  Nicky nodded, taking this all in. If that was all true... then there really was no reason to believe this church would sacrifice, or harm in any way, one of its members.

  "What about when someone wants to leave?" Nicky asked, thinking out loud.

  "Then they may go," Father Michaels said. "I know we must seem strange. But we are not a cult. We just want peace."

  "Right..." Nicky couldn't help but agree that yes, they were strange. But who was she to judge what made people happy? That wasn't what she was here for. She was here to find out where Mira Phillips was.

  "When was the last time you saw Mira?" Nicky asked.

  "Oh, hmm... not too long ago... what date is it today? She comes every Sunday morning, but I don't think she showed up last time."

  Nicky nodded, making a note of that. So, Mira never made it to church.

  "Oh!" Father Michaels suddenly exclaimed. "But she was here for our evening service, the night before! We are a unique church, you know--we have evening worships every night but Sunday."

  Nicky looked at Ken, and he looked back at her, nodding. This changed things.

  According to previous reports, Mira was last seen leaving her job at the clothing store. Then she came here after that, and she made it to service safe. But she never made it to the morning service.

  That narrowed things down.

  It meant that either Mira was taken after she left the church, or she was taken in the morning as she left, which would line up with the neighbor's story.

  Nicky wasn't sure of the answer.

  But she knew what she did want: security footage from every angle of this dock. Stat.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Minutes later, Nicky found herself in a shack built just off the docks, where an old man in overalls, a bucket hat, and rain boots met her and Ken. Father Michaels had given Nicky the name and number of the owner--Rob Overton.

  The inside of the shack was full of fishing gear and lures, and there was a distinct smell of worms. But there was also a computer and a desk, and Rob eased himself onto the chair as Nicky and Ken stood back. Outside the windows, the moon and stars reflected off the sea.

  "Yep, these docks have been in my family for years," Rob said. "Was my brother’s idea to start rentin' them out, though, and it's been more profitable than my family ever could've imagined."

  Nicky nodded, coming up behind him so she could see the computer screen. "And you have cameras on all the docks?" Nicky asked.

  "Yep," Rob said. "Been at this a while. Always lookin' out for my tenants. Can never be too careful."

  "So, you have footage from all the d-" Nicky began.

  "Hold on," Rob said, typing something in the computer. He was still working manually, so it took some time. "This is... here we go... yes..."

  Rob leaned in, and Nicky leaned in, too. There were images of docks and ships on the screen, as well as a bunch of clips. It was incredibly hard to make them out.

  "Sorry about that," Rob said. "It's not the highest tech thing I've got, if you couldn't tell. But it gets the job done."

  "Rob," Nicky said, "we're hoping to see footage from the dock near the church for both the night of the 17th, and the morning of the 18th."

  "Let's see..." Rob played around with the computer, then leaned in and clicked. "Here we go."

  A grainy image appeared on the screen, showing a dock at night, with flickering lights of lanterns. In the morning, it was brighter, with the sun rising in the back. It seemed like there wasn't a soul in sight.

  "Can you show us a different angle?" Nicky asked.

  "Here." Rob made it so several screens appeared, showing all different angles of the dock. On one dock, Nicky could see a fisherman loading up his boat. They skipped through the footage, and Nicky kept an eye out. Mira should have been showing up around five a.m.

  Nicky watched the timestamp as it moved from four a.m. to five.

  And in a screen in the bottom left corner, that was when she saw it: a young, brown-haired girl, walking onto the dock.

  "Shit," Nicky said. "That's her."

  "Right here?" Rob magnified the screen.

  Walking alone, wearing a hoodie and shorts, was Mira Phillips.

  "Stay on her trail," Nicky said, her heart in her throat.

  This was it.

  They were going to see, firsthand, what actually happened to Mira. It felt almost too good to be true, and Nicky was trembling.

  Rob switched over to the next dock. They watched Mira texting on her phone as she made her way down, following the path that would eventually lead to the church. Nicky recalled walking that same dock with Ken to get there tonight.

  Then, as Mira was on the dock that would lead to the church, she got pulled offscreen.

  "Wait!" Nicky waved Rob to stop. "Can you play that back?"

  "Sure," Rob said.

  Rob didn't see it, but he showed Nicky exactly when Mira walked onto the dock. And then, as she came closer and closer to the camera, he rewound.

  And at that moment, a man's hand appeared in the picture, grabbing Mira by the shoulders from offscreen. Mira gave a yelp, and then her phone went flying out of her hands and into the sea with a splash.

  "There," Nicky said. "Pause it there."

  Rob hit a button, and the footage froze.

  The man had a dark-colored hoodie on, and a mask over his face. But he was barely visible. With bated breath, Nicky said, "Is there another angle of this?"

  "Think so..." Rob switched to another screen, and there, they could see a different angle of the dock.

  This time, it showed the man grabbing Mira--and pulling her onto a boat. Nicky's blood ran cold, but she didn't move. She was afraid if she did, she'd break the spell, and things would all turn out to be a dream.

  Because here it was. Tangible evidence. Proof that Mira Phillips was kidnapped, right here, and put on this boat, by these people.

  But their identities were still unknown.

  "Hold on," Ken said, leaning over Rob. "Zoom in on the boat."

  Rob did as he was asked and zoomed in. The footage was grainy and pixelated, but it was enough to make out the name.

  "Onlooker," Ken said. "That's the name of the boat."

  Nicky's heart was racing. "Rob, how can we track that boat?"

  "I got the plate number," Rob said. "I'll just check the computer to see if it's in the system."

  He typed a bit, and then found a match.

  "Yep," Rob said. "That's the one. Registered to one George Fischer. It's due back here in the morning."

  "Do you know that man?" Nicky asked.

  "Afraid not," said Rob.

  Nicky nodded. This all sounded promising. "We'll look into it. Thank you for your help."

  "Anytime, ma'am," said Rob. "I can't have people going missin' from my dock. I hope you catch the bastard."

  "That's what we do," Ken said.

  "We'll get these people," Nicky said. "I promise."

  And she would--no matter what it took.

  Nicky and Ken left the shack and headed back to the main dock. Surrounded by the sound of waves, Nicky looked up at the stars in the sky. She hoped Mira was out there, alive. Watching her be taken on that video was beyond disturbing.

  "We have to find her," she muttered absently as she and Ken made their way down the dock, back to the parking lot.

  "We will, Lyons," Ken said. "What should we do about the boat?"

  Ideally, Nicky would track it down right now, but it was late, and if the FBI sniffed around too aggressively, she was afraid it would tip off the kidnappers and they'd run for it. "Let's wait until it comes back," she said. "If we try at night, we'll never find it against the water. We'll have to wait until morning."

  "Good idea," Ken said. "Glad you had Rob look into the dock area. That was smart."

  Nicky smiled. Ken was genuinely impressed with her, and it was a good feeling. "Thanks," she said, and allowed the moment to linger.

  With their plan decided, they went back to the car. But Nicky took one last glance at the sea before going in. The rippling water in the moonlight... it reminded her of one place.

  The lake house where she and Rosie had been taken.

  Maybe Mira Phillips was in a place like that, too.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The trees of the forest walled Mira in, like a menacing jungle in the night. She stood there, alone, terrified, listening to the sound of animals making noise, and the trill of crickets.

  It was quiet. Calm... too calm. Her heartbeat pounded in her eardrums. She could pass out and faint from the fear, but she had to stay strong. She had to.

  Keep going, she coaxed herself. Keep going.

  She took a step into the woods.

  It was pitch dark. Mira walked slowly. Leaves fanned over her head, blocking out her view of the stars. It was a warm night, but Mira was cold. She was afraid that if her bare feet made too much noise, walking across the floor of the jungle, that they would find her.

  Then, in the distance, a loud bang erupted over the forest.

  Birds flocked from a tree, squawking.

  Mira's blood turned to ice.

  It was a gunshot.

  She didn't think--she just ran.

  She ran, but the forest was too dense, too full of trees and bushes, and as she ran, they caught at her clothes like a thousand hands.

  But she kept running.

  Then, another sound.

  A deep, loud sound.

  She ran harder, but the more she ran, the more tangled she became in the undergrowth. Her feet splashed through puddles. It started to drizzle. Mira ran through mud puddles, jumping into holes, swimming through the wet earth. Up ahead, she heard the sound of water pounding the earth.

  A waterfall.

  She kept going.

  She was getting closer.

  Mira breathed hard, and when she went to take a breath, it felt as if she had sucked a big, wet sponge into her lungs.

  She heard the roar of the water as she kept running.

  Mira fell over a tree trunk and landed hard against the ground at the edge of the rocky bank of the river. She must have been running faster than she thought.

  But she got up, and she kept going.

  Mira ran down the rocky bank of the river. Her feet skittered across the rocks and splashed into the deep pool of water. Up ahead, the waterfall blanketed off the edge of a cliff. Through it, Mira could make out what looked to be some sort of... tunnel?

  She wasn't sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But when another gunshot resounded through the nighttime air, Mira didn't think. She just ran into the tunnel.

  She ran on, and on, and on.

  And then she stopped.

  She stood at a fork in the tunnel.

  Which way should she go? When she heard a noise behind her, she went with her gut and took a left. She ran for a long time, until her limbs ached. Her feet slapped against the shallow water in the tunnel, but she didn't give up.

  I've been a good girl. I don't deserve this.

  I even followed along in my sister’s weird religion. I didn’t really believe it all, but it made June happy, so I did it.

  Is that not worth something?

  Or did I betray God?

  It this is a nightmare, please wake me up.

  She fell down to her knees, and she began to pray.

  Her words came out in a whisper.

  She prayed for God to help her. She prayed for help from her mother, from her father, from all of her friends. She prayed for somebody, anyone to help her.

  I'm so scared.

  Am I dead?

  Please God, let me wake up.

  But nobody came for her. She heard another shot outside of the tunnel, and so she ran faster, carrying her now-limp body through the tunnel, through the darkness.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As Nicky got back to the hotel room, she couldn't shake the anxious nerves inside her. All she wanted was to find this George Fischer guy and take him down, but she was forced to wait. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the night.

  Ken came in behind her. It was late now, probably time to sleep, but Nicky sat down at the table and opened her laptop. She wanted to do some recon on George before confronting him in the morning.

  "I'm gonna take a quick shower," Ken said, digging into his suitcase, which was open on his bed. "I see you're still working."

  Nicky let out a laugh as she logged onto her laptop. "I'll rest when I'm dead, Walker."

  Ken chuckled, grabbed his things, and disappeared into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Nicky opened up the FBI database, pulling up everything they had on George Fischer of Vale.

  The first thing she saw was the picture of him again. He was a big guy, broad-shouldered, a strong jaw, and a shaggy head of hair. He was in his early fifties, and his eyes were intense. He had a wide, flat nose and a thick, rough beard.

  Nicky glanced back up at the picture and then down again. There was something about his eyes... This man was capable of cruelty.

  Nicky had seen that look before.

  She saw the next picture. This one was from a newspaper article on George Fischer. He was shaking hands with an important-looking man in a suit. The article was a profile piece on George Fischer, one of Vale's most successful... businessmen.

  Odd. For such a rough-looking figure, Nicky was surprised to see he'd done business with those types. Mostly, he transported goods for them.

  Nicky read on.

  The article was old, from a decade ago, but it was still a good summary of George's background. He'd been in Vale his entire life, and he was currently the owner of Fischer's Supermarket, one of Vale's most successful businesses.

  As Nicky scrolled down the page, she saw George's wife and his three kids. Two daughters, twenty and eighteen, and a son, sixteen.

  It said that George Fischer had started out as a trucker, delivering goods to the different companies in Vale. Apparently, he got into it when he was around Nicky's age, and he rode a bike across the country. It was over a decade ago, and he came from a barren town in Kentucky. There was no reason for him to stay in his hometown.

  But Fischer had never been convicted of a crime. In fact, when Nicky triple-checked the database, she saw nothing on him at all.

  That didn't mean he was innocent. It could just mean he was smart and careful.

  Nicky closed the database. She didn't need to read anymore. In the morning, once she was face-to-face with George, she'd get the answers she needed.

  Nicky stood up and sighed. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom was soothing. She took a breath and went out onto the balcony. The night was clear and warm, and the sound of the sea in the distance made Nicky feel momentarily at ease.

  But the tranquility was fleeting. This was no vacation. Nicky had a girl to save--hopefully three girls.

  Just as she was leaning her elbows over the railing of the balcony, Nicky's phone buzzed in her pocket. A call. She took it out, wondering if it was someone work-related--but it was Matt's name across her screen. Nicky frowned. She thought she'd made it clear she wanted to keep their chats casual (and through text). He hadn't called her before.

  "Hello?" she answered.

  "Hey, Nick," Matt slurred into the phone. Right away, Nicky could tell he was drunk. Made sense with the late-night phone call.

 

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