Tessa pointed to her hands, still tapping out that staccato rhythm on the chair. “S.O.S.”

Casey looked down at her hands, the realization dawning on her slowly. Tap-tap-tap-TAP-TAP-TAP-tap-tap-tap. Exactly the rhythm Colt had been tapping on her palms the night before.

He was sending a message.

The thought was like a light shining on the insides of her body, lighting up everything inside. Giving her a precise and simple hope. She needed to get to a computer and a search engine.

“Morse code,” she said out loud, not meaning to.

A few of the girls turned around, sending her death stares. She covered her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” the producer said. “Do you have a question back there?”

All of the heads turned then toward Casey, who felt a blush immediately hit her cheeks. She tried to ignore the stares and smiled.

“Only what all of us are wondering—when do we get to see Colt again?”