Page 104 of Stolen Dreams

Dammit.

“Was worth a shot, but I assumed it wouldn’t go through,” Emerson states.

A knock echoes through the room and startles everyone. Emerson opens the door and Tymber rushes inside. Out of breath, Tymber slaps a piece of paper on the table and points.

“Call pinged the north tower.”

An ounce of relief trickles in and gives me premature hope. “Where exactly is the north tower?”

“Not far from the Freeman Estate,” Emerson states.

“So he’s still in Stone Bay?” There’s no way to mask my optimism.

Tymber shakes his head. “Possibly, but not guaranteed. The tower has a fifteen-mile radius.” He leans over the table and draws a circle on the paper with his finger. “The call came from somewhere in this range.”

I wince at the size of the circle.

“It’s something to work with,” Emerson says. “And it’s more than we had before you walked in the door.”

“What now?” I ask, desperate to move, to do something, anything, that will bring Tucker home.

Emerson glances around the room. “I update my officers, then we divide and conquer.” He points toward the printed map on the table. “We pair off and search every inch of this fifteen-mile radius.” Emerson levels me with his gaze. “Did the caller say when they’d reach out again?”

I shake my head. “No, just that he’d be in touch.”

Tymber growls. “Piece of shit.”

My thought exactly.

“Until the next call, we search as if Tucker’s life depends on us,” Emerson states with too much ease. “We stay in constant communication. No matter how insignificant you think something is, share the details of anything you find.” He holds my gaze. “It’d be best if you rode with an officer or Tymber.”

I nod and look to Tymber. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Tymber dips his chin in my direction.

Everyone starts for the door, but Emerson steps in front of it and holds up a hand. “Donotengage if you find them.”

Muttered agreements echo through the room.

“I mean it. We don’t know who this person is or what they’re willing to do. Tucker’s life is at risk. We can’t make impulsive, reckless decisions. As far as we’re concerned, this man is dangerous.”

We exit the conference room, weave through the bullpen to the lobby, and walk out the front door.

Before I follow Tymber around the block to TWSIS, Abigail hands me my keys and says she will ride with our parents. Dad tells me where he plans to start, and Tymber shares which area we will scout. We promise to check in via call or text every thirty minutes or sooner if we find something.

Mom steps up to me, frames my face, and holds my stare. “We will find him.” She nods. “He’ll be home and safe soon.”

Her words repeat in my head until her proclamation settles in my bones.

We will get him back safely, swiftly.

THIRTY-ONE

KAYA

Goose bumps danceover my skin as a bone-deep chill settles in. An inescapable bitterness that grows colder with each passing hour.

I wake my phone for the millionth time and swipe the screen to see if I missed a notification. Nothing. Like every previous time. No missed calls. No voice mails. No text messages.

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