“I know her.”
“You said you haven’t spent a lot of time with her since she was basically a kid. A lot could have changed since then.”
Grace released a sigh. “I’m a good judge of character, and I’m telling you, Katie is still the same person she’s always been. There’s no way she ran off like the police are saying.”
“I’m just saying you could be wrong,” he said firmly. “We can’t afford to miss something because you’ve made up your mind that Katie is a saint.”
“I just want you to trust me a little,” Grace snapped. “Give me–and Katie–the benefit of the doubt. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Ben wanted to argue the point further, but he bit his tongue. Grace had never really been upset with him before, so far as he knew, and he didn’t like it.
Still, he was skeptical.
Or maybe this job had just made him lose faith in people.
“So you think there’s something to the trafficking possibility?” he asked as they pulled onto the beachside road that led to the Mistflower.
To his surprise, Grace shook her head.
“Believe it or not, I actually agree with Detective Hayles. I don’t think she fits the profile of a trafficking victim.”
“Sure, but what if Jade’s right?” Ben pressed, easing the car into the front gate of the Mistflower Resort compound. “She may not have put it in the most delicate way, but it’s not totally far-fetched that this criminal ring may have high-end clients looking for someone different from the usual victims.”
“I’m not saying it’s impossible. But my intuition tells me it’s something else we haven’t thought of yet.”
Before Ben could offer any of his own theories, he was forced to slam the brakes, narrowly avoiding a girl in a visor who had wandered off the sidewalk and into the driveway.
Grace raised a hand to her mouth, gasping in horror as she saw what the girl was staring at.
A plume of acrid black smoke rose above the Mistflower, so huge that it almost blocked out the sun.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
GRACE
Her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She was sure of it.
She knew that she should breathe slowly, in and out, but her lungs didn’t want to cooperate.
The fire was huge. It was orange and hot, licking at the hollow spaces where windows used to be, incinerating the air that dared to touch it.
The sound of crackling and popping and hissing filled the air for a few seconds and then went quiet again as the windows of the SUV slid closed, sealing them away from the smoke.
Ben said something, but he was very far away, and she couldn’t make out his words.
She could feel the pressure of her seatbelt against her chest, holding her down against the seat so she couldn’t run away.
She was trapped.
Just like before.
No.
A part of her protested, shouting at her from deep within that she was safe, that the fire wasn’t close enough to hurt her, that she could unclip her seatbelt, that she could breathe.
But her body didn’t listen.