Chapter 11 - THE SECOND CAR
We reached Lauren’s street in six minutes.
It felt like sixty.
Police surrounded the house.
The front door was open.
I jumped out before the SUV fully stopped.
“NOAH!”
“Ethan!”
Ramirez grabbed my jacket.
“Stay behind us.”
I ignored him.
Inside, chairs were overturned.
A lamp was broken.
Lauren’s neighbor, Mrs. Kim, sat on the floor crying.
Two officers were checking the back rooms.
“Where is he?”
She pointed toward the backyard.
“A man came through the fence.”
My chest collapsed.
“No.”
“He grabbed Noah.”
I ran.
In the backyard, the gate hung open.
One officer was on the ground holding his shoulder.
“He hit me with something.”
“Where did they go?”
“Alley.”
Police radioed the vehicle description.
Black pickup.
Mason.
I couldn’t feel my hands.
Then Mrs. Kim called out.
“Wait!”
She held something.
A child’s smartwatch.
Noah’s.
I grabbed it.
The screen was cracked.
But still on.
Location sharing.
I had set it up months ago.
I nearly laughed from relief.
“Track him.”
Ramirez checked the app.
A blinking dot moved west.
Fast.
“They’ve got him.”
Police units converged.
For twelve minutes, I watched the dot move through the city.
Every turn felt like a knife.
Then it stopped.
An abandoned motel near the interstate.
Police surrounded the building.
SWAT went in.
One room.
Empty.
Another.
Empty.
Then shouting.
I heard a bang.
I ran before anyone could stop me.
“Noah!”
“Daddy!”
His voice came from Room 17.
I burst inside.
Noah was tied to a chair.
Alive.
I dropped to my knees.
“Oh my God.”
I cut the tape from his wrists.
He threw himself into my arms.
“I knew you’d find me.”
I held him so tightly he complained.
“Daddy, too tight.”
I laughed and cried.
“Sorry.”
Ramirez entered.
“Where’s Mason?”
Noah pointed toward the bathroom.
Police opened it.
Empty.
Window open.
He had escaped.
“Was Vanessa here?” I asked.
Noah shook his head.
“Grandma?”
“No.”
“What did Mason say?”
Noah looked scared.
“He said he doesn’t need them anymore.”
My stomach dropped.
“Need who?”
“Grandma and Vanessa.”
Ramirez and I looked at each other.
Then Noah reached into his pocket.
“He dropped this.”
A motel keycard holder.
On the back, Mason had written an address.
Old Mill Road.
And beneath it:
SUNRISE.
Ramirez checked the time.
5:11 a.m.
Less than an hour.
I grabbed my son.
“We have to go.”
“No,” Ramirez said.
I turned.
“You’re staying with Noah.”
“My mother—”
“Your son just got kidnapped.”
He was right again.
And again, I hated it.
Then Noah whispered,
“Daddy?”
“What?”
“Mason said something else.”
“What?”
“He said Vanessa was never his partner.”
I stared.
“What did he say she was?”
May you like
Noah swallowed.
“His next victim.”
