“He has Wren working on it too,” Kincaid adds.
Wren Nelson, the IT specialist for Blackbridge is a fucking magician, but I have no clue what that man could do that Max hasn’t already tried.
Cerberus has always relied on tech and digital information for missions. A lot of our job is waiting around until things are confirmed, and then we act. I can’t do that today.
“I have to get out there and look for her.”
“I want the teams split the same way they always are,” Kincaid commands as everyone in the room stands. “Newest members, you have your assignments. Ask questions when in doubt. Let’s roll out.”
“Hold tight,” Max says when his phone rings again.
“The car is a nineteen-ninety-eight Saturn,” Colton says when the call connects. “Felding borrowed it from an acquaintance over a month ago. It’s been listed as stolen.”
“Who is the acquaintance?” someone asks.
“We’ve confirmed that the person you’re asking about has no connection to what Felding is do—”
“Who?” I snap.
Colton’s sigh comes through the speakers of the room. “This isn’t Guatemala, guys. You can’t get away with raiding people’s property and manhandling them into complying. We have a team of guys at this person’s house and there’s nothing on the property that shows Felding has been there recently.”
“You’re saying that we run the risk of being arrested?” Grinch growls.
“I’m saying as a Farmington police detective, it’s not in my best interest to know what you’re doing. If it was Sophia that was missing, I’d want you to do everything in your power to bring her home.”
The line goes dead, and we spring into action, heading out to the SUVs.
Kincaid’s hand clamps on my shoulder before I can make it out of the room.
“It would be foolish of me to think that you’ll stay if I ask, but I need you to keep your head out there.”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Chapter 34
Faith
“How old were you when you decided that your life goal was to ruin people’s lives?”
The voice startles me, making me realize I was either zoned out or my body has grown too cold to function properly.
I lift my head as best I can to look in the direction of the voice, but it weighs a hundred pounds. It feels like I’ve been tied up in this building for days, each second lasting hours, but I know better. I’ve been here a couple of hours at most.
“Wh-what?” I ask, wondering if they’re finally speaking because they’re ready to hurt me more or if they’re looking for a way to hold on to their sanity and want to release me.
“You ruin lives.” The voice crackles, making me realize they’re using some sort of device or app to change their voice.
The realization calms me some. If they’re trying to avoid detection, it could mean that they haven’t decided to kill me. Someone with clear plans to commit murder doesn’t usually try to hide their identity. Psychopaths want their victims to see them before they hurt them. It’s one of the thrills of committing heinous acts, looking someone in the eye before killing them.
“I do what’s best for my—” I try to say but the gag in my mouth prevents any real words from forming.
“Answer me!” the person roars, the voice coming from directly behind the huge stage light pointed in my direction.
I can’t open my eyes to look at them, and I’m certain if I make it out alive, I’m going to have a constant halo of light in my vision. I shake my head, trying to make them understand I can’t talk.
“You think it’s okay to destroy families? To send babies to live with people they don’t know?”
I shake my head, trying to run through the list I created with Ethan and Lana. How many people had babies removed? I shake my head when I realize I’m wasting energy trying to figure it out. Knowing who the person standing across the room is will change nothing.
“I don’t set out to hurt anyone.” Another garbled response from me.
“One parent in prison and one they’re no longer able to see. Do you know what that does to a child?”
I nod, my head moving to answer the question without my brain telling it to do so. I know exactly what it’s like to have a parent in prison and one that wasn’t responsible enough to continue care. I also know what it’s like to try and find them after becoming an adult, only to discover my father was killed in prison and my mother died from a self-inflicted gunshot mere months after his sentencing. I know what it’s like to be removed from terrible conditions only to be placed in several homes that weren’t much better.
“You have no idea!” the person roars. “You ruined my life. You ruined my children’s lives!”
Tears streak down my cheeks, disappearing into the gag tied around my head. Is this what real parents are supposed to do when their children are taken?