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“I have to!” I snap at her, feeling horrible. I take a breath and continue. “Mom, if Kyle has him, then every second we waste is another second he’s in danger?—”

“I understand,” she says, her voice breaking. “I know, Logan, I do. But you’re still in pain and they haven’t discharged you yet, honey. You can’t help him like this.”

“You want to help him?” The nurse cuts in, clearly taking my mom’s side. “Then stay here long enough to gain your strength back. You can’t walk out of here right now and help anyone. You just had surgery.”

Fuck, she’s right. I hate that she’s right because what if I collapse somewhere? What if I find them and end up putting Ryder in more danger because I can’t fight back? I know I’m being reckless, but the only thing I want is to get Ryder back.

Finally, I remember Santos and Donnelly are still here. I turn to Santos, who’s still standing nearby, watching everything unfold with a tight expression.

“Send a team to Kyle’s house,” I demand. “Right now.”

There’s a beat of silence as Santos exhales through his nose and glances at Donnelly. “Pearson...he’s one of ours,” he says finally. “Well, sort of.”

My stomach twists. “And that’s supposed to mean what?”

He lifts a hand, like he’s trying to tread carefully. “It means this isn’t going to be as simple as just knocking on his door and dragging him in. He’s connected; his uncle is the Chief. If we’re wrong…”

“I’m not,” I snap. “I know it’s him. He stabbed me, and he took Ryder. I don’t give a shit what kind of access badge he has, he’s dangerous and he’s got Ryder. And if you wait too long, it’s going to be too late.”

Santos hesitates for a moment longer, then nods slowly. “Alright. If you’re sure—and it sounds like you are—we’ll do everything we can.”

“I am, please, just get Ryder back,” I grit out.

Santos nods again. “Okay. We’ll do everything we can.”

I hate feeling so completelyuseless. The waiting and not knowing is killing me. It hasn’t even been that long, but it feels like every second without news is an eternity. Finally, about twenty minutes later, my phone rings and I answer before the first ring even finishes.

“Please tell me you found him,” I beg without any preamble.

There’s a pause, and somehow, my gut sinks even more.

“No one’s here. We searched the whole place,” Santos confirms. “There’s no sign of Ryder at all.”

Goddamn it.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to think, but Kyle is always calculated and careful. He never mentioned a location in any of his emails or anything that could give him away.

But that’s what makes it click.

“There’s got to be somewhere else,” I mutter. “He’s too careful. He wouldn’t bring Ryder to his own house. He knew we were on to him, and I don’t know if he thinks I’m dead or not, but if I woke up, he’d know I’d be able to ID him.”

Think. Think. Think.

Would he go to Ryder’s place? No. Too obvious. And he wouldn’t risk somewhere public, like a seedy motel, because he wouldn’t risk the chance of being identified or heard.

“Does he have access to any discrete locations from beinga consultant on the force? Anything remote, but within driving distance?” I ask, desperation creeping back into my voice. “We need to exhaust every possible option.”

“We’re looking into that now,” Santos confirms. “We’re also sending officers to your place to talk to neighbors.”

“Please look into every possible location he could have gone. Please.”

I hang up before he can say anything else.

My mind keeps reeling. Nurses come in and out to check on me, saying I can likely be discharged in a day or two, depending on how I’m doing, but it still feels too long. Time stands still in this bed, and it feels like this waiting will be my downfall.

Until my phone rings again.

I snatch it up and hit the green button almost as fast as last time.