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“Can you tell which computer they were sent from?” I ask.
“Not this one,” Tucker says. “But—” Keys click as he types something in. “I can find out which computer sent the emails, then if we can get our hands on a list of all the addresses for the devices on the network, then— Bingo.” He writes a series of numbers down onto a piece of paper, then offers it to me. “This is where they originated from.”
I stare down at the numbers. “My gut tells me this has everything to do with Lani.”
“Then let’s start with her computer,” Tucker says as he stands and crosses over to his sister’s desk. “All right Lani. Let’s see if you listened to me about password protection—and she did.” He beams up at us. “I’m in.”
“How did you get in so fast?” Riley asks.
“Well, when you’re the one who taught everyone in your family how to set an uncrackable password, it’s easy enough.”
“You can get into all of our stuff?”
“Sure can, Riles14.” He grins, and Riley glares at him.
“I’ll be changing my password as soon as we find her.”
Tucker ignores him as he taps a few things on her keyboard, then holds out his hand for the piece of paper. I offer it to him and watch as he compares it to something on the screen. “Your gut is right. The emails were sent from Lani’s computer. The internal IP address is the same.”
The pit in my stomach grows. “If you helped her create an unbreakable password, then how did someone get into it?”
Tucker shakes his head. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”
LANI
When I wasyoung and suffering from night terrors, my mom told me to tattoo scripture onto my heart for moments when I needed it most. That way, even if I were terrified and barely able to form a rational thought, I could call upon the Word of God to bring me comfort.
My dad would hold my hand in the night, reminding me that no matter what I face, Words in red willalwaysguide me home again.
Now, as I sit in the dark, drugs running rampant through my system, tears in my eyes, feeling more alone than ever, remembering Psalm 13 is all I can do to keep my head.
“‘O Lord, how long will You forget me?’” I whisper into the darkness. “‘Forever? How long will You look the other way? How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day?’” My voice cracks on a sob. I’m so weak, so broken. Why has He not brought me rescue? “‘How long will my enemy have the upper hand? Turn and answer me, O Lord my God,’” I cry. “‘Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die.’”
I sniffle, choking on another sob. “‘Don’t let my enemies gloat, saying “We have defeated him!” Don’t let them rejoice at my downfall.’” I take a deep breath, trying to focus on my connection with Him. Because I know, even in the midst of this nightmare, He won’t leave me.
And no matter what happens, I will keep praying. Keep reciting His Word. Because it’s the only strength I have left. “‘But I trust in Your unfailing love. I will rejoice because You have rescued me. I will sing to the Lord because He is good to me.’”
I tug on the restraints holding me down. Sweat slicks my skin, and I don’t want to think about what else might be on my body. Unless my abductor is cleaning me when I’m unconscious, I’m likely covered in my own waste.
I begin to shake, body trembling as I struggle to remain conscious while I pull at the restraints. “God, please!” I cry out, summoning my strength. “Please help me, I can’t?—”
My wrist comes free, and I freeze, stunned for a second before it kicks in that this might be my only chance at freedom. That I’ve come loose and haven’t heard my abductor outside all day.
Frantically, I fumble in the dark to release my other wrist, then try to sit up to get my feet free. Dizziness sets in, and I have to close my eyes to breathe through it as I try to reach my legs.
As soon as they’re free, I rip the IV line out of my arm, choking back a pained groan as I shakily reach for the bedside.
But I miss and fall face-first onto the hard floor. Copper tang fills my mouth, but I ignore it and the pain as I crawl the few feet toward the door, the sliver of light beneath it working like a beacon calling me to freedom.
My heart pounds as I grip the door handle and turn.
It opens, and I fall forward. I suck in a breath of clean, unstifled air. I shove up to my feet and keep my hand steadied on the wall as I head for the door. There’s nothing but the old couch in this single room, and as I rush outside, I note that the building isn’t a house at all, but an old cabin in the middle of a field.
A long driveway will carry me to freedom, but it’s also the only way in or out. Which means if my abductor comes, they’ll see me.
Still, if I go too far in any direction, there’s no telling how long it’ll take me to get to safety. At least the road has to lead somewhere.
Starvation and dehydration make my limbs feel heavy as lead. Whatever drug cocktail was in that bag has made it impossible for adrenaline to kick in, so my movements are labored and slow. Vision blurry, I stumble down the porch steps, falling and scraping my knees against the rocks.