Page 63 of Her Final Hours

“Jane Doe?”

The stranger chuckled. “You catch on quickly. I want her. Hand her over, and I’ll return your daughter unharmed.”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“Of course it is, unless you want us to mail your daughter back to you in pieces.”

“I don’t understand. If you’ve taken girls before, why not just take another?”

“I have. Your daughter. But that’s not who I want.”

“Then why Jane Doe?”

“That’s of no concern to you.”

“Of course it is.”

“Focus, Mr. Sutherland. Focus.”

“She’s of no use to you. Right now, she can’t remember a damn thing, so if you’re worried that she will give up your name, I wouldn’t fret. She’s told us nothing.”

“You think I’m concerned?” He chuckled. “You’re the one that should be concerned.”

Noah’s heart sank as the weight of the situation bore down on him. He had to buy time to ensure his daughter’s safety. “How do I know my daughter is alive? Let me speak to her; let me hear her voice.”

The stranger spoke back, his voice harsh, his tone carrying an edge. “You are in no position to make demands. You will do exactly as I tell you. Failure to do so will result in your daughter’s death.”

“Why would I do anything without knowing if she’s alive?”

“You’ll have to believe me.”

“Well, if you’re the asshole responsible for all the other missing girls, I think you’ve lost credibility. Put her on the phone, or this ends here.”

Noah knew he was playing with fire, but these situations rarely ended well. For all he knew, Mia was already dead. Just the thought made him want to throw up. He glanced at Ethan. He’d lost so much already. They both had.

“Put her on the phone!” Noah yelled.

There was a rustling on the other end of the line. Noah’s heart pounded in his chest as he strained to listen for any sign that Mia was still alive and uninjured. A faint whimperresonated through the phone, followed by her voice, sending a wave of terror coursing through his veins. “Dad. Dad! Please—”

Before he could offer her a comforting reply, the stranger came back on the line. “Satisfied? Cooperate with me, and your daughter will remain unharmed. Cross me, and I’m sure you can imagine the consequences.”

Noah clenched his fist, anger taking hold despite his fear.

“If any harm comes to my daughter. You won’t get shit, and I’ll stop at nothing to hunt you down.”

The man chuckled. “Oh, Noah, threats won’t get you anywhere. But it might get your daughter killed. You have one job. To follow my instructions to the letter, and then, and only then, will you see your precious Mia. Now, it’s late. A storm is upon us. I’m tired. We’ll speak tomorrow morning when you’ve had time to chew it over. But understand one thing. This is not a game. If you attempt to leave the house, or contact or signal anyone, she will die. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The line went dead, leaving Noah standing there, his mind swirling with a mixture of dread, anger, and determination.

“I’m sorry, son,” Gretchen muttered, rising. “I thought she was in bed. She…”

Noah took off up the stairs and burst into Mia’s room to see it himself. The covers on her bed were pulled back, and pillows had been placed where she should have been. He glanced over at her window, where it was partially up; a cold wind was blowing through.

Noah went over and peered out into the darkness. So much snow was coming down that any chance of finding prints would be lost. Had he been so bold as to take her out of her room? Or had Mia exited for another one of her parties, and he was watching the house?