Page 53 of Once Vanished
VoltageVariant: This is about a client of yours.L.Dillard.
The moment he hit enter, Van knew he’d made a mistake.The forum’s activity indicator showed QuantumGhost was typing, then abruptly stopped.The connection remained active, but no response came.Thirty seconds stretched into a minute.Two minutes.
“Damn it,” Van hissed, then typed again.
VoltageVariant: I’m not looking to make trouble.This is time sensitive.
He sent the message, watching the status indicators.Delivered.Read.No response.Van decided to get right to the point.
VoltageVariant: This about a kidnapped girl.
This time, there wasn’t even an indication that QuantumGhost had seen the message.The user’s status had changed to offline.
“No, no, no,” Van muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard.
VoltageVariant: ShadowCipher—L.Dillard has a federal agent’s daughter.Whatever he’s paying you, this isn’t worth the heat that’s coming.This is about a kid’s life.
He hit enter, then leaned back in his chair, the plastic creaking beneath his weight.The message went live, floating in digital space.Van waited, refreshing the page every few minutes, checking other channels where QuantumGhost might appear.Nothing.
After twenty minutes of silence, Van slammed his hand against the desk, sending an empty can clattering to the floor.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he berated himself, rubbing his tired eyes.Of course a known FBI man mentioning Dillard by name would spook his contact.ShadowCipher hadn’t survived this long in the digital underground by engaging with feds who directly named clients.
He stared at the screen, the green text blurring before his exhausted eyes.Somewhere out there, Jilly was in the hands of a psychopath.Riley and Bill were counting on him to deliver something—anything—that might help.And he’d just watched his best lead vanish in an instant of poor judgment.
*
The phone’s harsh ring tore through Riley’s drugged sleep, dragging her from unconsciousness.Her eyes snapped open to darkness, her mind struggling to surface through the thick fog of the sedative.For a single, disorienting moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, why her limbs felt so leaden, or why a call in the in the dead of night filled her with inexplicable dread.Then reality crashed back: Jilly was gone.Leo had her.
Riley reached for her phone, its screen painfully bright in the darkened bedroom.Through blurred vision, she registered an incoming video call—number blocked.Her thumb hovered over the screen for a fraction of a second before she accepted, instinct overriding caution.As the call connected, she became aware of the emptiness beside her.The mattress where Bill should have been sleeping was cold, the sheets undisturbed.
“Bill?”she called out, but her voice fell flat in the silent room.No response.
Her attention snapped back to the phone as the video feed stabilized.Leo Dillard’s face filled the screen, his features cast in sharp relief against darkness behind him.The sight of him sent a jolt of adrenaline through her system, burning away the remnants of pharmaceutical fog.
“Good evening, Riley,” he said, his voice pleasant, as if they were colleagues catching up after hours.“Or should I say good morning?I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Riley sat upright, her back against the headboard, forcing her features into a neutral expression.“Where is she, Leo?Where’s Jilly?”
Leo’s smile widened slightly.“Straight to business.I’ve always admired that about you.”He adjusted the camera angle, revealing more of his face.“Before we get to that, I should mention that this call is untraceable.Your tech friends—what was his name?Mathers?—won’t be able to monitor it or track its origin.I’ve made sure of that.”
Riley fought to keep her voice steady.“What do you want?”
“To talk.To connect.”Leo cocked his head slightly.“Isn’t it ironic that I’m actually not far from where you’re sitting right now?In geographic terms, we’re practically neighbors.But for all the good that knowledge does you, I might as well be on the other side of the continent.”
The implication that he was nearby cold fear through Riley’s body, but she refused to let it show.Instead, she scanned what little she could see behind him—nothing but blackness.Either he was in a completely dark room or, more likely, using a green screen to block out any details that might identify his location.
“Tell me, Riley,” Leo continued, his tone conversational, “do you know where Bill is right now?”
She glanced again at the empty space beside her, at the undisturbed pillow.
“What have you done?”The words came out barely above a whisper.
Leo’s expression remained pleasantly neutral.“Why don’t you check?Go ahead.I’ll wait.”
Riley moved with the speed of desperation, throwing back the covers and rushing from the bedroom, phone still clutched in her hand.“Bill?”she called, louder now, her bare feet silent on the carpeted hallway.“Bill!”
She checked Jilly’s room first—empty—then thundered down the stairs, heart hammering against her ribs.The living room was dark and still.The dining room, the family room and back porch all unoccupied, the kitchen empty of life.