Page 35

Emma

H aving driven like a maniac to get there, I arrived at the location fifteen minutes early. It was a large park surrounded by quaint little shops, the kind of place where families go to stroll around and spend a lazy Sunday together. It feels cruel that the kidnappers should choose such a place. I alternated between sitting on a bench and pacing, biting my nails while looking at every person I saw with suspicious eyes, wondering if they were the monster holding my baby hostage.

Only minutes before the arranged meeting time, my phone buzzed making me jump out of my skin. I contemplated ignoring it, assuming it would be one of the guys, but some sort of intuition made me check.

Good. You came alone. You have 30 mins. The same rules apply. Come alone. If you tell anyone or bring anyone, you’ll never see him again.

As before, this text was followed by a new location pin and the words:

Park in the underground lot and wait for further instructions .

I could have wept with frustration as I realized it was back in the direction I’d just come from and again, I was set a deadline with barely enough time to get there. One traffic jam could mean life or death. The kidnapper was toying with me, it seemed.

I arrive at the new destination with just moments to spare. My blood pressure must be through the roof, and I feel like a tightly coiled spring. This location seems far more ominous than the last. It’s a deserted underground parking lot at an old shopping mall. With no other cars or people in sight, I park up and hesitate, uncertain of what to do. I take out my phone, ignoring the several missed calls and texts from the guys who’ve figured out I’m missing.

When my phone pings, my heart drops as I worry that the kidnapper is going to play the same cruel trick on me again. But, as promised, exactly on time, the message contains instructions.

Go to the third floor. Wait by the fountain.

With trembling legs I get out of the car, I don’t like this at all. The kidnapper hasn’t set any kind of ransom and I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t have followed their orders after all. Perhaps I should have told the guys? If this person wishes me harm as well as Max, I’ve fallen into their trap perfectly. No one will ever know where I am and there’s nowhere safe to run to in this vast, empty place.

I contemplate calling them or sending a text, but I need to keep my phone on me in case the kidnapper sends any more instructions. They’re bound to check to make sure I have contacted anyone, so I can’t risk that either. But then, inspiration strikes. I rush back into the car and turn on the GPS tracking, praying that the guys will think to check it and find me. I don’t know who has access to the app, so it’s a long shot. But it’s the best I’ve got.

I race inside, opting to take the stairwell. There’s no way I’m going to risk my son’s life on a faulty elevator. When I arrive at the fountain—turned off and empty of any water—my lungs feel on fire as I gasp for breath. There’s no one in sight. The empty mall has an eerie apocalyptic feel to it, which is apt because this feels like the end of the world to me.

“Max!” I call out, my voice echoing in the vast empty space.

The sound of ruffling feathers and the flapping wings of birds, startled by the unexpected noise makes me jump until I realize it’s just a flock of pigeons that have gotten in through a broken skylight to make their nest.

My eyes continue to scan the area frantically as I start to panic that Max isn’t here at all, that the person messaging me is just toying with me.

“Please! I did everything you asked! Just give me back my boy!” I cry out, tears streaming down my cheeks as I shout into the emptiness.

The sound of footsteps pulls my attention and emerging from the shadows on the far side of the mall I see a figure. I can’t see their face, but they have the build and walk of a man. My heart jumps into my throat before plummeting back down again when I realize that the person is alone. Max is nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he? Where’s my boy!” I shout at the figure, somewhere between terror and confusion.

“He’s safe, Emma,” a familiar voice replies as the person steps into the light.

My brain struggles to comprehend what I’m seeing as the horrifying truth dawns on me.

This can’t be happening.