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She got out of the car and was hit by the suffocating heat.

Her sweaty uniform had dried in the air conditioning.

The stiff collar chafed her neck. Virgil wasn’t doing much better.

He winced as he lifted the handkerchief on his arm to look at the deep scratches.

He was supposed to have the night off, but he looked far from rested.

Virgil had told her in January that he was planning on coasting into retirement at the end of the year.

The two bikes at the park had put an end to his peaceful dream.

His lined face had an ashen look. His brow was even more furrowed than usual.

Emmy looked up the driveway to the Bakers’ house.

The garage door was open. A dark-colored Jetta was parked on one side. The other side was empty.

“Cut my arm on a damn wild rose bush trying to look through the kitchen window.” Virgil’s tone was somber as he glanced back toward the house.

“Family’s not home, but I reached Felix Baker on his cell phone.

I told him what’s going on. They haven’t heard from Cheyenne since they left the house around three.

Thought she was at the park with Madison. They should be here any minute.”

Emmy felt the weight of his words. She had been so focused on Madison that she’d treated Cheyenne almost as an afterthought. The Bakers had to be terrified. She couldn’t imagine what that drive home must feel like.

Her father knew. As did her mother. Twice in their lives, they had gotten a phone call telling them that one of their children was dead.

First Henry. Then later, Martha. Both lost in terrible accidents.

Emmy had no idea how they had managed to carry on.

She couldn’t breathe if she let herself think even for a second about losing Cole.

“Okay,” Gerald said. “What do we know?”

Emmy was glad for the question, because it gave her facts to concentrate on.

“Eighty-five minutes elapsed between the last time I saw Madison and when Hugo ran over her bike. Cheyenne’s bike was found secluded in the trees along with Madison’s crushed iPhone and a significant amount of blood.

Tire tracks indicate the vehicle used to take away both girls is a sedan. ”

Virgil supplied, “Cheyenne Baker was last seen at the family home around three this afternoon when her father, Felix; mother, Ruth; and ten-year-old sister, Pamela, departed in their blue Honda Odyssey minivan to watch the show at the Flint River basin. Cheyenne was supposed to ride her bike to the park and watch the fireworks with Madison, then return home directly after. No one reported seeing Cheyenne at the park. She has a cell phone, but she’s not answering.

Her parents don’t have it tracked. They expected her to be home when they got here. ”

Gerald asked, “What do we think we know?”

Emmy went first again. “After I saw Madison, she must have gotten her bike. She would’ve pushed it up the stairs to the parking lot.

Maybe she was going to cut across the field to get to Long Street.

I think she went looking for Cheyenne. She was agitated when I saw her.

I think Cheyenne was supposed to meet her at a set time, but she was late. ”

“What time?” Gerald asked.

Emmy plotted the route in her head. “On the backroads, it would take Cheyenne twenty minutes, tops, to bike from here to the park. That would put her at a three thirty arrival. When I saw Madison around eight thirty, she seemed worried, but she wasn’t panicked like you’d expect if Cheyenne was running five hours late. ”

Virgil suggested, “Could be Cheyenne wanted to spend the afternoon alone, then meet up with Madison right before the show to watch the fireworks.”

“That’s not how girls work,” Emmy said. “The point of being at the park wasn’t to see the fireworks. It was to hang out together. Plus, today is Madison’s birthday. Cheyenne wouldn’t roll up at the last minute. Especially if she had a curfew.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Virgil only had sons. “Is there a calculation Madison makes when she realizes Cheyenne is late? Like you said, it’s only a twenty-minute bike ride. At what point would Madison jump on her bike and come check the house?”

“I think no more than an hour,” Emmy said. “Madison would’ve been texting her, calling her cell, calling the house.”

Virgil said, “I’ve got warrants in the works for phone records. Both girls. Both house landlines.”

“There’s something else.” Emmy took out her spiral notebook.

She made a rough sketch of the soccer pitch, plotting the locations where they’d found the bikes, then marking the broken caution tape.

She used dashes to trace the sedan’s route.

“The tire tracks take us here, to Cheyenne’s bike.

Madison’s bike was way over here, maybe a hundred yards away and out in the open.

We know from the tire tracks that the sedan was nowhere near Madison’s bike. ”

Virgil said, “Okay, so Cheyenne showed up late, and she and Madison were together with their bikes near the cluster of trees. The kidnapper rolls up in his sedan. Gets out. Maybe they talk. He grabs Cheyenne, conks her on the head. She’s out cold, bleeds onto the ground.

Madison drops her phone, jumps onto her bike, pedals across the field.

He’s on foot. He runs, snatches her up, too.

Leaves the bike. Puts both girls in the sedan. Drives away.”

Emmy had seen the blood. “I think one of them was shot.”

Gerald nodded. “Agreed.”

Emmy felt bile rush into her mouth. She nearly gagged as she tried to swallow it down.

Virgil asked, “Who’s our bad guy? Family? Acquaintance? Stranger?”

“Stranger,” Gerald said. “Emmy is Hannah’s best friend.”

She had to swallow again. Her father didn’t need statistics.

He only needed a pair of eyes. Emmy’s cruiser was routinely parked in front of Hannah’s house.

She was generally in uniform when they went for a drink after work.

Emmy was also the sheriff’s daughter. Everyone in town knew the connection.

Everyone in Madison’s circle would know about it, too.

Even the most craven offender wouldn’t be reckless enough to target Hannah’s girl.

It had to be a stranger.

Gerald said, “Madison’s bike was left out in the open. Cheyenne’s bike was tossed under the trees.”

“He panicked,” Virgil said. “It’s pitch dark. He figured if one bike was found, no one would search for the other one. We’d focus on one girl instead of both. Probably starting with the parents and working out from there.”

“Needed us to waste time,” Gerald said. “Wanted to get away.”

Emmy took a quick breath, trying to dive back in. “From a logistical standpoint, it’s incredibly risky to go after two fifteen-year-old girls at the same time. They’re too unpredictable. The likelihood that one or both would fight back is too high.”

“He took Cheyenne first,” Gerald said.

“He must’ve talked to her,” Emmy said. “Maybe he drove up to her on the street. She was on her bike. He showed her the gun, told her to get into the car. She started bargaining with him, trying to talk him out of abducting her. Like, ‘my friend is waiting for me. If I don’t show up, she’ll come looking.

She knows where I am. Her stepmother’s best friend is a cop.

’ Then the kidnapper decides to use Cheyenne as bait to draw out Madison. ”

“We’ll know from their cell phone records if she called or texted Madison,” Virgil said. “Maybe the kidnapper had some kind of sick fantasy he’s always wanted to act out. Two girls at once.”

Emmy looked down at the ground so that they couldn’t see her expression.

Gerald said, “GBI said call the FBI.”

Emmy knew her father wasn’t big on federal involvement. They tended to break more things than they fixed. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t know.”

They all turned when a set of headlights swung onto the street. Emmy checked her watch. They had hit the three-hour mark. The chances of the girls still being alive had dropped to twenty-two percent.

Virgil stepped into the driveway as a blue minivan raced toward them. Ruth Baker jumped out of the vehicle before her husband had time to stop. Her face was red, eyes swollen from crying. She was frazzled, scared, panicked. “Have you found her? Where is she? Tell me what happened.”

“Ma’am,” Gerald said. “We haven’t found her. I need to ask you some questions.”

“What questions?” She grabbed onto his arm. “You should be talking to Hannah and Paul. We told them Madison was a bad influence. Whatever mess Cheyenne has gotten into is that little bitch’s fault.”

Emmy tried to keep her composure. The woman was distraught, grasping at straws. It still hadn’t hit her that the small things didn’t matter anymore. The kidnapper didn’t care.

“Ma’am,” Gerald said. “The girls were taken by force. We found a significant amount of blood at the scene. The situation is dire.”

Ruth’s mouth opened, but she said nothing. She was too stunned to even blink.

“Sheriff.” Felix Baker held onto his youngest daughter’s hand. Pamela looked as wide-eyed and shocked as her mother. “What can we do?”

Gerald said, “Tell me about your afternoon.”

“Yes, of course.” Felix took a deep breath. Emmy recognized the coping mechanism. He was trying to be calm and clear. “I had some work to do, but I came home to help pack the van for the picnic. We left for the river basin around three. I told Cheyenne to come home directly after the fireworks.”

“That was the last time you saw or heard from her?”

“Yes.” Felix’s lip trembled when he looked at his wife. “Both of us, that was the last time.”

“She didn’t go with you to the Flint?”

“She wanted to be with Madison.” Ruth’s voice was strained. “She begged me. I should’ve said no, but …”

Gerald kept his attention on Felix. “You drove straight to the Flint River basin?”