Nicky shook her head. No, this wasn’t right. It wasn’t happening. She'd come all this way. She'd found the guy, and she was not going to let Masie die.

  She dropped to her knees and laid a hand on the dead girl's chest. What she didn't notice was the dark, slick substance on her hand until her fingers began to tingle.

  Nicky pulled her hand away and saw the blood.

  It was still warm to the touch.

  The kill had been fresh. He must’ve done it moments before she’d arrived.

  Maybe he even saw her coming up to the building and decided to finish Masie off, right then and there.

  Her world crumbled around her.

  Masie was dead.

  Nicky was too late.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nicky entered her dark, quiet apartment, and threw her keys on the console table, not wanting to face what was waiting for her there.

  Loneliness. Emptiness.

  She would be left with her thoughts, and the memories of what happened. She felt like she'd been hit by a train.

  And the only thing that would cure it, or at least numb it, was a stiff glass of whiskey.

  She headed straight for the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of Jack Daniel's, pouring herself a generous glass. Nicky's apartment was dark, save for a lone lamp which cast a dim orange glow through the living room. The light was soft and warm, flickering off the walls.

  She'd been living here for the past two years, and she was still surprised each time she stepped into the apartment. The walls were painted a warm honey tone, and the furniture was a step-up from the old discount furniture she'd had in her early twenties. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase was filled with textbooks. But her favorite part was the huge window that looked out to the skyline of Jacksonville, Florida. Nicky took a sip and looked out over the city.

  An image of Frank Reese’s deranged, snake-like face flashed in her mind.

  She wished she could've stopped him, but she'd been too late. But only by a hair. If Nicky had arrived earlier, maybe Masie would still be alive. All the possibilities of things she could have done differently swam through her mind. She could have been faster. She could have been sneakier.

  The only thing she was thankful for was that this guy would never hurt anyone again. He was dead. Nicky would be lying if she said he didn’t deserve it.

  She put the glass to her lips and took a deep breath, feeling the alcohol burn her throat. She’d called in the crime scene and the dead body, and she was damn glad to be out of there. And now, there was nothing she could do anymore. She could never get back what this sicko had taken from the world. A year-long investigation had been nothing but a waste.

  Masie would never be back.

  Nicky gulped down the rest of the glass. Where the hell was her happy place now?

  Twisting the cap off the bottle, she poured another shot and settled on the leather couch, staring at the off TV, but not seeing it--her mind was too busy processing. The booze only burned the pain away; it didn't stop it. She put her glass on the coaster of her glass coffee table.

  Nicky's gaze fell onto her cell phone.

  She'd left it on silent after she'd called in the murder. Then it was hours spent debriefing at HQ. Now, finally, she was home. But she still felt trapped in that cottage.

  Her psychiatrist, Dr. Graham, had told Nicky it was unhealthy to bottle up her emotions; she needed to let them out sometimes. What he really felt like she needed were more friends, more people Nicky could talk to outside of work, but the truth was that Nicky liked to keep her personal life private. It was just easier this way. She socialized with the people she worked with, even went out for drinks with them sometimes, and that was good enough.

  Wanting a distraction, she opened her cell and checked her notifications. A text from her mom. A couple of emails.

  And one message request on her messenger app. She frowned and opened it up.

  It was Matt Haynes.

  Nicky hadn't heard from Matt in ages. They grew up in the same small West Virginia town. Thinking about it brought Nicky back to her teen years. The summer heat, watching the sunset as she drank with her friends--Matt included.

  They’d all had dreams of escaping.

  Nicky dreamed of being an FBI agent. Matt's dream was a little more simple--he wanted to leave home. He wanted to see the world. Nicky wanted to see the world too... but she thought she'd be seeing it while doing her job, not while backpacking across the globe.

  That was one thing about Matt--he was always a little over-the-top, but he was never dull. He managed to get into trouble more than anyone Nicky knew, but he was always charming enough to get out of it.

  She thought about what Matt had said when she'd last seen him, all those years ago, when they were both eighteen, at high school graduation.

  He'd kissed her on the cheek and told her goodbye, but that he'd see her again someday.

  Damn, she'd missed him. But she hadn't forgotten him.

  Nicky opened the message.

  Hey, Nicky. When you've got a moment, can we talk? I'm in your area and I'd love to catch up.

  Nicky hesitated.

  Of course part of her had missed Matt. Missed her old life and the people she used to know.

  But her life was unrecognizable now. Now, she hunted kidnappers for a living. Saved girls' lives. Or tried to, anyway. What would she and Matt have to talk about?

  Besides, Nicky wasn't in the business of adding more people to her life. It was too complicated. Too much work.

  She wrote back: Sorry, I'm pretty busy with work right now. Great to hear from you, though.

  After she sent the message, Nicky still felt uneasy. She'd always had a soft spot for Matt--and even if she didn't want to admit it, she knew the reason why.

  It was the one thing she couldn't escape: she was lonely.

  For the past few months, she'd had a fling with another member of the team--a hotshot profiler name Fernando Torres. But it had been more of a physical thing, and that was fine by Nicky. They'd each gotten what they wanted out of it, and it hadn't cost anything, other than the occasional night together--and even then, that was more of a convenience than anything else.

  Her old friends were busy living their lives. And Nicky didn't have time for a real relationship.

  Matt texted back immediately.

  Okay. But I'm staying in town for a few weeks. I'd love to see you.

  Nicky shut off her phone. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't a liar. She'd made up her mind. She wasn't going to see Matt. So that was that.

  Sighing, Nicky took another swig of her drink and stood up. She was beginning to feel numb. She wandered through her apartment, still holding the drink, with one destination in mind.

  Nicky rented a two-bedroom apartment, but the second bedroom wasn't for her.

  It was for Rosie.

  Nicky entered the room, where she had a massive whiteboard set up.

  Clippings of newspapers. Articles. Pictures of her sister.

  Everything Nicky knew about Rosie Lyons's kidnapping was in this room. Not only on the whiteboard--but also in Nicky's own memory.

  She shut her eyes and pictured the lake. The rippling water...

  Maybe it was messed up that she still thought about the lake at that horrible, wretched place as a means to keep her anxiety at bay. The worst days of Nicky's life had happened at that lake house.

  But looking out at that water had also been the last time she'd been with Rosie.

  In that sense, the nightmare that was the lake house was also a dream.

  But Nicky still held onto hope. It had been thirteen years since Rosie was last seen. They never found a body.

  She took out her phone and dialed the number of the local police department in Nelly, West Virginia, her hometown. A long way from Florida, where she lived now.

  A familiar, gruff female voice sounded on the other end. "Hello?"

  Nicky paused. Her voice was thick in her throat. She'd called so many times; the operator, Martha, would recognize her voice. "Hi there, I was calling to ask if any information had come up in a case--"

  "It’s you again," Martha said. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but there's still nothing new. The case has been cold for years, darling… you know that.”

  Nicky closed her eyes. This was a call she made every week. She'd called ever since she left her hometown and went into the FBI academy. At this point, it was more of a compulsion than anything. Dr. Graham had mentioned something about that once. He suggested that Nicky making the calls was her way of latching onto hope, because she—and the FBI—had already exhausted every possible lead as to what had happened to Rosie Lyons. The case was colder than the Appalachian Mountains. But Nicky just… needed to call.

  "Okay, well... thanks." She hung up.

  She headed back into the living room, where she kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch with her cell phone.

  Another dead end, as always. But at least it helped keep Rosie's memory alive.

  Just as Nicky was about to get up and pour another drink, her phone buzzed. She frowned at the name on the screen. It was late for her boss, Eric Franco, to be calling her, but she picked up.

  "Chief, what's going on?" Nicky asked.

  "Lyons, you holding up okay?"

  Nicky paused. Of course she wasn't. Senator Gregory's daughter was dead, and Nicky had done nothing to stop it. Hell, maybe she even caused it if Frank saw her come up to the cabin. Nicky would never know, because the only two people who truly knew what went on in that cabin were dead.

  A thought slithered into Nicky’s mind. Maybe I should just quit. I couldn’t save Masie. Maybe I’m not cut out for this anymore…

  "Fine, Chief," she said. “I’m disappointed. But moving on.”

  "Good. Get some sleep and come in early tomorrow." He paused. "We need to have an important meeting. It’s about the case.”

  Dread filled Nicky's gut.

  “What about it?”

  There was a long pause on the other end that made Nicky’s palms grow sweaty.

  “Just make sure you’re in,” Chief said. “And get some sleep.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Anxiety grew in Nicky's chest as she stepped into the elevator at work, squinting against the morning light before the doors closed. In only a few short minutes, she'd find out what the chief meant by "important meeting." She didn't feel overly optimistic, and she hadn’t been able to shake the thought growing in her head like a malignant tumor. The thought that she’d lost her competency as an agent.

  Nicky looked at herself in the mirror of the elevator. She looked pale. The light from the door reflected off Nicky's skin. She could see the highlights in her long dark hair and the gaunt look of her brown eyes. Wearing a black, fitted shirt and black slacks, she looked like she'd been stabbed in the heart and died a number of times through the night.

  In reality, she just hadn't slept.

  There were several reasons why, but the two biggest were Rosie and the senator's daughter.

  She was sure that Masie had suffered before she'd been killed. It was a brutal death. Nicky hadn't been able to shake the images of her lifeless body from her mind.

  She wondered how much Rosie had suffered. If Nicky were to believe the police and the media, then she'd know that her sister was dead. But the thing was, Nicky didn't believe them. She didn't want to.

  When she entered the office, the room was already buzzing with activity. The thuds of the copier, the ringing of the phone, the soft hum of the air conditioning, the sharp click of a stapler, the sound of a pencil sliding across a desk top, the sound of a ballpoint pen rasping the paper, the clinking of silver serving trays on a desk.

  Fernando Torres came up to her, his cheeks slightly red, probably from a hangover. "Hey, Nicky, did you hear about the chief's guest?"

  "Enlighten me," Nicky said coldly. Ever since their fling ended, Nicky hadn't been thrilled about Fernando's presence in the office. He didn’t exactly handle her ending the fling like a champ.

  Fernando raised an eyebrow. "Uh... maybe you should just head into the meeting."

  Nicky nodded and pushed open the door to a conference room. Fernando was a persistent snoop, so he'd surely been eavesdropping all morning. Nicky couldn’t believe she’d ever slept with that guy.

  Chief Eric Franco was already sitting at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in his hands. He was in his late fifties, but he was fit, with a shock of thick white hair. He was the head of the BAU unit in Jacksonville and he knew more than anyone in the room.

  He caught Nicky's eye and nodded to an empty chair next to him. Early morning sun poured through the windows of the room, and outside, the palm trees and apartment buildings of Jacksonville spread as far as the eye could see. It was a hot, arid day.

  Nicky sat down and immediately recognized the other faces at the table.

  One was that of Ken Walker, another profiler in the office who’d just been transferred there about a week ago. Ken was in his mid-thirties and was considered the most handsome guy in the office, but he was also stern, distant, and cold. Nicky hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with him yet.

  Sitting next to him was Kate Pribbenow, one of the FBI's top prosecutors. She was in her forties and had a hell of a career.

  Nicky was the youngest one there, only twenty-nine, but she'd worked hard to build up a good reputation at the BAU. Her methods could sometimes bend the rules a little, but she got results.

  But there was someone else at the table too.

  A beautiful woman in her fifties with ebony skin and matching dark eyes.

  This was Senator Amara Gregory.

  The senator whose daughter Nicky hadn't been able to save.

  Nicky's stomach bottomed out. What was she doing here? She could see the resemblance between Amara and Masie, and it made her insides twist.

  "I'm glad you could join us, Agent Lyons," the chief said.

  Amara didn’t meet Nicky's eyes.

  "I'm glad to be here," Nicky said, although she felt uneasy. "What's going on?"

  Chief Franco glanced around the room. "First, I want to say that I appreciate each of your being here on such short notice. I know you're all busy, and this is an unusual move to call all of you in at once."

  He sounded nervous, which wasn't like Franco at all. Nicky had no idea what was going on here--but she had a bad feeling about it. It was very rare that they'd call their two top profilers into their office, and seeing Kate, the prosecutor, was like seeing some sort of rare species. She was exceptionally busy most of the time but had slotted away time for this meeting. That must mean it was important.

  "You're all aware of what happened to Senator Gregory's daughter, Masie," Chief Franco said.

  He glanced at Amara, who was sitting at the table with a grim, but stoic expression.

  "Agent Lyons here was able to apprehend the killer, but unfortunately, Masie was already lost." A pause. Nicky looked down at the table, clenching her fists, trying to keep it together. "But she's not the only victim."

  Nicky's stomach plummeted. She had to say something to Amara--she had to tell her how sorry she was, but Nicky couldn't find her voice.

  Chief Franco said, "Officially, Masie Gregory’s case had been labeled as cold, but we didn’t give up, and we found the truth. That’s all thanks to you, Agent Lyons.”

  Nicky didn’t reply. She knew she didn’t deserve any sort of praise. She’d solved the case, sure, but she hadn’t been able to save the victim, so none of it truly mattered.

  Chief Franco looked at Amara. "Senator Gregory, perhaps you'd like to take it from here."

  Nicky forced herself to glance at the senator. Amara's dark eyes were like a laser, focused on Nicky. But then she paced across the room, keeping herself elegant and poised.

  “My daughter is not the only girl to have gone missing in this county, and for her case to be labeled cold,” Amara said. “We’ve conjured up a list of ten missing women who have either been declared cold cases or are on their way to becoming declared cold. The women who have gone missing are Meghan Salinger, Amanda Smith, Megan Osterlin, Clara Jones, Paris Connor, Linda Phillips, Delilah Roberts, Brianna Wilcox, and the last two are sisters: London and Paris Knight.”

  There was a short silence in the room as the team took this in. Nicky didn’t know what to make of this—but she had a feeling where it was going.

  "That's... a long list," Ken said.

  "They all went missing within the last three years," Amara said. “Like my daughter was missing."

  The senator walked over to the whiteboard at the front of the room. She picked up a marker and started writing.

  She faced the room. "The work isn't over. There are still so many missing girls," Amara said, her voice grave and sad. “Based on recent intelligence we’ve gathered, we think there could be hope that some of these women are alive.”

  Nicky's mouth went dry. We're back on this.

  "I’ll keep this simple and get to the point. I want you to form a new task force," Amara said, her voice low and serious. "I want you to go over these cases and try to find clues. Anything that will help us find out what happened to these women."

  Nicky's heart hammered in her chest. After all her doubts yesterday—the doubts that still lingered in her mind—she was being given a task far greater than even the Masie Gregory case.

  "This is a special mission that I'm organizing with Mr. Franco here," Amara said. "The first woman we are looking into is Meghan Salinger, as we think she's the most likely to be alive--although if our intelligence is correct, she may not have much time left." Amara's eyes hardened on Nicky. "And Agent Lyons, I want you to lead it. I read about your past... and I think you're the perfect person for this job."

  Nicky couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd never been put in charge of an entire mission like this before. And it was so close. So personal.

  She thought of Masie's dead body in her arms. She thought of Rosie, still lost out there after all these years.