After a moment, she felt Ken’s hand on her shoulder squeeze. She hated herself for being comforted by it. Hated herself because she needed this. To feel close to another person. She couldn't help it. She let herself lean onto him, feel the warmth of him, even if this was Ken, of all people. Nicky didn't care. At least she was able to keep it together long enough to not cry.

  "I'm sorry," she said, pulling away, but she couldn't stop the trembling.

  "No," Ken said softly. "Don't apologize. It's okay. Where were you?"

  After this embarrassing display, the least she could do was be honest. "It's... about what happened with my sister. I relive it sometimes. That's all."

  Ken nodded. "I've read your file, Lyons. I know what happened. I'm sorry."

  "It's okay," Nicky said. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

  "No. It's fine. I'm glad you did. I'm glad I was there."

  Nicky's brow furrowed, but she didn't want to ask. Once she did, she'd have to remember she was talking to Ken Walker. She wasn't sure if she could handle that.

  "Can I ask you something?" she said instead.

  "Sure."

  "What are you doing here? I mean, why'd you become a profiler? Why'd you join the FBI?" It was an excuse to know him more, but also to veer the conversation away from herself.

  Her question must have caught him off-guard. He took a moment to choose his answer. Nicky felt a twinge of guilt for prying, but she had to know.

  "I joined the FBI because I want to catch the monsters of the world," he said. "I want to stop them before they kill more people."

  “A noble cause,” Nicky said.

  "It isn't just that, though. I think... I think I want people to remember the victims of these cases,” Ken explained. “I think I want to honor them for who they were, and who they became. I want them to matter. I want people to know that they were real, legitimate people with stories and backgrounds..."

  "But why? What motivates you, personally?"

  Ken hesitated a moment, but then nodded. “I told you before, you’re not the only one with personal interests in cases like this. When I was a teenager, there was this… girl. I’m gonna have to get sappy on you for a moment, but she was the first ‘crush’ I ever had. Yeah, I know it sounds kiddish now, but back then it was everything.”

  Nicky nodded. “I get it. When you’re a teenager, you feel everything. I remember those days.” Her heart sank as she thought about that last night she’d spent with Rosie and all their friends, the night before Rosie went missing.

  “Yeah, well. I ended up convincing this girl to give me a shot, and we started dating. Long story short, it worked out, and we were together until senior year.”

  A lump grew in Nicky’s throat. She had a bad feeling that she knew where this was going.

  “Then prom night happened,” Ken said, “and Tiana—that was her name—was supposed to meet me there. She was running late and didn’t want me to miss out on the limo with our friends.”

  It was hard to picture Ken Walker being a normal teenager once, but Nicky could see it all. It brought her back to her own days in high school, when she’d left everyone she ever knew behind. There were a lot of conflicting emotions. The message from Matt slipped back into her mind, but she swiped it away, listening to Ken’s story.

  “Anyway, hours passed at prom,” Ken said, “and Tiana—she never showed up. I’ll skip all the in-between details and just tell you that no one ever saw her alive again. The police said it seemed likely she was abducted on her way over to prom, as she was walking there.” His face grew serious, and he couldn’t meet Nicky’s eyes. “They found her body two weeks later. The guy who did it was caught within a couple of months. He was just some drifter, saw Tiana in her prom dress and thought she’d be an easy target because she was alone.” He laughed sullenly. “Guess he was right.”

  Nicky's mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “That’s horrible.” But now she understood. She understood why this case had such a hold on Ken.

  Their stories were different, but in the end, their motivations were the same.

  They wanted to save the girls who needed to be saved.

  He was quiet for a long time. “Nothing I can ever do will bring her back. So I just try to save as many people as I can while I'm still here."

  Nicky understood that. At the same time, in her case, Rosie's body had never been found. And so Nicky still held onto that hope that someday, she'd find her.

  Still, Nicky couldn't believe Ken had opened up. She could hardly believe that this was the same cold, distant Agent Walker she'd known at the office. He had a compassionate side.

  She also knew the way things could get intense during the night. Emotions were high. Maybe it was biological. She remembered her fling with Fernando--it had started off as lust. Nicky had needs, and hookup apps always felt too risky for her--too high of a risk of predators. She and Fernando had worked too closely together on a case. Then Fernando caught feelings for Nicky and she couldn't give him what he wanted. In fact, he became more annoying to her than anything else.

  She looked up at Ken to see him still staring at her. She shuffled back, as if to remind him of their position. Ken must have taken the hint, because he awkwardly backed off.

  They were both reminded that they barely knew each other.

  They had each opened up a window to each other, and Nicky knew they'd regret it in the morning.

  "Well... goodnight," Nicky said.

  Ken stood up, wiped his palms on his pants. "Get some sleep, Lyons. You need it."

  Nicky rested her head against the pillow.

  He was right. She did need sleep.

  She needed to be in her right mind to catch the kidnapper. And tomorrow, Nicky wouldn't waste any time.

  Whoever is doing this should be scared, Nicky thought.

  Because she was coming for him. And she would take him down.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  He had given her a bed. A dresser. A vanity with a mirror and a brush so she could do her hair and look pretty for him. He had given her everything a woman could ever ask for.

  The screen illuminated the dark room, giving him a full view of his bride on the other side. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands clenched into fists and her eyes tightly closed. She was crying bitterly, her tears flowing like a waterfall down her face. She was crying for a freedom that he'd taken from her. It was as if he had ripped her heart out and stomped on it, crushing it beneath his feet.

  He hoped once they wed, she would be more grateful for all he'd given her. She could not leave the bedroom--of course not, he knew she would run. He smiled at the screen and leaned closer. He didn't interact with her much when she was awake; their beautiful conversations would be saved for when they were officially married.

  Soon, she would give up on her pacing and crying and go to bed. Then, he would get to smell her, touch her, feel her...

  He watched the screen as she got under the covers and turned off the lamp. He rose from his chair and left his room, making his way down the hallway to hers. In the darkness of the hallway, he could barely make out the line where the carpet ended, and the hardwood floor began. The floor was cool underneath his bare feet. He could hear the sound of her breathing in his mind, slow and steady and deep. It was like a lullaby. He wanted to hear her breaths for real.

  He reached her door. Several locks kept her in, and he unlatched them, one by one.

  Inside, the room was dark. The only window was at the top of the room, and it allowed a silvery beam of moonlight to sneak in and illuminate her sleeping form. She was so beautiful.

  He could see her chest rising and falling. The thin blanket bunched around her waist, exposing the rest of her body.

  His palms began to sweat, and he stepped into the room.

  She exhaled, and he froze in place, watching to see if she would wake up. She didn't. He sat at the edge of her bed. Her long hair tickled his arm as he did so. If she was awake, she was not responding to him. But that was okay.

  "Shh," he whispered, stroking her hair. He felt her stiffen beneath him.

  He smiled and continued to pet her hair. He ran his fingers through it, relishing the softness. He ran his hands over her arms and down them, feeling the thin layer of her nightgown.

  She was so warm.

  His hand moved to her shoulder, and, then, to her chest.

  She continued to breathe, pretending to be unaware of his touch. But he knew she was awake. He knew she could feel him.

  He ran his hands over her flat stomach, then her hip, then her thigh.

  She didn't move.

  He brought his face closer to hers, and he could smell her. It was the most beautiful odor he had ever encountered. Rich and sweet, it made his nose curl up.

  He buried his face in her hair and inhaled more of her essence.

  It only made her smell sweeter, and she smelled incredible. He breathed her in, as he slipped his hand inside the thin fabric of her nightgown.

  She gasped and stiffened, but she stayed put.

  The feel of her skin sent him into a frenzy. His fingers moved over her stomach, down her hip, and under her leg. Her thigh was soft and smooth. His fingers brushed against her hipbone, over her ribs, and up to the part of her where the fabric dipped.

  She whimpered again. This time, he was sure she was awake.

  His hand moved to her neck, and he pushed the blanket away from her shoulders. He moved his hands over her chest, feeling the skin against his fingertips, and he could feel her heart beating against his palm.

  The room was silent, but he felt he could hear her heartbeat. It was so strong, so intoxicating.

  But he stopped himself there. He had to. He couldn't give into temptation, not yet. It was too soon. He had to earn her first. And she had to earn him.

  "Don't worry, my love," he said, letting her go. "Our time will come soon. Just you wait..."

  With that, he got up and left the room, making sure each lock was secured shut on his way out.

  He returned to his own room and sighed, pressing his back to the door.

  He was proud of himself for being so strong. He smiled and continued to watch the screen, a smile on his face as he watched her sleep.

  "I'm so proud of you," he said softly. "So proud."

  He picked up the large red marker off his desk and went to the calendar, marking off another day done, another day closer to their big day. He grinned, feeling warm.

  Only a few more days, and she would be his forever.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nicky pressed her foot on the gas pedal, the engine roaring as the car rapidly gained speed. The road was straight and the pavement was smooth, the tires gripping the asphalt. Beside her in the passenger seat, Ken was silently reviewing Sarah Mills's file.

  They hadn't talked about last night, and Nicky had no intentions of bringing it up. It was awkward as hell. The whole morning, they'd been quietly tiptoeing around each other, but the weight of it all hung in the air. Nicky just wanted to focus on her job, and not think about how she'd lost herself in her panic. She didn’t want to think about how Ken’s hand on her shoulder had made her feel safe, or how in the dead of night, they’d opened their hearts to each other, just a little.

  They were on their way to Sarah Mills's husband's house. Well, according to the file, it was more like a trailer. But it was a bit of a drive out.

  "I still can't believe those idiots," Nicky said to fill the silence. Ken glanced over at her, so she continued. "The negligence of it all. Not properly reporting this case. If it is related to Meghan, it could change everything."

  "I don't expect much more from cops like that," Ken said. "They probably just wanted to close the case and move on."

  "But Sarah Mills was never found," Nicky said. "Why even become a cop if you don't want to save lives?"

  "Maybe they're just in it for the paycheck."

  "And the pension?"

  Ken shrugged.

  "It's a good thing we're here to fix that," Nicky said. "Let's hope she's still alive."

  Ken sighed. "You really think she is?"

  "We'll find out soon enough."

  The car lurched and bounced over the terrain as Nicky drove, following the GPS's directions. The dirt road was rough, poorly maintained. The car's tires crunched over the gravel as it made its way through the forest. The trees were tall and green, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves and dappled the road with a warm glow.

  When it said to turn left, Nicky slowed the car down and looked both ways. The road was bumpy and narrow, and she could see the trees on both sides of it. A canopy of branches blocked out the sun, turning the air gray and cold.

  "This is the address?" Ken asked skeptically.

  "That's what it says..."

  Beneath the wheels of the car, Nicky could feel the ground getting mushier and wetter. It was like they were driving right into a swamp.

  "You sure we're on the right road, Lyons?" Ken asked.

  Nicky was focused on trying to keep the steering wheel straight, but she felt herself losing control. "Yes, Walker, this is the right road," she said, irritated.

  The trees crowded closer, their branches snaking across the road until Nicky couldn't see anything but leaves on either side.

  Okay, maybe they were a bit off track. The GPS on the car's screen said they were on the right road, but Nicky was beginning to feel more nervous by the moment. She didn't like the idea of admitting Ken's hesitance had been right. But at the same time, she didn't want to get stuck in the swamplands.

  "I think we should turn around," Nicky said, although she was still driving forward.

  But it was too late--the car was already slowing down.

  "What's going on, Lyons?" Ken asked.

  A surge of panic hit Nicky's chest. She couldn't control the car. "I don't know!"

  The car stopped with a jolt, and Nicky slammed her foot on the gas, but it was useless. The tires just spun in the mud.

  "Shit," Ken said. Sweat creased his brow. "Okay. You keep trying to go forward. I'll go push and see if I can get us out."

  The window looked out on a murky swamp below. The water was dark, and the trees were so close that their branches brushed against the glass. All around them, the swamp was filled with tall reeds and murky water. Nicky could see the mud and the muck on the bottom of the swamp. So much for the "road."

  "Walker, you're going to get dirty as hell."

  "What other choice do I have?" Ken said.

  He got out of the car and went to the back of it. Nicky kept spinning the wheels. Through the rear-view mirror, Nicky saw Ken try to push the car, but the tires just kept spinning in place, sending mud flinging in all directions.

  Nicky sighed, pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. This was just her luck.

  But Ken wasn't giving up. She felt the car jolt. Ken shoved harder.

  And all at once, the car lurched forward.

  Nicky's head snapped up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

  Ken had stopped pushing and was now leaning back against the car's trunk. He was hunched over, his arms resting on his knees, his breathing ragged. His shirt was already covered in mud. He was so close. She could see the sweat on his forehead, the lines of strain around his eyes, and the way his chest heaved with each breath.

  "What happened?" Nicky asked.

  Ken shook his head. "I dunno, I pushed and the car just started moving forward." He wiped his brow. "You should be able to drive us out of here now."

  "Just as long as we're not going backwards," Nicky said. "Guess we've gotta find another way out."

  She put her foot on the gas and let the car roll forward. Through the rear-view mirror, she watched as the trees pressed against her car, the branches scraping at her windows.

  As far as nightmares went, this was up there for Nicky. The deeper they got into the brush, the more trapped she felt.

  It reminded her too much of that night, all those years ago, with Rosie, as the man had driven them to the lake house. Nicky stuffed the memory down. She couldn't afford a panic attack, not now.

  After what felt like an eternity of driving, the swampy road cleared onto a more open dirt road. The air was thick with wet soil and mud, like a bog. Scents of decay and rot coated the air. Nicky saw that if they went right, it would take them down another road that could lead back to the highway. Left, and they'd hit Sarah Mills's trailer within minutes.

  Nicky looked at Ken, who was glancing around the forest. "I wanna get out of here too," Nicky said, "but we might as well finish this."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah, let's go talk to her husband."

  Ken nodded, but his expression was grim. Nicky had a bad feeling too. But their job wasn't to run when things got hard. It was to keep pushing forward until justice was served.

  They were both silent as they drove down the road. Nicky was grateful, because she was tired of trying to talk through the tension.

  They reached a fork in the road, and Nicky turned left. The GPS said she had one more turn to make, and then they'd be at the address.

  "You see that?" Ken said, pointing out the windshield.

  Nicky slowed the car down, trying to see what Ken was pointing at. Then she saw.

  The old trailer sat perched on a small knoll, its walls tattered and stained. The roof was missing large chunks where a tree branch had smashed through it. The branches and leaves had tangled up in the broken window panes, obscuring the view inside. The surrounding trees created a natural canopy, shielding the trailer from the sun and the rain. The scent of rain and earth and wood was strong in the air.

  Nicky drove the car up to the front door, which was hanging off its hinges.

  She parked the car, and they both got out.

  "Looks like nobody's been here for a while," Ken said.

  Nicky sidled up to him. "Then let's be quiet, okay? The file said the husband still lives here."