Dawn brought a raging thirst and the realization that this wasn’t a bad dream. By now Riley would be freaking since she knew him well enough to realize something was wrong. He also knew she’d be smart: She’d call Donovan and Stewart for help and between them they’d figure out what happened to him. Riley would be okay. If anything, he needed to worry about himself.

  It’d been a rough night, especially since he was the main course for the voracious red bugs that lived in the Spanish moss. Northerners called the things chiggers and they’d found him a great feast. The old swampers would use smoke to kill them, but Beck was a few matches short for that. Soon those bites would start to itch, but it was that or hypothermia.

  When he rolled over his bladder weighed in, so the first order of business was to maneuver the chain around the back side of the tree and take care of that problem. Then he returned to his original position to survey his surroundings.

  In most people’s minds, a swamp was one big watery mud hole. That wasn’t the case with Okefenokee. It offered a variety of terrains, and Donovan had shown him every one—the prairies, hammocks, cypress bays, lakes, and bogs. As swamps went this was a big one, over four hundred thousand acres, opened to the world by a series of man-made canals. It was teeming with wildlife and included remote sections that rarely saw a human.

  This time of year was a mixed blessing as there were fewer tourists floating up and down on the tour boats so Beck’s chances of being discovered were reduced. On the other side of the coin, the colder weather worked in his favor when it came to the gators: They weren’t as active. Or as hungry.

  Plenty of other things that can kill me.

  There’d been no sign of whoever had stolen him away from McGovern, and though it really was tempting to panic he fell back on his survival training. He began by excavating a hole about foot or so deep using a stout branch. Since the swamp was pretty much just floating ground, the hole would fill with water and he’d need something to drink soon enough.

  Once that was done and he’d wiped his muddy hands on his jeans, he began to examine the loops of metal that held him prisoner. The chain was old and rusty and looped through a large ring. The ring itself was corroded and had a half-inch break in it, though not big enough for him to force a link through to gain his freedom. The gap gave him hope. If he could work on that weakness, maybe he could break free. He’d still have the chain attached to his leg, but at least he could travel.

  “I’d kill for my steel pipe,” he muttered.

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was watching him. He swept his eyes over the landscape, looking for the threat and found two red eyes peering at him from around a tree. Demon.

  “Trapper,” the fiend hissed as it stepped out into the open. It was short, about three and a half feet tall, and totally hairless with glitteringly sharp teeth and wicked talons. The locals called them swamp devils and they weren’t like the fiends in the city. Hellspawn were good at adapting to their surroundings.

  It wasn’t a Gastro-Fiend. Those were hairy and didn’t have much of a brain except when it came to food.

  “What kind of fiend are you?” he murmured to himself.

  The creature hunched down in a crouch, observing him. “The kind that always wins,” it said.

  “Yer a Four, a Mezmer.”

  The fact that it spoke decent English told him it was an older Hypno-Fiend, but not as powerful as some he’d met. Still, it had been strong enough to put him to sleep and haul him away like a bag of Halloween candy.

  Instead of sifting through his brain and making him do its will, this one would have to worry on him like a dog on a bone. If he became desperate enough, hungry enough to make a deal, it’d claim his soul. In the meanwhile, Beck was just food tied to a tree for any predator.

  “Ya do not want to tangle with me right now,” he declared.

  The fiend’s strange barking laugh echoed around them, telling Beck how much it considered him a threat.

  “Ya put McGovern up to this?” he demanded. He could think of no other reason for the undertaker’s bizarre behavior.

  “No. I do not know of that mortal.” The demon rested its elbows on its knees, and it appeared as if it had nothing else to occupy it for the remainder of the day. Or the next month, for that matter. It gestured toward the chain. “Your freedom for your soul.”

  “No deal.”

  It scratched behind an ear in thought. “Blackthorne’s Daughter will not come for you.”

  “Of course she will,” Beck retorted. That was a given.

  “No. The Fallen lives and has claimed her as his own. She will do whatever he says. She has no need of you, trapper.”

  “Yer lyin’.” God, I hope ya are.

  “You will die here.”

  “Might happen. Might not. No way I’m going to Hell.”

  The fiend tried on a friendly smile, the effect ruined by its pointed teeth. “Time will tell, Denver Beck,” it said, then slunk off into the bushes.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Riley’s stomach was rumbling by the time she approached the diner. It seemed traitorous to be hungry what with Beck missing, but she knew she had to eat. As she paused to open the door to the restaurant, someone caught her arm, an older woman with bright white hair and twinkling eyes. She wore some strange symbol around her neck.

  “He wants you to find him,” the woman said. She boldly took hold of Riley’s hand and pressed something into the palm. Something cold. “This will help you,” she said, smiling.

  Spooked by the lack of personal space, Riley backed off, staring first at the woman, then at the object in her palm.

  “It’s a . . . rock.” A polished one, but a rock nonetheless.

  “It’s a seeker stone. It’ll help you find him. Just don’t give up. If you do, he’s lost.”

  “Are you one of the wise women?”

  There was a quick nod, and before Riley could ask how a rock was going to be of any use the woman hurried away. Shrugging, she tucked it away in her backpack, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

  The diner was bustling so she had to wait for a couple to leave one of the booths before she had a place to sit. The waitress wasn’t the same from the day before—she was closer to Beck’s age and frowning even before Riley took her seat.

  Probably one of his hookups.

  “What do you want?” the girl asked, clearly in a hurry to be somewhere else.

  “Hot tea, please.” Riley opened the menu and gave it a quick glance. “I’ll have the eggs and bacon special with wheat toast.”

  Her breakfast was good, if she ignored the whispering and the naked stares. This wasn’t fair—she’d figured she’d be anonymous down here, not like in Atlanta after all the demon business. Now she was Denny’s whatever and everyone wanted to check her out. As she was finishing off her tea, wondering how to question the dinosaurs at the old guys’ table, Cole entered the diner and headed straight for her.

  How did he know I was here? It wasn’t like Beck’s truck was parked out front. Without asking if he could join her, he slid into the booth across from her.

  “I hear Denny’s gone,” he said. “Is he back in Atlanta?”

  “Not likely.”

  Cole flagged down the waitress and ordered a cup of coffee. The girl seemed to like him, so she was all smiles. Riley even scored a refill on her tea with minimal hassle.

  “Lots of rumors flying around,” Cole said. “What I’m hearing is that you two were knocking boots, then Denny decided he couldn’t deal and left you behind. Stuck you with burying his mother and paying the funeral bills.”

  Riley rolled her eyes. “Whoever is saying that doesn’t know Beck.” Or me.

  “I doubt he’s changed much. He always was unreliable.”

  Before she could get in his face, Cole’s phone rang and he pulled it from a jacket pocket.

  “Yeah?” A long pause. “Sure, I can do that.” His eyes shifted to Riley and a cunning smile appeared. “I’ll be there in an hour.” The smile grew wider as he ended the call.

  “Why are you here, Cole?”

  “Wanted to help you find Denny.”

  Liar. “Not buying that.”

  “It’s the truth.” He ramped up his bad boy smile and it gave Riley the creeps.

  “Shut it down,” she said. “I know what you did to Beck and his girlfriend, so you have no traction with me.”

  “I see,” he said, momentarily off his game. “Damn. Here I thought I had a shot at you. Looks like I’ll have to work for this. How about if I find Denny for you, then you take me to dinner to celebrate?”

  “Oh, God, listen to you,” a voice said. “Don’t you ever give up?”

  The newcomer was about Riley’s age, dressed in faded jeans, a long forest-green T-shirt, with a heavy navy vest layered over the top. Her blond hair had wide streaks of white and was blunt cut at her chin, a little longer on the right than on the left. A single ruby stud adorned her nose.

  Her brown eyes bored into Cole with naked disgust.

  “Sammie,” Cole said, looking up at her. “Get kicked out of school again?”

  “You’re such a dickhead, Hadley,” the girl replied. Her attention went to Riley. “The name is Samantha, but you can call me Sam. Uncle Donovan said to let you know he’s looking for Beck.”

  Riley sagged in relief. If the sheriff was on the case, then they had a chance.

  “Have a seat,” Cole said, offering a small space next to him.

  “No way. Hit the road, jerk,” Sam replied, angling her thumb toward the exit.

  “No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend,” he replied, grinning. He took down the last of his coffee, dropped some cash on the table to pay for his drink, then rose and delivered a mock bow. As Sam took his place, she flipped him off.

  “Let me know if I can be of any help, Riley,” he said, and then headed for the front door, humming to himself.

  Sam clunked her cell phone on the table. It was one of the expensive smartphones, the kind that wouldn’t survive a week in a trapper’s life. She pushed Cole’s coffee cup out of her way as if it were toxic.

  “He’s such a loser. He even tried to get my mom horizontal the last time she was in town. Can you believe that?”

  “You live here in Sadlersville?” Riley asked, figuring that might be a safer topic.

  A shake of the head. “Tampa.” That explained her deep tan. “I’m . . . here on spring break.”

  In February? Riley let it pass. She put money on the table to cover her meal, plus a tip.

  “You have wheels? I really could stand a ride.” Sam nodded immediately. “I want to talk to one of Beck’s exes. Her name is Louisa . . . Deming. You know her?”

  “No, but I know someone who will.”

  As Sam made a phone call to check with her source, Riley walked up to the long table of retired folks.

  “Hi, guys.” There were a few mumbles in her direction. “Denver Beck went missing last night. You know anything that can help me find him?”

  Looks were traded down the table.

  An older man with a bushy gray mustache squinted up at her. “Saw his truck last night on Main Street. Probably about nine-thirty or so.”

  “Was he driving okay?” A nod. So that meant Beck wasn’t drunk. “Anything else?”

  A table full of head shakes. Riley pulled a napkin over and wrote her cell phone number on it. “Call me if you hear anything.” She looked at each one of them in turn. “Please, I really need to find him.”

  “You might as well go back home, girl. He’s taken off again,” one of them replied. “He always did that. Like that time when he was a kid and he ran away.”

  “I remember that. They had the cops out looking for him,” another man added. There were nods from some of the others.

  It was time to set some of Beck’s record straight. “Oh, you mean the time his mother took him into the swamp and left him there . . . to die?” she asked.

  The mustachioed guy shied back in his seat. “That’s not how I heard it. You sure about that, girl? Not right to say bad things about the dead and all.”

  Riley pushed her phone number closer to him. “But it’s okay to tell lies about the living?”

  She left them muttering to themselves.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Sam’s ride was a maroon sedan with seats that warmed one’s behind. Riley decided if she ever had a lot of money she’d buy herself something like this, though it was doubtful a Three would fit in the trunk.

  “So what year are you? Sophomore or a junior?” Riley asked.

  “Junior,” Sam replied.

  “Like me then.”

  “Is it true that you guys go to school in abandoned buildings?”

  “Yup,” Riley replied. “Mine’s a Starbucks. Before that it was an old grocery store. Who knows where the next place will be?”

  “That’s so bizarre. I go to a regular school. Well, most of the time when I’m not—” She shot Riley a glance. “Okay, Cole was right. I’m on suspension.”

  “What hideous offense did you commit?”

  “I kicked a guy where it counted. He was feeling me up and when I told him to stop, he didn’t. So I nailed him.”

  Riley gave her a thumbs-up. “Works for me.”

  “Yeah, well, I got another lecture about not being combative and how I should have ratted the octopus out to the teacher and had the school deal with it.”

  “Was this his first offense?”

  “No. He’s groped other girls. Each time he gets a lecture from the principal and keeps on doing his grab-ass thing.”

  “How about after you nailed him?”

  Sam shook her head. “Word is he’s dialed it way down.” She turned onto a side street. “Of course, my mom went ballistic. My uncle, not so much. He says I have to learn when it’s best to fight and when it’s best not to.”

  “Your school would not like me,” Riley said. “I’m pretty peaceful, but sometimes I’ve found you just need to kick butt.”

  Sam smiled at that. “So that’s my story, why I’m in the middle of . . . nowhere bored out of my skull. Well, except I still have homework.”

  Riley groaned at that. Her homework was piling up at home. “I’m here to help Beck with his mom.”

  “You two hooking up?”

  “No,” Riley said wistfully. Maybe someday.

  “Don’t worry, my uncle will find him. He likes Beck a lot. Oh, and he said we should trade phone numbers in case you need to get around town.”

  It sounded as if Sam didn’t mind that assignment at all.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Beck’s “okay” ex-girlfriend’s house was well maintained with a sizable flower bed that still had plenty of color, an indication that frost wasn’t a constant visitor in Sadlersville. Unlike Sadie’s place, this looked like a home. Riley pushed the doorbell, then looked back over her shoulder at Sam, who had opted to remain in the car texting a friend at her school. It was cool to have someone Riley’s age to talk with, someone who didn’t think Beck was a waste of time.

  The door opened and she found herself staring at a young woman with a heart-shaped face, pale cheeks, and fine blond hair. Louisa’s pale blue eyes were wide and expressive, adding to the china doll look. Riley guessed her to be at least eight months’ pregnant. That, and the wedding ring, signaled that Beck’s ex had definitely moved on.

  “You’re Riley, aren’t you?” the woman asked. At Riley’s expression of surprise, she added. “Denny told me what you looked like.”

  “Is he here?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him, but I’m glad you came by. He said he wanted me to meet you.”

  Riley was waved inside. The house was toasty warm and smelled of cinnamon and baked apples. Louisa guided her into a small front room where Riley settled in a chair. Her hostess eased herself down on the couch next to a skein of pale pink yarn and a pattern for a baby blanket. The work-in-progress lay nearby.

  “I have to sit here,” Louisa explained, placing a protective hand on her bulging stomach. “If I sit in one of the chairs I can’t get up.”

  “When are you due?”

  “Three more weeks. It’s a little girl.” Then Louisa smiled and held up the crochet work. “As if you couldn’t tell.”

  Riley smiled back. She could see why Beck had really liked this girl. She had no pretense to her.

  “Denny called me the other night,” Louisa added. “He said he was going out for pizza with you. He sounded really tired, but he had it together. Now I’m hearing people think he took off on you.” She shook her head, frowning. “That’s not like him.”

  “Did you call him last night about nine?” Riley asked, hoping to find out who had lured him away from the motel.

  “No. Is it true Denny was going to ask the sheriff to reopen the investigation?”

  “Who told you that?” Riley asked, astounded at how fast news traveled in this town.

  “The cashier at the grocery store. I thought it was a good idea. Now . . . ” Louisa stirred uneasily on the couch. “I never believed he was guilty, you know? What if Denny’s disappearance has something to do with that?”

  So Riley wasn’t the only one thinking in that direction.

  “What do you remember about the weekend Beck and those guys went into the swamp?”

  Louisa’s expression darkened. “Denny and I had an argument a couple days before. He was ducking some things he needed to take care of, and I called him on it. He didn’t like it. When I asked if we were going to do anything for New Year’s, he told me he already had plans and they didn’t include me.”

  “Smooth move, Beck.”

  “You could say that,” Louisa replied. “He wasn’t easy to get along with back then and most of that was his mother’s doing. I had no idea he was out in the swamp with the Keneally brothers until Cole told me.”