Shoving a copy of the Eureka Gazette in my hand, he positions it under my chin. Lifting his phone, he snaps a photo and turns like he’s about to leave.

  “What do you want from me?” My voice is a panicked cry.

  “Nothing.” He’s back on the stairs, walking down quickly.

  I don’t understand, but it might be my last chance. “I need to use the restroom!”

  The top of his head is all I can see when he stops, and he lifts his eyes to mine, studying my expression. I imagine I look pretty wild, but I hold steady. Turning, he walks up the stairs again, crossing the room to where I’m standing.

  His hand shoots out, and he grips my chin so hard, I yelp. “At this time you have value to me. But if you become a problem, I will get rid of you. Understand?”

  I don’t understand at all, but I nod quickly. He releases my face and turns away again. “Follow me.”

  Hesitating, I watch him start down the stairs again. He’s near the bottom when he stops. “Last chance.”

  Moving quickly, I go to the stairs and follow him to the door. When we’re on the other side, he grips my arm, guiding me along a wood-paneled, wood-floored hall lined with pictures of people I don’t know to a small bathroom.

  He pushes me inside and pulls the door shut. “You’ve got five minutes.”

  Looking all around, my shoulders drop. No windows, no indication of where I am. It’s a simple half bath with a bar of soap and a towel beside a small sink. My face is pale and dirt is on my cheek when I look in the mirror, so I take a minute to splash water on my face and scrub it away.

  I take the full five minutes to use the restroom, clean up as much as possible, and try to calm my nerves. I’m a pawn, but I don’t know the game we’re playing.

  “Time’s up.” A loud banging on the door makes me jump, and I reach out to turn the knob with trembling hands.

  The door shoves inward quickly, and he grips my upper arm again, dragging me into the hall and in the direction of the stairs to the balcony again. He doesn’t speak, and I decide to take a chance.

  “Stan?” I sound so small, and he doesn’t flinch. “Are you Stan Roswell?”

  We’re at the door, and he pulls it open, shoving me inside. Our eyes meet at the last minute, and the black evil holding my gaze freezes my bones.

  “The one and only.” He slams the door shut, turning the key in the lock.

  “Wake up and eat.” The sharp voice jerks me awake, and I scramble across the twin bed, pressing my back to the wall.

  A plate of fried eggs and toast sits on the bedside table, and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours, and I’m desperately hungry.

  Stan’s back is to me, and he looks out the glass balcony door at the ocean.

  My voice is so dry I can barely speak. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

  He exhales a huff, turning to me. “I still need you.”

  It’s not very reassuring, but I reach for the glass of water beside the food and take a sip. My stomach turns painfully, and I lift a triangle of toast, carefully nibbling the corner. If this is my last meal, I want answers.

  “Why did you kill Gary?”

  Stan’s lips purse, and he considers my question before answering. “I caught him communicating with your mother.” His black eyes are on mine again. “He betrayed me, so he had to be killed.”

  His easy confession scares me. He doesn’t care if I know the truth, which means he doesn’t expect me to survive this imprisonment. It shakes my confidence so hard, I almost drop the plate.

  Roaring is in my ears, and I struggle to calm my survival instinct, my need to run or scream. I have to think like a scientist. I have to summon my training and force my brain to think through what I know, to remember what I’ve learned about these types of situations.

  Breathing slowly, I tell myself to be calm. Think, Britt…

  I can’t escape this room. The door is bolted below. I’m too high for anyone to hear me if I scream, I don’t have my phone, and I didn’t see a way to climb down.

  He could leave me here to die, and no one would ever find me. Only, reflecting on his actions up to now, that isn’t his style. Stan Roswell is a showman, and when he’s ready to kill me, he’ll turn it into a production, the same way he did with Gary.

  My only hope is to buy time. I don’t know if he sees me as a human. I don’t know if it would matter if he did. If my mother can be believed, this man has pursued his vendetta against my father for decades.

  “Why did you terrorize the town and frame Gary for it?”

  His eyes are on the ocean again, and he answers absently. “To create a distraction.”

  “You broke into my mother’s house. What were you trying to find?”

  “Her.” He turns, looking down at me. “When someone steals your life’s work, knows every trick you’ve ever done down to the last detail, they keep a record. The proof is in her possession, but Gwen is very clever. She’s hidden it too well.”

  Realization flickers to life in my chest with every word he speaks. Like the sun breaking across the ocean at dawn, the truth flashes in my brain. I thought she was obsessed, but all along it was him.

  Stan Roswell murdered my dad, and he’s been hiding ever since.

  “Or it doesn’t exist because he never stole from you.” My voice is calm, my fear slowly being replaced by the need for justice.

  Stepping forward, he rips the plate from my hand. “Don’t test me. I’m happy to let you starve.”

  He strides to the stairs, taking the plate as he descends quickly, slamming the door and locking it behind him. Gazing at the piece of toast in my hand, everything shifts. I have to make it out of this. I have to survive to tell what he did.

  This time it really is for my dad.

  CHAPTER 29

  AIDEN

  “This just came through on my email.” Gwen charges into the courthouse, where we’ve assembled a full investigative team.

  Edna is combing her network of magician friends to see if anyone has any information on Stan Roswell, the state troopers are combing the area for all vehicles on the distillery road the night Britt went missing, and the Beaufort deputies are combing their criminal database for information on Gary Blue that might lead to our suspect.

  I’m on my feet, meeting Britt’s mother halfway and taking the computer printout from her hands. When I turn it over, it’s a punch to the gut. Britt’s face is in black and white, and she’s holding a copy of the Eureka Gazette dated today.

  “When did you get this?” My voice is hoarse.

  “It was sent an hour ago from a Gmail address I don’t recognize. I suspect it’s a fake account.”

  “Still, we can track it down using the IP address. I don’t have the equipment for it, but the guys in Beaufort do. Will you allow them access to your computer?”

  She lifts a black messenger bag, sliding out a Power Book. “Can they find it using my laptop?”

  “Maybe.” I’m already texting them as she speaks. “I don’t know.”

  “I have more.” She powers up the computer and logs into her account, pulling up the message and turning the device so I can read it.

  You will stop your pursuit of your husband’s killer. You will go live on social media and confess Lars stole my act, and ultimately he got what he deserved. No one can perform my feats but me, the Great Stantini. You will give me the evidence you have of him studying my routines, the details, the mannerisms, the words, the costumes…

  “He’s insane.” I muse as I read.

  “He’s a murderer.” Gwen’s voice is ice. “He’s not getting off with an insanity plea. He’s going to pay for what he did.”

  I finish his message, and my entire body is tense. The more he wrote, the more unhinged his mental state appears to have grown. It’s the ravings of a madman, and he has Britt.

  She’s smart but she’s small, and I’m tormented by thoughts of her bound or caged. The thought of her hands trembling, and not being able to cover them with mine… the possibility he might hurt her sends frustrated rage across my shoulders.

  With every passing second, it grows worse. “Do you think he might hurt her?”

  Gwen’s eyes press closed, and her head bows. “I don’t know. He’s using her for leverage. As long as he thinks we’re cooperating, we have hope.”

  Exhaling a frustrated growl, I snap. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

  Incredulous eyes land on mine. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I said over and over—”

  “You said Lars was murdered, and I watched my dad investigate the case. Despite what you think, he cared about the truth. It’s why he called in the guy from Charleston.”

  “Your father said Lars had a risky profession, and he had to assume the risk of death was always part of it.”

  “He was trying to help you move on.”

  “Help me?” Her voice goes high.

  “We had proof his equipment failed. You never gave us any proof or any reason to believe you weren’t simply a grieving widow unable to let go.”

  “I never had proof. I only had magic.”

  “So why now? What provoked Stan to lash out now?”

  “I don’t know.” She lifts her hands and lets them fall. “I only know magic is always at the right time.”

  The right time. “This time he has Britt, and I don’t know how the fuck to find her.”

  “I have an idea.” She nods to Edward. “Bring the dog. We’re going back to Gary’s.”

  When we reach the small cabin, it’s roped off with tape and small cards are dotted everywhere indicating Britt’s processing of the scene. I can see her carefully picking apart the details, photographing everything as her mind solves the puzzle, turning the pieces, testing how they might fit. Desperation claws my insides. I’ve got to find her.

  Edward’s nose is to the ground, and he runs all over the place sniffing and tracking. He goes out to the carport where ATV tire tracks cover the soft dirt.

  “Britt said he could pick up a trail as old as two weeks.” I’m in a squat holding his leash, feeling more helpless than I ever have in my life.

  “Good thing. This trail is at least a week old, maybe more.”

  The dog gives me a pull, and I stand, following him as he leads us further into the scrub brush surrounding the property. Gwen is with me, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her in jeans and hiking boots. Her hair is tied back in a single, thick braid, and she actually looks like a normal person.

  We’re both straining, following as Britt’s dog traces an invisible line, back and forth, side to side, pulling us deeper into the marsh.

  “Think he’s onto something?” Gwen’s voice is quiet as we follow, as if any noise might distract him.

  “I’ve never worked with dogs, but this is what it always looks like.”

  He breaks into a run, pulling me with him, and I pick up the pace, splashing through briny water, anticipation gripping my lungs. Gwen is right behind me running as well, and I’ll be damned. If you’d told me three weeks ago, I’d be working with Gwen Bailey, trusting her and accepting her help with a case, I’d have said you were crazy.

  With a high-pitched yelp, Edward breaks through a stand of cattails, me right behind him, and when I see what he’s been tracking, my grip loosens. He takes the opportunity to dart away from me, but he doesn’t go far. He runs right up to the red three-wheeler and lifts his head in a long Rooo!

  “Shit,” I exhale a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. “He found it.”

  It’s not what we were hoping for, but at least it proves he’s doing his job. Dropping to one knee, I recover his leash, scrubbing my hands in the sides of his head the way Britt and Owen always do.

  “Good boy, Edward.” I scrub him some more, and he lifts his head like he’s nodding. “You’re a good tracker, ole boy.”

  Gwen frowns, crossing her arms and looking all around the area. “There’s nothing out here for miles. It’s all marsh.”

  “I’ll have the guys sweep the area and see what they can find on this vehicle. I doubt it’s registered anymore, but maybe we can figure out who purchased it and where they lived.”

  “Thirty years ago.”

  She’s saying what I’m feeling. It’s a longshot, but I have to keep my spirits up. It’s all I’ve got. “Let’s head back to Eureka and see if they’ve found anything on your laptop.”

  I won’t sleep tonight if we don’t make some kind of progress.

  I’m on my second day of no sleep. Owen is staying with my mom, and she agreed to keep Edward as well. We told my son Britt had to take a trip and needed him to watch her dog, and he was as happy as if we’d found a pack of wild zebras for him to ride.

  Meanwhile, it’s 6 a.m. at the courthouse, and I’m going quietly insane trying to find anything that might lead us to where Stan Roswell is hiding, where he’s holding my girl.

  I’m leaning forward with my forearms on my knees, and Edna places a mug of coffee beside me on the desk.

  “Looks like none of us are sleeping these days.” Her voice is weary, and I glance up to see dark shadows under her eyes.

  “It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” The words have just left my mouth when I remember saying the same thing to Britt when we were searching for Gary Blue.

  Dropping my face in my hands, I groan as understanding flashes through me.

  Gwen promised her she’d give us Gary, so Britt waited to see if her mother could do it. Sitting here, wracked with frustration over the impossibility of finding her, I know why she did it.

  “She wasn’t trying to betray me.” My voice cracks. “I was so fucking self-defensive, so wrapped up in my own head, I couldn’t see it.”

  “You see it now. That’s what matters.” Edna’s hand is on my shoulder.

  “What matters is finding her before it’s too late.”

  Pushing off my knees, I walk slowly in a line from my desk to the door of Edna’s office and back. How can we not have a single lead?

  “We’re going to get a breakthrough.” Edna walks to where I’m standing in front of her door. “We have to have faith.”

  Shaking my head, I look down. “I lost that years ago.”

  She places her hand on my arm, giving it a squeeze. “It’s not too late to find it again.” Passing me, she walks into her office and turns on her computer. “I’ve put out feelers in a few online groups. Something’s going to turn up. It’s impossible to hide in this community, especially for someone as flamboyant as Stan Roswell.”

  I hope she’s right. I hope one of the million things we’re trying turns up a lead. Doug has spent the last two days with EMS, sifting through rural addresses from Hilton Head to Charleston. The guys in Beaufort traced the email Gwen received to a coffee shop near Rockville.

  All we can do is hope for something to pop, and the waiting is torture.

  The front door opens, and Holly walks in with a box of donuts. Gwen is behind her, and when I’m not pissed at seeing her, it hits me how much our relationship has changed.

  “Anything new?” She comes to where I’m standing, and I shake my head no.

  With that one word, her legs seem to give out. I catch her, helping her sit in Doug’s nearby chair, and when I see tears streaming down her cheeks, it hits me unexpectedly hard.

  “We’re going to find her.” My voice is rough, and I close my eyes, summoning every lost bit of faith I can find. Trying again with more force, I repeat. “We are going to find her, Gwen.”

  “I thought the reading was for him.” Her hands tremble as she uses a cotton handkerchief to blot her cheeks. “I thought it was for Gary, but it was for her.”

  Holly walks over with a glazed donut in a paper napkin. “Donut?”

  Gwen shakes her head, but I catch her shoulder. “What are you talking about? What reading?”

  “The day she came to talk to me, I did a reading for Gary, for what was coming. It said chaos, betrayal, and death, and I interpreted it to mean his life was in chaos, he betrayed Stan, which led to his murder. I was wrong. It was for her. Eureka was in chaos, and I convinced her to betray you. Then—”

  “Stop.” My voice snaps, fueled by desperation. “Britt is not going to die. We’re not going to let that happen. We’re going to find her.”

  “Yes, we are!” Edna rushes into the room, and we both turn to face her. “I’ve got a lead. Gwen, do you remember Belinda Laurent?”

  “The lady in the box?” Her lip curls in disgust. “I thought she moved to Tampa.”

  “She did, but she’s in Charleston this weekend. She agreed to meet me at the Starbucks on Highway 17 in Green Pond.”

  I’m on my feet. “Let’s go.”

  A line of cars wraps around the lone Starbucks in the tiny community named after the algae in a nearby body of water. They’re all waiting for the drive-through, but we park and head inside where a woman in a large, burgundy wig, a white lace shirt, and a black leather biker jacket, sits with a cup of tea at a small table.

  Her eyes lift to us, but they immediately narrow when they land on Gwen.

  “I thought I was meeting with Edna.” She sounds like a longtime smoker, and her large bosom stretches her shirt as she stands.

  “She couldn’t make the drive, so you’re meeting with me.” Gwen’s tone is sharp, and I can tell these two have a history.

  “I’m not wasting my time talking to crazy people.” Belinda scoots between the chair and the table, attempting to leave.

  “What’s a few more minutes?” Gwen taunts, sitting across from the chair Belinda vacated. “You spent years working with one.”

  “Can we take it down a bit?” I glare at Gwen as I reach for Belinda’s elbow. “We came all this way, would you at least talk to me?”

  Her gaze to this point has been narrowed on Gwen, but she looks up at me now, and her brown eyes widen. They circle my face before tracing down my chest to my waist and lower, and I feel pretty much objectified. Whatever it takes to find Britt.