Retribution by Lynette Eason Page B

expect him to answer, but still . . .
    â€œI don’t know, but we’ll find her and she’ll be fine.”
    â€œLike everyone else in your family?” she exploded. “Your aunt’s not fine, she’s in jail. Carmen’s not fine, we never see her becauseshe can’t stand to be reminded of her parents.” Carmen, Colton’s cousin who’d witnessed her mother try to kill her father. “We’re not fine because the past won’t let us go. And now Meg.” Her baby who still woke up screaming in the middle of the night ever since she’d been rescued seven years ago. “Seven years, Colton.”
    â€œIt’s been a good seven years, Jillian, in spite of a few things.”
    â€œYes. Yes it has been,” she whispered. “I suppose I knew it couldn’t last forever.”
    He shot her a sharp look. “Stop.”
    She sniffed. “I am. I am. I’m sorry. You’re right.”
    Darkness pressed in on her, making it hard to catch her breath. Fear, terror, and the horror of what could be happening to Meg made her want to scream. She clenched her fists and prayed.
    â€œHe called me,” Colton said. “I don’t think it’s her.”
    â€œWhat do you mean he called you? Who is he?”
    Colton handed her his phone. “Look at the first text at the top. It’s a picture of her. She’s asleep or unconscious, but she’s not dead. I don’t know who he is or what he wants.” Colton’s fingers flexed around the wheel. “Right now, we’re under his thumb. He’s in control. Right now we can only wait.”
    Jillian brought up the picture. Meg’s sweet face filled the screen. Her perfection nearly made her weep. “Oh baby, where are you?” Colton’s hand reached across and squeezed hers. She squeezed back. “But why? Did he say why?”
    â€œNo.”
    Jillian fell silent, staring at Meg. She studied the picture, trying to see behind her, beneath her, above her. Anything that might tell her where she was.
    But the picture was a close-up, Meg’s dark lashes resting against her pale cheeks.
    Colton pulled into the mall parking lot and headed straight for the flashing lights and crime scene tape. The officer with the crime scene logbook held up a hand and Colton flashed his badge, gave his name, and looked at Jillian. “Stay here.”
    She unbuckled her seatbelt, chin quivering. “No way.”
    Colton’s hand shot out to stop her. “You can’t go with me.” He shot a glance at the tarp-covered body. “You don’t want to see this.”

4
    Colton didn’t want to see it either. What if he was wrong? What if it was Meg? His heart pounded hard enough to hurt.
    Serena looked up from her phone. “Oh Colton, I was getting ready to call you. It’s not Meg.”
    His knees threatened to give out on him even as relief swept him. He swallowed. “Right. Thanks.”
    â€œSorry for the scare.”
    He nodded, unable to speak for a moment.
    â€œIt’s not her,” Jillian stated from behind him, her monotone worrying him. Was she in shock? Fear overload?
    He turned and gripped her arm. “No, it’s not.”
    She raised a trembling hand to her lips. “I’m so glad, but . . .”
    â€œI know.” Because while the girl wasn’t Meg, she was somebody’s sister, daughter, granddaughter. “I know.”
    â€œNow what?” Jillian asked.
    â€œWe keep searching while the lab processes the evidence.” He cleared his throat. “And we pray.”

    Meg blinked against the harsh light and tried to roll over to bury her face in the pillow. She frowned when her arms wouldn’t move.
    She jerked her right arm.
    Something cold encircled her wrist.
    And memory returned.
    A scream welled. She swallowed it back. “Tanner?” Her voice came out in a croak. She tried again.