Chapter 52
The pavement felt cold beneath Naomi’s palms.
Micah was saying something, but the words kept sliding away before they reached her.
Gio’s office. The glow of his desk lamp. Her own hands spreading documents across the polished surface, pointing to numbers that didn’t add up, transfers that shouldn’t exist.
I’ll take care of it, Naomi. Trust me.
“Naomi.”
She blinked.
Micah was crouched in front of her, one hand on her shoulder.
Had her eyes drifted closed?
“Stay with me,” he said. “Right here. Look at me.”
She blinked as she tried to bring him into focus.
“Good.” His eyes were steady on hers. “Can you tell me what day it is?”
“Thursday.” She pressed her hand harder against her temple. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” He pulled a small flashlight from his belt and held up a finger. “Follow this.”
She followed it. He shone the light carefully in each eye, watching.
Whatever he saw made his jaw tighten. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Grace’s face flashed in her mind, and she grabbed his wrist. “No. Micah, we have to get Grace.”
“You hit your head—”
“I know I hit my head.” Her voice cracked on the words. “I know. But Grace is in a SUV with strangers, and she’s scared, and she needs me, and I’m not sitting on the side of this road waiting for an ambulance.” She held his gaze. “Please.”
Something moved through his expression.
He didn’t like her proposal. She could see exactly how much he didn’t like it.
But he nodded and stood before pulling her carefully to her feet. He kept one hand firm at her elbow until he was sure she had her balance.
“Can you issue an AMBER alert?” she asked.
“I can—but I’m going to wait. Right now, we still have a chance of finding her on our own.”
Then he lifted his radio.
“All units, this is Sheriff Sutherland. I need every available deputy and state trooper within sixty miles looking for a dark SUV last seen heading south on Route 9. Possible split at the county line. Treat as priority—infant abduction in progress.” He rattled off the plate number he’d memorized the moment their vehicle cleared the curve.
“I need someone running those plates now. Report directly to me.”
Responses crackled back. Voices Naomi couldn’t quite track using codes she couldn’t decipher. Micah answered each one in clipped, efficient sentences, already thinking three steps ahead.
She watched him and tried to hold herself together.
Then he called for Knox to come to his location. Not many people took this road. They were going to be stuck out here for a while unless Micah got one of his deputies here.
Grace’s face floated into her mind—so innocent and sweet.
Stop. Don’t go there. Focus.
She pressed her fingers to her temple and breathed.
Then it hit her again.
Not the attack this time. Something earlier.
She was at her desk—her old desk in New York, the one by the window that looked out over the street.
It was late, and the office mostly empty.
She’d been going through quarterly reports when she’d found the first discrepancy.
A transfer, routed through three different accounts, ending somewhere it shouldn’t.
She’d almost missed it.
She’d gone back through six months of records that night, and she’d found several more suspicious findings. In the end, she had pages of notes she didn’t know what to do with.
So she’d done the logical thing. She’d gone to Gio.
Because I trusted him.
He’d promised to look into it.
The memory dissolved before it finished forming, leaving only a residue—the sick feeling of having trusted the wrong person.
“Hey.” Micah’s hand was on her arm. “You went somewhere again.”
“I’m here.” She blinked hard. “I’m here.”
His eyes searched her face. “What’s happening? And don’t say nothing.”
“Flashbacks. From New York. They keep—” She shook her head. “I can’t quite catch them. They’re there, and then they’re gone.”
Micah was quiet a moment. “Your memories.”
“I think so.” She pressed her hand to her temple again. “I think they’re coming back. But right now I can’t . . . I can’t sort through them. Not until Grace is safe.”
He studied her face another long moment.
Then he nodded. “Okay.”
They would have the chance to talk later . . . he hoped.
Right now, he needed to get another deputy here so he could use his vehicle and gun.
Then he was going to go after these guys himself.
Knox pulled up fast and threw open his door before the vehicle fully stopped.
“Sheriff.” He climbed out in one motion, taking in the scene—Micah without a weapon, Naomi with blood at her temple, the empty road. His expression darkened. “What do you need?”
“Your keys.” Micah held out his hand.
Knox tossed them without hesitation.
“And I’m going to need your gun,” Micah said.
Knox handed it over.
Micah turned to Naomi and guided her toward the passenger side. She moved under her own power. But her hand kept drifting toward her temple, and twice in the last five minutes he’d watched her eyes go somewhere far away and come back looking shaken.
He didn’t like it.
He didn’t like any of this.
He called out a few instructions to Knox—including asking him to have more deputies come and check the woods. Those men may have left something behind there that would give a clue about their identity.
Then he got behind the wheel and pulled the door shut. Knox was already on his radio in the back seat, coordinating units. Good man. Micah didn’t have to tell him twice.
He turned south on Route 9 and pushed the accelerator down.
Beside him, Naomi sat with her hand pressed flat against her thigh as if she was trying to ground herself. He saw the effort it took her to stay present. Whatever was happening in her head—the flashbacks, the fragments—she was fighting through them.
He focused on the road.
The SUV had a twelve-minute head start. Maybe fourteen.
His radio crackled. The license plate belonged to man named William Davis. He lived off Route 9 near the Miller Creek turnoff.
He grabbed the radio. “All units converge on Miller Creek Road. Do not engage until I’m on scene. Repeat—do not engage.”
He pushed the vehicle harder.
Beside him, Naomi winced.
He looked at her. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.” But her jaw was tight, and her eyes had gone distant again for just a second before she pulled them back. “Just drive. Please.”
He drove.
But he watched her from the corner of his eye.
She wasn’t fine.
But she was holding together. Right now, that had to be enough.
In his head, a clock was ticking. Every second that passed was another second Grace wasn’t with them. That she was in danger.
They hit a straight stretch of road, and Micah tightened his hands on the wheel as he jammed the pedal to the floorboard.
“We’re going to get her back.” This time, he didn’t say the words to reassure Naomi.
He said them as a promise to himself.