Chapter 66
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SIX
Andi saw a shape break from the darkness ahead, a moving shadow against darker ground.
The man was tall and fast. He cut toward the low rise as if he already knew where the land dipped and where it held.
“There!” Andi said.
Duke surged forward, and Andi followed after him. Her lungs burned as her legs pumped, the desert tearing at her shoes.
The distance closed faster than she expected.
The figure stumbled once, corrected, then slowed.
Too suddenly.
Her skin tightened.
The man turned, and light exploded in their eyes.
White fire punched through Andi’s vision. She threw an arm over her eyes, but it did nothing. The beam pinned her where she stood. It erased depth, erased distance, erased everything except the heat behind her eyes.
“Stop.” The man’s calm voice cut through the ringing in her ears. “I have a gun.”
Andi forced air into her lungs before asking, “Where is Kate?”
“She’s not important,” the man said.
Andi’s pulse thudded harder.
“Maybe you should worry about your friends instead,” he continued.
The desert seemed to tilt.
Mariella and Matthew.
Ranger and Simmy.
Rupert and Ben.
Cold slid through Andi’s chest as understanding sharpened inside her.
Had the man left a surprise for them also? Was Fake Pam with them? He was clearly working with someone.
Duke shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Andi’s arm. His presence felt like an anchor. Like a promise.
He said nothing. He didn’t need to.
She knew what he was thinking.
Do not move blind.
Do not trade one life for another.
The light pressed harder, as if the man sensed the change in her. “You’re smart. You know this isn’t the moment for heroics.”
Andi swallowed.
The desert stretched behind the light, endless and empty. Ahead—unknown. Behind—people she loved.
She lowered her arm an inch and let the glare burn. “What do you want?”
Silence answered.
And in that silence, Andi made her choice—knowing whatever she did next would cost her something she couldn’t get back.
The light held.
White. Solid. Close enough that Duke felt its heat along his cheek, felt it flatten distance and depth into nothing.
He couldn’t see the man, couldn’t read posture or hands. He could only hear him.
That bothered Duke more than the glare.
The voice scraped at something familiar. The way the man clipped consonants. The way he held pauses, measured and deliberate, like he expected people to wait for him.
Duke searched his memory for a match, but he came up empty.
Who was this guy?
Andi shifted beside him.
Duke felt it before he saw it—the subtle turn of her body, her weight shifting back toward the direction they’d come from.
The van.
“No,” Duke said under his breath.
“I wouldn’t,” the man warned. “I said I have a gun.”
Andi froze.
Duke adjusted his stance without moving his feet, angling his body between Andi and the beam as much as the glare allowed.
“I know what happened to your friend,” Andi said. “To Crystal. I know she went missing and no one looked for her. That must have been hard. It was definitely unfair.”
The man’s breath changed. Duke heard the sharp pull of air.
“You have no idea.” The man’s words came faster.
Duke seized the opening. “That doesn’t mean everyone else who ever disappeared needs to pay for what happened to your friend.”
“Of course it does!” the man snapped. “People need to know how it feels. That’s all Crystal wants. She wants people to understand her pain.”
“So this was all Crystal’s idea?” Andi asked.
“She wanted me to grab them—she had very specific criteria. It wasn’t easy to find people at every location. But I did. I did it for her.”
“She wanted these women to know how it feels to be overlooked,” Andi said. “Is that right?”
“Yes! Then she wanted me to let them go. But . . .”
“But what?” Duke asked, not sure he wanted to hear.
“But I found myself enjoying the process more than I thought I would. It became a bit like the games I would play when I was younger. I was always good at strategy. And in the military, I learned about psychological warfare. I was fascinated on the role the mind plays for these things.”
“The problem is,” Andi started. “These women are innocent. They don’t deserve any of this.”
The man laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. “No one is innocent.”
Andi pushed again. “Why target people on our tour route?”
“Because six months ago, I emailed asking for your help!” the man said. “I asked you to investigate. To care. And you ignored me.”
“We get hundreds of emails,” Andi said. “It’s unfortunate, but we can’t help everyone. It’s impossible.”
“Or was it because you didn’t think we were important enough?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Andi kept her voice calm. “It really wasn’t.”
But the man didn’t seem to hear her. “Then you decided to go on a tour and be in the limelight, soak up attention from your fans like you’re some kind of celebrities. It’s disgraceful.”
Duke’s chest tightened.
“She didn’t matter then,” the man continued. “So these other people shouldn’t matter either.”
That was why he hadn’t wanted these cases to get any media coverage.
As Duke listened, a memory clicked into place.
Not an image. Not a face.
A voice.
The man sounded vaguely familiar. His tone might be slightly different now. Deeper. More energized.
Yet it was still somehow recognizable.
His breath caught.
Duke suddenly knew where he’d heard this man before. He knew how he fit. How he’d slid past their attention time and time again.
His pulse kicked hard.
He knew exactly who stood behind the light.