28. Finn
The van had seen better decades.
Charlie, Sabrina, and Finn were crammed in a parked service vehicle a block away from Lucie’s shop.
The once-blue-and-red-painted vehicle had a cartoon plumber on the side holding a smiling wrench. The car was one rainy day from becoming a pile of rust and four balding tires.
The back of the car had been gutted out and replaced with monitors, tool racks, surveillance equipment, and the walls were lined with cables spiderwebbed across the ceiling. It smelled like greasy pizza and stale coffee. All with one working air vent, wheezing for life.
“You think anyone’s actually called the number on the side of the car?” Charlie asked, not looking up from the tablet balanced against the steering wheel.
Finn shifted again, knee bouncing.
“Why?” Finn asked, biting his thumbnail.
“We look like kidnappers. No way anyone actually calls it,” Sabrina guessed, biting the head off a sour gummy worm.
From their comms, Whistler, their eleven-year-old tech wiz, voice cracked in, “Twice. Once was a solicitor. The other was a guy with a burst pipe.”
“That sucks. He called the wrong guys,” Charlie said, threading a wire inside Sabrina’s collar.
Finn muted his comms.
“Five bucks the kid helped him fix it over the phone,” Finn offered, tucking his gun behind his waistband.
Charlie mouthed, “You’re on,” then said, turning on his comms, “Bet you sent him to another plumber.”
“No, I helped him. It was just a simple leak,” Whistler clarified. Sabrina stifled a laugh as she got out of the car. Finn and Charlie gave each other a look, the five-dollar bill now in Finn’s wallet, where it belonged.
“Testing comms three, two, one,” Charlie called, pressing the button on the headphone in his ear.
“This is Stardust. I hear you loud and clear, Mountaineer,” Sabrina confirmed.
“Audio’s clean. Your mic’s working. Visuals are . . . good. There is a three-second delay in the footage,” Whistler’s voice chimed.
They watched on the monitors in the gutted-out van as Sabrina walked toward the shop. They were piggybacking on the traffic cameras, as well as the shop’s grainy camera footage from both the exterior and interior feeds. Sabrina’s monitor feed swayed with each of her steps.
Finn squinted his eyes. “Left side of the street’s got a delivery truck idling.”
“I see it,” Sabrina muttered.
“If something feels off—” Charlie started, gripping the steering wheel.
There was a small exhale through her mic—almost like a laugh.
“You’re so bossy in confined spaces,” she teased.
“I’m serious,” Charlie said.
“I’ll be okay,” Sabrina comforted.
“I know, but if something feels off, don’t second-guess it. Don’t wait for confirmation. Tap your comm twice and get out of there,” Charlie insisted.
“Don’t worry,” she said, grabbing onto the doorknob. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The bell twinkled as she walked through the shop’s door.
Inside the van went quiet.
Finn threaded his hands through his hair.
“I’m picking up twelve heat signatures in the shop,” Whistler reported. The fourth monitor showed the shop’s parking lot with two minivans.
“Any on the second floor near the rear?” Finn asked, leaning forward in his seat.
Typing and clicking from Whistler’s end filled the silence in the car.
“No,” Whistler said, confirming his greatest fear.
This was all his fault. He should have been there weeks ago to check on her. What if she were dating someone else? What if she were sick? What if she were at school? What if she never called because she died?
Finn’s heart quickened.
No.
She couldn’t be dead. There was something in him that would have known if her soul had left him alone in the universe again. Once he got her back, he was never letting her go. He didn’t care if she still hated him. She could hate him all she wanted; he just needed her to be alive and happy.
On the screen, Sabrina moved around the store, her posture casual, but he knew she was looking for any sign of her. There was a good chance Lucie would be standing there, and he was worried for nothing. But he wasn’t that lucky.
Kids bobbed and weaved between Sabrina’s legs as they begged their parents for toys and candy.
Lucie’s father’s grating voice called out from the stacks, something about sweatshirts on sale or something like that.
Sabrina’s camera shifted.
There weren’t any drawings behind the counter. This is bad.
Finn saw it in the footage—the stillness of the place. Life had been sucked out of the room. Even the dull color from the cameras could sense it. The shelves were hastily stacked, with large sections missing merchandise.
No Lucie.
His hands gripped the back of the seat, his knuckles turning white.
This wasn’t happening.
He was dreaming. Soon, he would wake up from this awful nightmare and fall back asleep and dream of her lips as he had done hours ago.
“Switch feeds. Zoom in on the counter,” Charlie said, rubbing his lips and pulling Finn out of his spiraling thoughts.
Whistler complied, pulling the camera tight, right on Lucie’s father. He was now standing there like he was a king guarding over his dominion.
Finn bit back a harsh swear. Her dad looked worse than he had seen him last. More unkempt. Fatter. Sweatier. His face was reddened and puffy.
Finn recognized the look.
He’d seen it too many times on men who liked control but had no control when it came to drinking.
Lucie’s father’s eyes caressed Sabrina’s body, up and down.
Charlie’s body tensed.
The weight of the situation hit him in a wave.
He had left Lucie alone with this pig.
Sabrina’s body language was calm and collected—just another customer passing through.
Finn could see through her calm demeanor. The tension between her shoulder blades. She usually did that right before a fight. Even her foot was sliding backward in case she needed to throw her weight forward into a hit. She was on high alert.
“Did you find everything you were looking for, princess?” the pig asked Sabrina, licking his greasy lips.
“Can I kill him now?” Charlie growled next to him.
“Not until we find out where Lucie is,” Finn said, liking his friend’s plan.
Their attention returned to the video feed.
“I’m actually looking for Lucie,” Sabrina said with a saccharine smile. “We used to go to college together, and I was just dropping by to say hi.”
The father’s smile faltered, looking her up and down like a butcher at a meat store.
“She doesn’t work here anymore,” he sneered.
Finn’s stomach lurched.
“Oh, do you know how I can get in contact with her? A few of the girls and I would like?—”
“Are you going to buy something or not?” he threatened.
Charlie sat up. Finn placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, pushing him back down. Finn’s anger mirrored Charlie’s, but he stayed silent, staring at the monitor. They needed more information.
Sabrina placed a package of cherry sours on the counter right in front of the leech.
“Just these.”
The pig rang her up and threw her change onto the counter for her to pick up.
“Alright, tell her I said hi,” Sabrina said, holding his gaze. Then she calmly grabbed her change and headed for the door.
The father didn’t respond. Just watched her leave. Unblinking.
She was handling it. That’s why she was there—because she could stay cool. Finn, on the other hand, wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Charlie either. If Finn went in there, the man would have woken up in jail in need of a dentist.
“I’ve never killed anyone before, but for him I’d make an exception,” Sabrina promised under her breath as her shoes crunched down the gravel path back to the car.
It wasn’t lost on Finn the depravity of men. It looked like Sabrina was just used to it. Disappointed but used to it. He couldn’t tell what was worse.
The van door slid open. Sabrina’s once cheerful demeanor was haunted.
“We have to get her out of there,” she said, getting into the vehicle and slamming the door shut. “Did you see the way he looked at me? I don’t care what my dad says; but Lucie needs to get out of here. Do you think she’d want to live at the Way Station?”
“Did you see any signs of her?” Finn asked.
Sabrina shook her head. “I planted a mic underneath the counter, but I didn’t see her.”
Before they left the Way Station Whistler checked to see if Lucie was at Virginia Tech; she pulled out the night after Finn left, and they couldn’t find her anywhere. Her last known location was at home.
“Okay, Whistler, let’s pull up the exterior cams,” Charlie said. “Let’s go back a week. I wanna see what’s goin’ on around that place.”
Whistler was already on it, switching feeds to the cameras positioned outside the building. Finn’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched the screen flicker to life, images from the past week flashing by.
They watched the days in reverse. Night to day. Night to day.
It showed Lucie’s father—opening the store, closing it, going about his daily routine, and leaving for the bar. Over and over again, for days on end. Whistler even pulled up the footage from his favorite local dive bar—nothing but a lot of men drinking and shouting at the TVs.
“Try two weeks,” Charlie ordered.
Nothing.
Not at three weeks.
Or at four.
“Where the hell is she?” Finn growled, leaning forward, his eyes burning into the screen.
“It’s like she disappeared off the face of the Earth,” Sabrina whispered, tears filling her eyes.
“There is no sight of her leaving the building,” Charlie said quietly, his brows furrowed in concentration, rubbing her back. “Not in a month. How is that possible?”
Whistler scrubbed through the footage faster, pulling up different angles, but they all told the same story. Finn’s chest tightened as the realization hit him.
Whistler’s fingers flew across the keyboard, rewinding the footage further. “Just the dad. Every single day,” the eleven-year-old said grimly. “You don’t think Ms. Nightingale is dead? Do you?”
The thought of a Lucie-sized pile of kitty litter to hide the smell and the decomposition in her father’s basement stopped his frantic movements. He couldn’t shake the image, the grim possibility that her father had already covered his tracks, hiding the evidence of what he’d done.
If she were dead . . . he was going to burn that store down with the monster chained to the floor.
If Isla just sat here while Lucie was being murdered, he’d kill her too.
“No,” Charlie rushed, cutting off the idea. “She’s not dead. She can’t be.”
Finn stopped, his eyes locked on the screen, a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. The cameras had a perfect view of the store—and the upstairs window. Whistler got the last night Finn was there, climbing up the tree, bleeding out.
His heart hammered in his chest.
“That son of a—” Finn stood up abruptly, shoving the chair back with a screech.
“He saw me. He saw me go in and out. The whole time he knew.” His voice was a low growl, fury simmering just beneath the surface.
The guilt was overwhelming, choking him.
Lucie was trapped somewhere in that house, paying the price for his visits.
Air left his lungs.
He had been careful; he thought he was, but Lucie’s father had seen him. He had to have known. Now Lucie was suffering for it.
Charlie glanced at him, his expression serious but steady. “What do you want to do? It’s your call.”
“We’re getting her. Now.” His voice was barely controlled, rage bubbling just beneath the surface.
Charlie’s calm voice cut through the fog. “Finn, we have to think this through. We can come back tonight, ask around town if anyone’s seen her.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” Finn snapped, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of the chair. “I can’t leave her there. We’re bringing her back with us.”
Charlie stood, placing a hand on Finn’s shoulder, his grip firm but not harsh. “We’ll get her, but we need to be smart. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
Finn’s chest heaved, the words barely registering over the roar in his ears. All he could think about was Lucie—hurt, scared, alone.
“I can’t wait,” he muttered, yanking his shoulder out of Charlie’s grasp.
“We’re not waiting,” Charlie said, standing firm. “But you need to be focused when we go in there. She might be hurt and need you.”
Finn exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stop shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get a grip on the flood of emotions overwhelming him. He glanced at the screen, watching the still image of Lucie’s father leaving the store to go to the bar, unaware of the storm heading his way.
“I have an idea,” Finn finally said, his voice low but resolute.
Charlie grabbed his gear, giving Whistler an order to monitor the cameras and report back to them.
They were getting Lucie. And nothing was going to stop him.