The room was dark.

That much, Cam could tell.

She blinked, wincing as that simple maneuver shot fiery pain through her temple.

Where was she?

She forced herself to keep her eyes open and tried to adjust to the dim light in the room. She couldn’t see much: cement walls, cement floor. To one side appeared to be a bank of windows that were papered over with something, barely allowing any light to filter through.

She shifted, realizing then that she was seated in a chair.

Seated and bound.

She flexed her hands, then her arms, but the ropes held tight.

What the hell?

The last memory she had was fuzzy, and she tried to focus on it, to remember every last detail.

She’d been driving. A cop had pulled her over. Forced her out of the car. Hit her with something.

That was it. Everything else was a blank.

She had no idea how long she’d been out for. No idea where she was.

And no idea what would happen next.

A soft moan sounded from her right and she whipped her head in that direction, a strangled cry coming from her throat as the pain rocketed through her head. There was a chair set a foot or two to her right, but behind her just enough so she couldn’t get a good view. She craned her neck, finally bringing it into view.

There was someone in the chair. Tied up, just like her.

She squinted into the darkness. The person was taller than her, thin. Features were indiscernible, but she saw a hat. Even in the dark, she could just make out the name emblazoned on the front.

Magic.

She sucked in a ragged breath.

Whoever had taken her had gotten their hands on Necco, too.

She stared at the boy. His head hung limply forward, and she sincerely hoped that meant he was just unconscious and not dead. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw something dark running down the side of Necco’s face.

Blood.

Cam’s eyes filled with tears. Not of sadness, but of anger. White-hot anger. Who the fuck would hurt a kid? A kid whose only crime had been to talk to Cam?

She looked away, trying to get her emotions under control. She needed to be calm, needed to figure out a way to get them both out of wherever it was they were.

Her gaze landed on a shadowy figure standing near what looked to be a door. A man—that was all she could make out. She glared at him even though she wasn’t sure he could see her in the darkness. She struggled once more against the ropes, willing them to shift so she could wiggle free. She wanted nothing more than to launch herself at this man, dropkick him to the floor, and get her and Necco the hell out of there.

The door opened and a beam of light sliced through the darkness. Cam quickly closed her eyes and dipped her head.

She didn’t want her captors to know she’d come to.

“What the fuck is going on?” a man barked.

Cam stole a quick peek. There were two men standing near the door, and the light coming in provided a much better view of them now. One man, the one she initially saw, was the cop who had pulled her over.

She gritted her teeth. Bastard.

The other man was a stranger. Just as tall as the first guy, but beefier. He looked like someone who might work as a bouncer at a club. She couldn’t make out his features but noticed dark hair and what looked to be a beard.

The cop spoke up. “You…you told me to take care of the problem, Sarge,” he said timidly.

Cam froze.

Sarge.

Any doubts she might have had about who had taken her and Necco—and why—vanished.

“Alex is the problem,” Sarge snapped. “Not these two.” He scrubbed a hand over his head and started to pace. “We can’t just go around kidnapping people, you idiot. Especially a fucking cop from another city.”

Cam peeked again.

The cop looked visibly taken aback. “She’s a cop? I… She said that, but I thought she was just messin’ with me. I…I didn’t know, man.”

“Ignorance is never an excuse,” Sarge said icily.

Cam could almost hear the other man swallow. “So what are we gonna do?”

“The only thing we can do,” Sarge grated out. “Make them disappear.”

Cam shuddered.

“Hey.” Sarge’s voice was sharp.

She didn’t dare look up.

Footsteps sounded on the cement floor, and she knew he was moving closer. Her heart roared in her ears, but she kept her head hanging as loosely as possible, her eyes squeezed tight.

A hand yanked her head up by the hair and her eyes flew open.

“Well, well, well,” Sarge said. His eyes were as black as his hair. Black as the devil himself. “Someone playing at being asleep?”

She spit, spraying his face.

He just grinned, her spittle hanging from his lip. “You’re a feisty little bitch, aren’t you?”

She glared at him. She wasn’t going to look away. She wasn’t going to show any weakness at all. He was the kind of person who would devour that; she could already tell.

He yanked something from his pocket. A rag. He jammed it into Cam’s mouth and she tried not to gag. It reeked of cigarettes, tasted like vomit. She wondered how often he’d used that same rag to gag other people. She fought the bile rising up her throat.

“Let’s make sure we keep you quiet, shall we?” he murmured. He brought his face within inches of hers. “And let’s make sure we keep your bodily fluids to yourself.” He wiped at the spittle on his face and transferred it to her cheek, a menacingly soft gesture. “Or maybe we can exchange other bodily fluids. Hmm, pretty lady? Would you like that?”

Her eyes shot fire at him and she said, “Fuck you.” But the rag muffled the sound and Sarge just smiled, delighted that he’d elicited a response from her.

He reached into his pocket again, this time withdrawing a switchblade. He flicked it open and held it up, letting the light glint off the metal before bringing it to Cam’s neck. He dug the blade into her skin, just enough to create an uncomfortable amount of pressure. She could feel her pulse beating wildly and she struggled to bring it under control.

“It’s a shame Alex got you involved.” His voice was a deadly whisper. “Such a pretty thing.” With his free hand, he stroked her hair. The touch was too intimate, especially when he tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “And such a good detective.”

Her eyes widened.

He noticed. “I did a search on you. Of course I did.” He chuckled to himself. “Such a hard worker, aren’t you? What a shame for your department to lose you.”

She made a gurgling noise.

“I know,” he said, his voice dripping with sympathy. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. You or this kid. But you’ve left me with no other choice. You realize that, right?” His expression hardened. “You did this to yourself. Not me. I’m just following this out to its natural conclusion.”

He was delusional. Even in her panicked state, Cam knew this.

“Sarge,” the other man began, but the sergeant silenced him with a look. The man took a step back.

Sarge returned his attention to Cam, looking at her almost tenderly. “I was wrong. This isn’t just your fault.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the cop. “Dipshit over there had a hand in this, too.” He lowered his voice. “Trust me, he’ll pay.” Louder, he said, “But it doesn’t matter who’s at fault, does it? Not when the end result is the same. I need to wipe the slate clean, Camila. Make sure there are no loose ends to this whole fucked-up mess. Which means I need to take care of the both of you.”

Cam glanced at Necco. He was still passed out, still oblivious to what was going on.

Sarge chuckled. “That one is disposable,” he said, waving indifferently at Necco. “No one will care that he’s gone. But you?” He sobered. “I need to think about what to do with you. A staged suicide, perhaps?” He stroked his chin. “But I’ve already done that…”

Cam stared at him. He’d staged a suicide? A story from a couple of years back popped in her memory. A cop from Bentley who had been found shot in the head in an alley. There was no sign of foul play, no signs of a scuffle. The department had been reluctant to rule it a suicide, but there was no evidence that pointed to anything else. Police officers from around the state had attended the funeral, including some from Aspen Falls.

He leaned close and adjusted the rag lodged in her mouth, almost as if he were straightening a tie. He smiled at her. “The clock is ticking, I’m afraid,” he murmured. “Which means one thing.”

She struggled once more against the ropes.

His smile widened. “It means I’m going to have to take care of you sooner rather than later.”