The lawn was still full of people.
Boxes.
Neighbors.
Children.
But Kevin wasn’t near the porch.
“Kevin?”
No answer.
Emily stepped outside.
“Kevin!”
Julia’s son pointed toward the sidewalk.
“He went with the man.”
Every part of me froze.“What man?”
The boy pointed toward the end of the street.
“The restaurant man.”
Greg.
I ran.
Barefoot again.
Down the steps.
Across the lawn.
“KEVIN!”
At the far end of the block, a dark sedan turned the corner.
Too fast.
I saw Kevin in the back seat.
Just for one second.
His face pressed against the glass.
My heart stopped.
Richard shouted for his security team.
People scrambled toward the SUVs.
I was already running into the street.
Then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
Kevin sitting in the back seat.
Scared but unharmed.
Beneath it was a message.
IF YOU WANT YOUR SON BACK, STOP ASKING ABOUT THOMAS MERRICK.
