I pulled it toward me, my chest aching.

The blanket was empty.

Inside, where my daughter should have been, lay a small, battery-operated speaker.

The speaker was emitting the pre-recorded sound of a baby’s cry on a loop.

A cold dread washed over me.

The trap was complete.

I looked up just as a heavy blow struck the back of my head.

The world faded to black, the sound of the loop still ringing in my ears.

I woke up to the smell of damp earth and smoke.

My hands were bound behind my back with heavy zip-ties.

The rain had stopped, but the air was freezing.

I was sitting against a concrete wall inside what looked like an abandoned utility shed.

A single lantern flickered on a wooden crate in the center of the room.

In the shadows sat Daniel.

His face was bruised, and his shirt was torn.

He looked up at me, his eyes hollow and defeated.

“They have both of us, Morgan,” he whispered.

“We’re not getting out of here.”

“Where is Emma, Daniel?” I demanded, my voice hoarse.