“There has to be a loophole,” I muttered. “The trust was drafted under Illinois law five years ago.”

“Find it, Tessa,” Ryker said. “I need time to figure out what happened to Mara.”

“The emergency order buys us forty-eight hours if I can prove Voss is unfit,” I said. “But we need evidence of his connection to Celeste Reed.”

“We will find it,” Ryker said.

He wrapped his arm around Owen, pulling the boy closer to his side.

The highway stretched out ahead of us, slick with fresh snow.

My tablet screen flickered.

An incoming email notification popped up from an unlisted address.

The subject line was blank.

I tapped the message, expecting another legal filing.

Instead, it was an image file.

I opened it, and the breath caught in my throat.

It was a photograph of the very SUV we were sitting in, taken from a high angle.

The red dot of a laser sight was centered directly on the rear windshield.

Below the photo was a single line of text.

*Turn the children over, or we will stop the car ourselves.*