Liam was standing right beside me, his hands scraped and bleeding from the gravel.

“That’s my voice,” Liam whispered, his face turning pale under the dim alley light. “But I didn’t make that call, Audrey. I swear to you.”

Detective Holt did not lower her weapon.

She pressed the phone closer to her ear, her eyes darting between Liam and me.

“Where are you?” Holt asked into the receiver, her voice tight and low.

Only static answered her, followed by the sharp click of a disconnected line.

The screen went black, casting us back into the shadows of the alley.

“She’s heading to the old charity hall,” Holt said, lowering her gun just an inch.

“Beatrice?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“She has Chloe,” Holt said. “And she has the rest of the transfer documents.”

Liam stepped in front of me, his arm reaching out to shield my body.

“We’re going with you,” Liam said.

Holt looked at him, then at me, her expression hard and unreadable.

“Get in the car,” she said.

We ran through the damp night air toward her unmarked sedan parked at the curb.