“I will give you until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“If I do not have the signed papers by then, I call the police department to report a kidnapping.”

“The media will be there to film your arrest.”

The line went dead.

The silence in the kitchen was deafening.

The rain outside seemed to mock us, tapping steadily against the glass.

“She is a monster,” I said.

“She does not care about them at all.”

“She only wants the money.”

“We knew that,” Ryker said.

He looked at the digital clock on the oven.

It was three o’clock in the morning.

We had five hours.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out, my heart racing.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I opened it.

It was a photo.

The image was blurry, taken through a rain-streaked car window.

It showed a small, run-down house in a wooded area.

A single light was on in the window.

Below the photo was a text from Marco.

“I found Clara,” the message read.

“But she is not alone.”