Deadly Sins

Copyright © 2026 by Elle Gray | K.S. Gray

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Eight years ago…

The bang of the gavel was enough to send a shiver of excitement down John Grace’s spine. Another case neatly wrapped up, another villain off his streets. There was a murmur of excitement through the courtroom, a sign that he’d done it yet again. These people worshiped the ground he walked on. And rightly so. He delivered justice every time.

It had been a long and arduous case. It had been years of chasing for the police to catch Ronaldo Pereira, a notorious crime family boss who had been giving them trouble all around Washington, DC. He was the worst of the worst, dabbling in just about every crime he could manage. Drugs. Gambling. Blackmail. Fraud. Kidnapping. He’d managed to nail him for every single one.

Ronaldo would be serving multiple life sentences and would never see the light of day again.

They’d managed to get some other major players in the game too. Top lieutenants, enforcers, fixers. And yes, there were others out there in the Pereira family who would likely carry on his legacy, but John had pinned the leader. He’d cut off the head of the snake. Maybe another would emerge from the shadows, but without Ronaldo’s leadership, they would be lost like babes in the wood.

This looked like a win to everyone around him. He would be praised for it, that was for sure. Who cared if Ronaldo was staring daggers at him across the room? He wasn’t a concern anymore. He had the power now.

He watched as Ronaldo was escorted by two guards out of the room. Look at you now, John thought as he observed him. He had the look of a man who had fallen far, far from grace. A man who had lost every battle in a war he started. He was disheveled from long days in court, his eyes sunken from the lingering realization of his life falling apart for everyone to see. His empire crumbled to ruins.

The sight made John want to smile, but he knew it was unprofessional to do so. He would celebrate on his own time. For now, quiet glee was all he was allowed.

Ronaldo’s face was red with fury as he spat on the ground, wrestling with the guards and swearing in Spanish.

“This isn’t over!” he hissed. “You’d better watch your back, prosecutor. Justice will come for you.”

“Justice is my servant, not yours,” John said with a cloying smile. He could allow himself a moment of weakness to be smug. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Ronaldo started to retort, but the bailiffs yanked him hard by his elbow and he was taken from the room before he could make any impact. There was applause from the others in the room to celebrate the prosecution and John stood to accept the attention, nodding to others around the room in acknowledgement. He never grew tired of the appreciation he received in his line of work. He had never minded the limelight, which was fortunate after becoming one of the most high-profile criminal prosecutors in the country. He had worked on some truly fascinating cases over the years, and he rarely came out of the courtroom with a result he was unhappy with. Even when things didn’t go his way, he placated the room with assurances of coming back stronger every time. It was rewarding, satisfying work. It gave him purpose beyond anything else in life. Nothing was quite as fulfilling as finishing a juicy case. Nothing at all.

And knowing that big promotions would be coming for him after this monumental case was just the cherry on top.

His paparazzi were waiting for him outside the courthouse, as were his family: his wife, Caroline, and his daughter, Matilda. Caroline had a big smile plastered on her face, a smidge of red lipstick on her teeth that he wished he could scrub away. His daughter stood quiet and sullen, her eyebrows full of stormy shadow. Unlike him, she didn’t relish the attention that came with his job. Caroline had her hands on Matilda’s shoulders, almost like she was keeping her in place. The sight soured John’s mood slightly. Would it kill her to smile for once?

John greeted them both with gusto, kissing Caroline on the lips and picking Matilda up to whirl her around. The cameras loved to see it. When he put Matilda down again, she still wasn’t smiling. At ten years old, she should still be a few years off teenage grumps, but that didn’t seem to matter to her. She had a dullness in her gaze that screamed of her ungratefulness. He had given her a perfect childhood, she had never wanted for anything, and yet she stood there with that face on her. Why was it so difficult to get her to see things through his lens? To show her that she was the luckiest girl alive?

John disguised his irritation with a smile that hurt his face. Now, his own hands rested on Matilda’s shoulders. His nails dug into her skin ever so slightly. Just enough to remind her where they were, what was expected of her. At least put on a smile for the cameras, he’d urged her countless times. Those smiles were becoming rarer and rarer.

“Mr. Grace, what can you tell us about what happened in there today?” a reporter shouted out to him. John raised his hand to call for silence and the clamoring among the reporters stopped. He loved that he could make that happen. He loved the respect they gave him. He tightened his grip on his daughter a little more, her delicate collarbones prominent under his fingers.

“Today, we put Ronaldo Pereira in prison for life,” he announced.

“Tomorrow, it’ll be someone else. I dedicate my life to justice because this is what truly matters. This is what keeps America safe. This is how we keep our streets clean, our homes safe, our communities tight. I have been doing this for twenty years, and I hope to do it for another twenty. This is my passion and my duty. One criminal is not enough for me. I won’t stop until they are all where they belong. Until the streets of Washington, DC, are free from the rampant, sick cancer of violence and lawlessness that these men spread.”

The paparazzi ate it up, cameras flashing, He loved talking to them. They watched him with adoration and pride. It was flattering and deserved, he thought. He wasn’t big-headed, he just knew that he worked hard and got results. He deserved to be a hero in their eyes, in everyone’s eyes.

And yet his daughter still looked like she was having the worst day of her life. She had never looked at him the way his fans did. She certainly didn’t see him as her hero. How could she not understand how he made the world a better place for her to live in? It made his stomach roll to know that she didn’t appreciate him. But he couldn’t allow her to ruin this moment. John rolled his shoulders back, his grip on his daughter like iron as he fixed his face in place.

“Smile for the cameras, sweetheart. Today is a good day,” he said.

Now

Olivia’s heart was beating so fast as she stepped over the threshold that she almost felt nauseated. It was like she was stepping into a warzone and not her brand-new home. But she felt so dangerously close to true bliss that her heart could barely take it. After so many years of stress, of turmoil, this slice of heaven was almost too good to be true. She was expecting the rug to be swept out from under her feet at any given moment.

But the house stood still and quiet, still perfect, still hers. Brock followed in behind her, a grin on his face as he slowly turned, taking the whole place in. It felt a little strange to see the place without the previous owner’s, Gloria’s, gorgeous furniture. But when Olivia turned into the living room, the fireplace she fell in love with still stood, the feature wall still bringing warmth and energy to the space. The built-in bookshelves still beckoned to her, ready for her many books to fill the empty space. Her heart began to slow down a little. This wasn’t a dream. This place was hers. Really hers.

“I can hardly believe we got in here so quickly,” Brock said, shaking his head in disbelief. It had only been two months since they’d first viewed the house and put in their offer. Gloria had been eager to get things moving, and the whole sale had gone through without any hiccups at all. After what felt like an eternity of searching for their perfect home in Belle Grove, losing out on multiple properties that they’d liked, their dream home had been theirs the second they stepped foot inside. It really was a dream come true. Olivia wasn’t sure she’d ever truly believe it had happened for them.

For now, they didn’t have any furniture, just their mattress which was being delivered later that day, and their adopted orange cat, Mango, who was sure to settle right in when he realized how many carpets there were for him to dig his claws into. It was definitely a huge upgrade for them all.

“You want some breakfast in our new house?” Brock asked, holding up the takeout bag he’d picked up from The Grove. Olivia smiled. That had been a non-negotiable. The whole process of house-searching had really been a constant negotiation of just how far they could get away from Brock’s beloved diner. They were never going to get as close as living directly above it, of course, but their new home was still walking distance from the Belle Grove institution. “We can open the kitchen doors, sit out on our patio.”

“That sounds dreamy,” Olivia said. She held up her new key ring, which had five keys for them to figure out. It took her several tries to find the one for the back door from the kitchen, but then the door opened up to the sunlit garden, warmth flooding the patio area. She stepped out, her eyes closed as she soaked in the sun.

With no lawn furniture to speak of, they settled down straight on the deck with two takeout cups of coffee and pastries that were still warm from the oven. Brock raised his cup of coffee to Olivia.

“To us. And to our new home.”

Olivia smiled and tapped her cup against his. “To us. And to our home.”

They drank and then picked up their flaky pastries. Olivia couldn’t seem to stop the crumbs of her croissant from scattering across the deck. Brock tutted.

“Look at you, making a mess all over our new garden.”

“It’s literally impossible not to. Look, you’ve got it all over your shirt.”

“Not on the patio, though. No, it’s you that has sullied our new home. Tsk tsk.” He picked up a crumb from the ground, pretended to brush off the dirt, and popped it into his mouth. “Gotta keep it clean.”

Olivia rolled her eyes with a laugh. Brock always found a way to be ridiculous and make her smile. The warmth of his presence was already seeping into their new home. She brushed a few more crumbs onto the patio and stood up.

“Shall we explore a little more?”

“Whatever will please you, m’lady.”

They walked around the empty shell of their new home together hand in hand. Olivia felt a slow, creeping sense of happiness taking over her. Any nerves that she had about their new journey disappeared into nothingness. And as they stood in their new bedroom, looking out over their backyard, she knew that something that had once seemed impossible had happened.

She was at peace.

Brock wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you happy?” he murmured in her ear. She smiled.

“More than I ever thought I could be.”

“That’s a sad statement.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve come out the other end. I can finally be completely happy,” Olivia said softly. Brock held her a little tighter.

“I hate to think of everything you had to go through to get to this point.”

Olivia turned around to look at him. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter anymore. And I’d do it all a thousand times over if it led me back here to you. To this.”

She leaned in to kiss Brock and he deepened the kiss, holding her tight to his body. When they finally pulled apart, Brock was grinning.

“Man, I wish we had our bed here right now.”

Olivia laughed. “Well, I suppose we should be getting house stuff done anyway… the delivery man for the mattress is due soon.”

“What a romance killer. Well, what do you think we should do until then?

“I guess we should go and pick up Mr. Mango before the place is filled with boxes. He’ll want to spend some time exploring.”

“We’ve been here for an hour and you’re already bringing in that carpet-destroying machine. So much for our perfect home.”

Olivia wrapped her arms around Brock with a smile. “I think it’ll add some charm to the place if the carpets are fraying at the corners.”

“You call it charm, I call it an expensive future replacement. It’s a good thing that cat is cute.”

Olivia chuckled. “I’ll go and fetch him. Then our home is truly complete.”

“It was complete the second you stepped through the doors,” Brock said, kissing her again.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Olivia tried to soak up every second of it all, but among the chaos, she knew her memories were slipping by before she could lock them down. Still, they had plenty of time to make memories in this place. After they hauled their new mattress upstairs, Brock and Olivia settled down on it with a glossy furniture catalogue, flipping through their furniture options while Mango stalked suspiciously around the room, chasing new shadows on the walls. He seemed a little anxious of the place, and by the time Olivia and Brock settled down to sleep that evening, he had curled up at the end of the mattress, comforted by their closeness. Olivia fell asleep faster than she ever had before, only waking when the sun was coming up the following morning.

She lay on the mattress on the floor, smiling to herself. Mango sensed she was awake and mewled at her, but even he didn’t seem ready to get up yet. He plonked himself on her chest and Olivia stroked him as she soaked up the morning, trying not to move an inch and scare Mango. The bliss she was experiencing was rare but welcomed. She relished not having to think, not having to worry for a while. There was no active case at work to distract them, so they could just enjoy it for now.

The weekend passed in a peaceful but chaotic manner. There was furniture to order, new house features to figure out, color schemes to decide on. Gloria had left the home in a beautiful state, but Olivia and Brock had both decided that in time, they’d like to put their own stamp on the place. There was a lot to do. But it was the kind of chaos that Olivia could get used to. Even Mango was starting to enjoy himself after an initial suspicion of the place, finding new sun spots around the house to lie in, purring as he sent himself to sleep with a belly full of tuna.

As Monday rolled around, though, Olivia knew that the moment was about to break. She was expecting a juicy case to come up any time soon. It was their pattern. They were still chasing leads about the mysterious secret society that they had uncovered several months before, but things hadn’t moved in some time. They had kept in touch with Emily and Sam to work on the case, having weekly phone calls to put together their findings, but the calls were often short and unproductive. It was driving her quietly insane to have so many questions and no answers, but that was the nature of their work sometimes. She was sure that answers would present themselves when the time was right. There was always a key to every case, she just had to wait until she could find it.

They were drinking coffee on their patio, soaking up the sun, when Olivia’s phone rang. She sighed, not willing to give up her bliss yet, but they couldn’t hide from responsibility forever. She picked up the call.

“Good morning, Hugh.”

Special Agent in Charge Hugh Calvin’s voice was as chipper as ever. “Good morning to you, Olivia! How are you faring in the new house? Settling in well, I hope?”

“It’s perfect,” she replied honestly. “We’re loving it here already. I never want to leave.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And I don’t want to tear you away, truly I don’t. But I do have a case for you, and it is definitely one you’ll be interested in.”

“I’m all ears,” Olivia said, switching from weekend mode to work mode. The switch came easily to her at the best of times, but for once, she wasn’t quite ready to flip the switch.

“Good. Have you heard of John Grace? The US Attorney for the District of Columbia?”

Olivia’s ear perked up at the familiar name.

“I have. A few of our cases have been handled by him, though I’m not sure if I’ve ever officially met him. Is everything okay with him?”

“He’s fine. But his daughter has gone missing. She hasn’t been seen in two days by her college roommate at Yale, but now Mr. Grace has also received a ransom tape. From what I’ve been told, Matilda is a good student, doesn’t drink, keeps her head down, and focuses on her studies. A real academic go-getter, if you get my drift. Your type of girl.”

“A nerd, is what you’re saying,” Olivia replied with a silent chuckle. She had been tagged with the epithet more than a few times in her life. But she wore it with pride, and always had.

“You said it, not me. She also, according to her roommate, isn’t the type to go to places alone, especially at nighttime, which is when she was last seen. It’s apparent now that she’s gone missing, but we know that the kidnapper took her to get under John’s skin.”

“What is the ransom? How much do they want to get her back?”

“That’s the unusual thing about this case. Whoever orchestrated this isn’t asking for money. It might be easier for you to see the tape for yourself and make your own judgments about what it all means. But as you can imagine, this is time sensitive. We don’t want to risk anything happening to Matilda. I want you to get in there, find out as much as you can as quickly as possible, and arrange for negotiations to be made. We want to ensure that Matilda gets out of this unscathed.”

“Of course. We’ll be right on it.”

“You should meet John at his home. He doesn’t want to be in the public eye right now, when the news of her disappearance is likely to bring a lot of attention to him. Especially given the… circumstances of the ransom video.”

“That’s very cryptic, Hugh.”

“You’ll see when you get there and watch the video. I’ll send over his address now. Keep me updated wherever you can, but remember that the clock is ticking.”

“Understood.” Olivia knew how kidnapping cases could quickly go south. It was worse than investigating a murder in some ways, knowing that someone’s life could be snatched away if they made any wrong steps. There was a level of guilt that their actions would carry if anything didn’t go to plan. But Olivia knew that if she and Brock worked as a team, they would figure it out. No one had to get hurt. This could be one of the rare instances in their line of work that didn’t have to involve dead bodies.

John Grace lived in a very nice, very large house, as the people Olivia dealt with so often did. But she was going into this case with a little knowledge about the person they would be helping. Grace had done some incredible work over the years. He was well known and well liked, a rarity when it came to matters of law and order. He was best known for putting away Ronaldo Pereira and other members of his notorious crime family eight years ago, the case which had catapulted him into the national spotlight and got him the job of US Attorney of the District of Columbia.

Olivia had met him in passing a few times, only in larger social events, but never really had a discussion with the man. She admired his work. It wasn’t often she worked on cases for people she already knew, so she was interested to see how it panned out with her own preconceptions.

Olivia had seen his daughter, Matilda, several times too. She was often photographed with him in her younger years, standing solemnly as he posed for photo opportunities. Her photos from high school told much of the same story: while she seemed to brighten up around her friends, it was clear she didn’t have many, and she spent a lot of time reading alone in the library. She had been in the National Honor Society and the photography club in her high school, though Olivia couldn’t find any evidence of her photography in the school yearbook. There was some on the girl’s scant social media page, but there was very little for them to go on there.

She didn’t seem like the sort to get into trouble, a quiet girl who was clearly studious if she had made it to Yale. Olivia wondered how much of her father’s thumb had been on the scale for the application process, and whether she could be considered to have a leg up in the process. Maybe that leg up in life from her father was now affecting her in a negative way. She was sure all would become clear once she started to dig into the details of the case.

“I bet John never expected to be a subject of a crime personally,” Brock remarked as they got out of the car and headed up the driveway to the house.

“It’s awful. I hope he’s holding up okay,” Olivia said. “If we can get this resolved quickly, at least he won’t need to suffer for long.”

“It’s likely that he’s the reason she was targeted, right?” Brock mused. “A high-profile man like him… it does make their family more likely to be of interest to someone wanting a ransom. Especially given that he’s rich.”

“But they’re not asking for money, remember? Hugh said that wasn’t the request in the video.”

“True. I suppose we’re about to find out.”

They had barely rapped on the front door when it opened. John was a man in his late fifties, his hair thick and dark but shot through with gray, much grayer than Olivia remembered. His face wasn’t handsome but it was inviting, a cheeriness about him that remained even in the current circumstances. He offered a grim smile to the pair.

“Olivia and Brock, isn’t it?” John asked as he answered the door, already reaching for their hands to shake. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m worried sick about Matilda.”

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this, I promise,” Olivia said earnestly.

“Please, come inside. I’m ready to get started. I don’t mean to rush you…”

“No, totally understandable. Every second counts, and we want to get your daughter back as soon as possible. Would you mind showing us the ransom video you were sent?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

They stepped inside John’s house. It was light and airy inside, with a very polished feel to the entire place. Olivia glanced into some of the rooms out of interest.

“Is your wife home, John?” she asked. John glanced over his shoulder.

“My wife?”

“Caroline, isn’t it?”

“Ahh. Caroline and I divorced some time ago, back when Matilda was a teenager. I see her from time to time, and she is supportive of my career, but we don’t interact much beyond that.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” Olivia said, feeling a blush on her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to assume, but she often saw the pair of them together in news articles, even if Matilda was no longer present in the photos. She had wrongly assumed that meant that everything was normal between them. They put on a united front, that was for sure.

“That’s okay. We keep it on the down-low. It’s not the sort of thing you want to announce to the world when you’re in the public eye a lot.”

“Totally fair,” Olivia said. She didn’t think she would do well with her life being studied and picked apart by the whole world, especially after some of the things she’d been through. She imagined how hard it would’ve been for her when her sister died, or when her mother went missing. She had been through a lot more than a messy divorce, but she could still see how John’s position made something like that difficult to put in front of a crowd.

“What can you tell us about Matilda?” Brock asked. The walk to John’s office seemed to be taking forever in a house so large. John took a deep breath.

“Well, she’s my pride and joy, of course. She has always been such a curious girl…she’s always been quite serious, quite studious, just like me. She was always the top of her class, always the smartest person in the room. She was set on Yale from the age of twelve. I didn’t even have to try and steer her to my alma mater, she decided on her own. And so off she went, to study psychology. That was last year, and I’ve been so proud of her for taking the leap. It’s getting so much more competitive to get in too, what with all these changing standards, so I knew she had to work hard for it. It wouldn’t hurt her to call her old dad a little more often…but I suppose that’s what going off to college is all about, right? Making your own way in life.”

Olivia and Brock traded glances, just a split-second flick of their eyes, but it was enough for them to clock their thoughts at the same time: Matilda’s admission had almost certainly been due to her father’s legacy at Yale. While that didn’t take away from her own personal accomplishments, what Olivia was interested in was the story John told about it. Whether he was, even now, trying to curate the story for them, to maintain his image the same way he kept his divorce a secret.

At the same time, she hated to even go down that rabbit hole when questioning him. The man was not a suspect. His daughter had been kidnapped, and they hadn’t even seen the ransom video yet. But even at this early stage, these were the details that were important to keep track of in a case like this.

“When was the last time the two of you spoke?” Olivia asked. “Did she seem okay? Not concerned about anything?”

“Ah… it was probably a few weeks ago. Like I said, she doesn’t call that often. I try to give her a little space. I don’t want to crowd her, you know? But she seemed fine. She calls her mom more often, and I get occasional updates. She’s thriving. It’s no wonder she doesn’t want to spend hours on the phone to her old man, right?”

Olivia wavered. It wasn’t that unusual, she supposed. She certainly wasn’t the closest with her father. When her mother went missing, they basically had no contact. He was an unemotional man, and she struggled to connect with him. Was this a case of the same thing? Did John’s illustrious career keep him from staying close with his only daughter?

“Through here,” John said, opening the door to his office and allowing Brock and Olivia to step inside. Olivia was surprised to see that the office had no windows, making the room a lot darker than the rest of the house. She supposed it kept the place private, away from prying eyes. She knew that paparazzi often went to extreme lengths to get a scoop, and they wouldn’t be against spying to get what they wanted. Perhaps that’s why John chose to keep his office away from the eyes of the world, like some sort of cave.

“Not many people come in here,” he admitted, passing by Olivia to unlock his computer. “It’s always been my own private space. Caroline used to hate that I wouldn’t allow her in here, like I was doing something nefarious… I just needed one space in the world that belonged just to me. A place to unwind on my own, you know?”

Olivia nodded as John continued to load up his computer and with it, the ransom video. He took a steadying breath, backing away from the computer.

“See it for yourself,” he said. Olivia stepped forward to press play on the video. On the screen, she recognized Matilda, her eyes wide with fear and her mouth bound with cloth. There were tears streaming down her face.

“You can see that we have your daughter. You will obey our demands if you want to get her home alive,” a voice from behind the camera hissed. They had clearly used some sort of voice changer because the voice sounded almost static, disembodied and alien. Whoever the kidnapper was, they had thought this through before diving in.

“Actions have consequences, John Grace. If you do not do as you are told, Matilda will die. And it won’t end there. We have no interest in your money. We have no desire to take anything from you. What we want is much more simple.”

The camera turned to a large white sheet pinned to a wall. Across it, in blood red lettering, was one single word.

CONFESS.

A shiver ran down Olivia’s spine. This seemed very personal. What was it all about? Who had John slighted enough to make them go to such lengths? A young woman had been kidnapped, and for what? A confession of some sort from a person who wouldn’t even admit who they were?

It didn’t make sense at first glance. John was a man of the law. It was his job to be honest, to stay on the straight and narrow. Was this some criminal who remembered John as the man who put them behind bars, and somehow blamed him for their lot in life? Were they under the delusion that John somehow ruined their future?

But if that was the case, why would they disguise their voice? How was John supposed to know who he was confessing to? Something wasn’t adding up. Olivia turned to John, trying not to show the frown on her face.

“What do you make of this?”

He shook his head in disbelief, chewing his thumb. Olivia could tell that he was very concerned, his body hunched in on itself.

“I just… I have no idea. I don’t know who would want to do something like this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be confessing to. Because if I did, I would confess, of course! I will do whatever it takes to get my daughter back. But they’re asking the impossible of me. I have no idea what they want me to say.”

“I would imagine that you’ve made some enemies in your time, John,” Brock pointed out. “Is there anyone you can think of who would want to see you suffer?”

“I… I just don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that I’ve angered plenty of people in my time. But the only man I can think of… or at least the one who comes to mind first… he’s been behind bars for many years. He’s never getting out of prison.”

“Who are you referring to?” Olivia asked. “You never know, it could be important.”

John took a deep breath in. “Ronaldo Pereira.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “I know of him. A nasty piece of work. He controlled half of the drug trade in Washington. He had crazy operations going on. I remember reading about it in the paper when you put him away.”

“It was one of the proudest days of my life,” John said, raising his chin. “It still is. He was one of the worst men I’ve ever come across in my time. Putting him away was a public service like no other. But the problem is… there are still members of his family out there, I’m sure of it. Operations went much quieter once he went to prison, but cutting off the head of the family doesn’t stop another one from growing back. I have no doubt that they found a way to regroup in the underground without him. One of them could be acting on his orders.”

“And what is it about Ronaldo in particular that makes you suspicious of him?” Brock asked. Olivia scoured her mind.

“I remember what he said to you in the courtroom. It was all over the news,” Olivia said. “He told you to watch your back. He said justice will come for you.”

John nodded, folding his arms around himself. “Yes… I took it as an empty threat. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in the courtroom promised revenge on me. But there was something about the way he spoke to me that day… It felt different from the others. And he was the Big Bad, you understand? He was the biggest case of my career, the same for everyone else involved. My mind went straight to Ronaldo when I got the tape… but it must be someone acting for him.”

“Perhaps if it is him, you’re not the only target of his abuse,” Olivia offered. “The others working the case may have been targeted too. The detectives and other lawyers who made the case. We should look into that, see if there’s any way to link it straight to Ronaldo. It’s a starting point, at least.”

Brock sighed, shaking his head. “It’ll be tricky. Anyone still involved in Ronaldo’s operations will have buried themselves deep underground. Finding them will not be an easy task.”

“We can’t just leave her to the wolves!” John cried out. Olivia put a gentle hand on his arm.

“We won’t. We won’t,” she said gently. “We’ll just need to move quickly. We’ll need to fly up to Yale and see whether anyone there has any information about her disappearance. In the meantime, you need to make a list of anyone who you might have upset with your actions. And you need to tell us everything about the Pereira case, about his entire organization, anyone in the family that might be out there somewhere. Anything that could be a clue to his involvement, we need to know about it.”

“And most importantly… is there anything you have on your mind?” Brock asked. John blinked in surprise.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“John… what comes to mind when someone asks you to confess? Got any buried secrets we need to know about? Because if you do and you don’t do as you’re told… your daughter might die. You understand that, right?”

Olivia shot Brock a look. He wasn’t exactly holding back or being subtle. But John’s expression remained unchanged, nothing unnerved in his face.

“I understand. But I don’t have secrets. I live my life out in the open. Which is why I don’t understand what is being asked of me, from both sides. Do you want me to make something up, cause a public scandal just to be told that I’m not confessing to the right thing? Clearly these people want something in particular from me, but I can’t confess if I don’t know what I’m supposed to confess to.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in distress. “I don’t know. I really don’t… I’m terrified that she might be paying for something I’ve done… but I have absolutely no idea what that thing could be.”

“You’ll need to have a think for us, John. Clearly, they’re looking for something specific from you. It’s the key to understanding why all of this is happening and how to find Matilda,” Olivia said. John wavered for a moment before he nodded.

“Okay. I understand. I’ll keep thinking. I’ll make some notes, write them up for you… you said you’re going to go out to Yale?”

“I think it’s important that we do,” Olivia said with a nod. “We’ll need to look for any evidence of her disappearance, see if any of the campus cameras caught anything. From there, we can start to follow the trail, build up a case.”

“Okay. Thank you for your help. I just want to bring her home,” John said, reaching out to shake Olivia’s hand. She took his hand in hers and gave it a warm shake.

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s safe. I know you’re hoping to keep this quiet, but you might want to speak with your ex-wife. She should know what’s going on. Maybe she might have some insight… and we’ll be sure to speak with her once we get back from Yale.”

“The news might be better coming from you, anyway,” John said. “It should really be a neutral party that she hears it from.”

“Okay. I guess it can wait a day or two. We don’t want to worry her or get people involved that might draw attention to what’s happened,” Olivia said. “But we will swing by on our way back from Yale. We’ll need to see if we can fly out as soon as possible, speak to her professors, her friends, her roommate.”

“You go ahead. I’ll get as much information as I can together,” John said. He pushed past Brock to sit at his desk, already reaching for a posh fountain pen and a pad of paper. Olivia and Brock headed back the way they’d come, navigating the large house as best as they could. Olivia gently closed the front door behind them and they headed down the driveway together.

“He’s not a fan of me,” Brock commented as they walked back to the car. Olivia tsked.

“Well, you did kind of push his buttons.”

“Isn’t our job to push the right buttons? He seemed defensive to me.”

“He did… but then again, he’s being asked to confess to some sort of crime, or to something shameful. He’s being put under a spotlight.”

“Yeah, but why would that rile him up so much if he was innocent?” Brock asked. “I don’t know, there seems to be something fishy going on here. ‘I live my life in the open’? Come on. You know that’s not true.”

“The entire thing is fishy, you’re right. This is a very targeted attack. I feel like John must know something more than he’s saying… but whatever secrets he’s guarding, they’ll come out eventually.”

“Did you notice that he clearly didn’t want to talk to his ex-wife? I’m not sure I buy that things are amicable between them… that she’s ‘supportive of his career.’ I mean, why would she be if they’d gone through some kind of messy divorce?”

“Well, you can’t blame him for not wanting to be the one to announce that he’s the reason their daughter is missing. It doesn’t put him in a good light, does it?”

“Obviously not, but he must have done something to prompt this whole circus. This doesn’t feel like it’s about Matilda at all… she’s just caught up in it because she’s linked to him.”

“The truth will out,” Olivia said. “But until it does, be more careful around him. He’s not used to being the one being investigated. It’ll make this already delicate situation more volatile. We have to tread carefully, build some trust… and then maybe the confessions will start rolling.”

“And if they don’t?”

Olivia swallowed. “Then Matilda’s life may well be in real danger.”

Olivia’s leg was bouncing for the whole ninety-minute flight to Hartford, Connecticut, after which they would take a Bureau-provided vehicle down forty-five minutes to New Haven. She wasn’t nervous about the case, per se. A kidnapping wasn’t anything new, they’d seen it plenty of times before. But knowing a young woman’s life was at stake was always enough to let anxiety and doubt kick in. What if this was the time that they didn’t manage to crack the case? What if Matilda became another missing girl lost to history like so many before her? Olivia could see her in her mind’s eye, her terrified face staring into the camera and silently begging for someone to save her. But for that to happen, they needed one of two things: for Brock and Olivia to figure out where she was being held, or for John to comply with the demands of the kidnapper. But until they knew what he was supposed to confess, that was almost as impossible as finding Matilda with absolutely no evidence, no jumping-off point.

Still, Olivia was hopeful that talking to the people who saw Matilda every day would prove useful. Campus life was close-knit, there had to be someone who had seen her before she disappeared into thin air.

Olivia was straight out of her seat the moment the plane landed, feeling irritable as people slowly filed off the plane. By the time they’d made it through the airport, into their SUV, out of traffic, and into New Haven proper, it was nearly 10 pm. Brock had suggested that they wait until the following morning to talk to anyone, reasoning that her professors would not be available so late, but Olivia at least wanted to speak with Matilda’s roommate. The thought of waiting until morning before they got a single scrap of information was one she couldn’t bear.

They headed straight to the dorms, which loomed over them in historic red brick. Brock let out a low whistle.

“These are probably nicer than our old apartment,” he remarked.

Olivia rolled her eyes at him. “They’re college dorms, Brock. There’s no way they’re that nice.”

“This is Yale, honey. It’s practically Hogwarts! You think all these upper-crust types are sending their kids to little shoebox-sized rooms to subsist on ramen the way we poor state school kids had to?”

She reached over and patted his stomach teasingly. “I’m sure you and your waistline suffered.”

When they arrived to Matilda’s dorm, there was a thin young woman waiting outside, smoking a cigarette. Her t-shirt was cut just above her navel and showed a belly button piercing. Her hair was dyed jet black and she was wearing dark makeup, but it was smudged around her eyes like she had been crying. She looked up as their car arrived and Olivia felt sure from the look in the girl’s eyes that she must be Matilda’s roommate, Hannah Riley. There was a look of pure distress in her eyes that spoke volumes. She was the one who had called in Matilda’s disappearance even before the ransom video showed up. She was the one who had a Matilda-shaped hole in her life, in the room they shared.

Olivia didn’t want to judge, but Hannah wasn’t what she was expecting when they showed up there. After all, from what she knew of Matilda, she was quiet, studious, serious. The woman waiting for them seemed alternative, the type to stand out from the crowd, brave in her choices. They seemed an unlikely pair. But then again. Olivia knew that college roommates didn’t choose one another in their first year. And there were more unlikely friendships, she supposed.

As she got out of the car, she heard Hannah sniff, dropping her cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out. She wrapped her arms around herself defensively as Olivia and Brock approached.

“You’re here about Til?” Hannah asked. Olivia nodded.

“Yes. We’re with the FBI.” She showed her badge to Hannah, hoping it might put her a little more at ease. It seemed to, showing their credentials. “I’m Olivia, and this is Brock. You must be Hannah.”

“That’s me,” Hannah said. “Come inside. You can take a look around, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said, following the young girl inside. There was a vulnerability to Hannah that told Olivia how broken she was by Matilda’s disappearance. “Are you and Matilda close?”

“Super close,” Hannah said with a sniff. “Everyone says we’re a strange pair… people take one look at us both and assume we have nothing in common. But we like the same music, we both take our classes seriously… she’s kind of been my rock since I came here. I got so homesick when we arrived… but she convinced me to stay. We stuck together and got through the first few weeks when it felt impossible to make friends, to keep up with everything, to make a life in a new place with all these people. And even though we’ve made other friends and expanded our lives… I don’t know. You can’t replace what we made in that first week. So yes, she’s a good friend of mine. I’m terrified I’m never going to see her again.”

“We’re going to bring her home,” Olivia assured her. “Anything you can tell us about her, about her schedule, about the night she disappeared… it’s all useful.”

“I’ll do everything I can to be helpful. This is us.”

Hannah gestured toward a door and let them inside the dorm room. It was a room of two distinct halves. One side–Matilda’s, presumably–was fairly sparse, with no decor on the walls and a neatly made single bed. The other was covered in dark posters of emo bands, every inch of the wall taken up with personality. Glancing at Matilda’s side, there was no obvious way to glean anything about who she was as a person. Olivia glanced around hopefully for some evidence of her supposed photography hobby, but found nothing. She stared at the girl’s bed, wondering how it was possible for someone to make such a casual stamp on the world that they were almost devoid of a personal footprint. The only thing on her nightstand was a Bible that looked like it had never been touched.

“She wouldn’t mind you looking through her stuff,” Hannah prompted. “She always said I was allowed to share anything of hers… but she didn’t really have much.”

“Is this how her side always is?” Brock asked. “There’s nothing missing?”

“Not that I could tell. It’s pretty much always like this,” Hannah said. “It was weird… the first day we moved in, everyone came with parents in tow, with all sorts of childhood memories in boxes, all their old stuff from home… she came alone. She had just one box with her and she drove herself. I remember thinking how cool that was… she’s got this air about her that she just understands the world. I mean, I suppose her past made her grow up fast.”

“Her past?” Olivia asked. Hannah nodded.

“Losing her father so young… that’s got to have an impact on you, right?”

Olivia tried to process what Hannah was saying, but it just wasn’t computing to her.

“Hannah… Matilda’s father is alive and well. He’s a well-known criminal prosecutor in Washington, DC. Did she… did she tell you that he died?”

Hannah’s mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to process what she was being told.

“She… she said he died when she was thirteen. That she’d lived with just her mom ever since. Why would she lie about something like that?”

Why indeed, Olivia thought. There were a few reasons she could think of with almost understandable thought behind it. Maybe Matilda didn’t want to be accused of nepotism, of only getting to Yale because of the success of her father. Perhaps that was as well why she had registered for the university under her mother’s maiden name, Bennett. Maybe it was her way of getting a clean slate, of standing on her own two feet as an adult. Maybe that’s why she came alone to college too.

But what if it was something more than that? John said that he and Matilda didn’t talk as much as he liked. What if there was a deeper reason why? Did Matilda really think so poorly of her father that she couldn’t bear to be associated with him? So much so that she would rather say that he was dead than admit they were related?

And if so, then why?

“I don’t understand it. I didn’t think Til had any secrets from me,” Hannah said, tears in her eyes. “That’s a pretty big thing to lie about.”

“She must have had her reasons,” Brock said gently. “We don’t know much yet. Maybe she did it for self-preservation.”

“But it’s weird. A really weird thing to lie about. She could’ve just told me that she doesn’t have a relationship with her dad. But she said he was dead. And we talked at length about it. How she feels like she missed a whole life that she was supposed to have with him. How much it affected her growing up without a dad…man, this is actually messed up. She bare-faced lied to me!”

Olivia chewed on what Hannah was saying for a moment. Maybe to Matilda, everything she was saying felt true. Maybe it did feel like she was growing up without a dad. She knew what it was like to have a career-oriented parent who couldn’t see their family through the lens of their work. She knew how isolating that could feel. But for Matilda, it could’ve been more than that. She was an only child. At least Olivia had had her sister growing up. Maybe quiet, studious Matilda had nowhere to turn. Maybe she felt so strongly about it after coming out of the other side that it felt easier to claim her father was dead than try to explain their relationship. Maybe it was preferable to have no dad at all than to have an absent one.

“Don’t be too hard on her. It sounds like she came from a broken home,” Brock said. “I know it’s hard when you’ve been lied to… but maybe when she comes back, she can explain herself to you. You’re being a good friend by helping us out. You still want her to come home, right?”

“Of course!” Hannah exclaimed indignantly, wiping at her eyes again. “I still care, I’m just mad at her.”

“Then maybe you can tell us what else you know about her. Because the way her father tells it, she was quiet, scholarly, kept to herself. Is that the Matilda you know?”

Hannah wavered. “I mean…yes and no. She’s quiet until you get to know her. She cares a lot about her studies, but she likes to party too. And it’s hard to say she kept to herself when she was an open book to me… but now I’m wondering, how much of that was lies? I feel like I’m taking apart a completed puzzle and now the pieces are changing. I can’t piece her back together as she was.” Hannah shook her head. “Can I take a minute? You can take a look around until I’m back, maybe?”

“Sure. Take your time,” Olivia said. Hannah pulled another cigarette out of her pocket and put it between her lips, already lighting it up as she left the room with a big sigh.

“Poor girl,” Brock said. “I bet she never expected to be caught up in all of this.”

“Matilda really pulled the wool over her eyes,” Olivia agreed. “But by the sounds of things, Matilda lied because she didn’t want to admit the truth about life at home. I think John lied about his relationship with her. It sounds like they’re completely estranged, or else why would she lie about him, or come all this way all alone? I bet if we check his phone, there won’t be any evidence of these calls he claimed to have with her a few weeks ago. He probably thought we’d take him at his word because we’re supposed to be able to trust him.”

“And if he’s lied about it, then why? I mean I suppose it doesn’t look good that he’s being directly targeted in his daughter’s kidnapping case. Is there something he has to confess related to her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine right now. All we know for sure is that Matilda went to lengths to not be associated with him. So maybe there’s something in this room that can tell us why that would be. Maybe she kept a diary?”

But after searching every inch of her little nook of the bedroom, they came up blank. Matilda was certainly minimalistic. There was almost nothing personal among her things, save for a single photograph of her and her mother. There was no trace of John, but that made sense if they didn’t have any sort of positive relationship. They checked everywhere, including under the mattress, around the bedframe. Olivia hoped that maybe they’d find some kind of secret hiding spot for Matilda’s more personal articles, the things she intended to keep hidden. But by the time Hannah returned, they were no closer to knowing anything about Matilda than before she left.

“I still can’t believe it,” Hannah said, sitting back down on her bed. “I really felt like she and I knew each other inside and out. She’s got this whole father living life out there.”

“Hannah… if you could take a guess, what would make Matilda lie about that? As someone who knew her better than we do,” Brock asked. Hannah wrinkled her nose.

“I never thought of her as the kind of person who lied. But I guess I should’ve known something wasn’t right. She never goes home during the holidays. She takes her personal calls away from the dorm, but they’re few and far between. She’s talked about her future here, about moving out here permanently when she’s done studying. I guess… I guess if she had this big lie to cover up, then maybe she really was just protecting herself. Trying to make sure she never had to go back to whatever made her lie in the first place.”

Olivia gently sat down on Matilda’s bed, feeling uncomfortably out of place.

“When she talked about her father… how did she describe him? Their relationship?”

Hannah took a deep breath. “She… she always said he was perfect. The best dad in the world. She said he was the breadwinner, but he always made sure he had time for her after work. She talked about having a normal upbringing otherwise. She liked being an only child. Her dad made her feel like she was the center of the universe. But I guess maybe none of that was true. I think she was describing who she wished her dad was, instead of the deadbeat who clearly made her feel so lost and alone that she had to fictionalize him.”

Olivia was beginning to see a window into Matilda’s soul. She was a lonely young girl who felt abandoned by her father, a man too busy to see her, to bother with her much at all. As soon as she was given the chance, she’d decided to go and make a new life for herself, far enough away from her father that no one knew who either of them were and she could rewrite the story of her life herself. She had fabricated a lie to better fit her new persona: a dead father who had been perfect, had given her the childhood she deserved, but had been tragically ripped away before she had a chance to appreciate him. It was like she was creating an excuse to feel so broken by his absence from her life, instead of accepting that he just didn’t care enough about her. It all made perfect sense.

Except that it didn’t match up to what John had told them.

Olivia decided to put John and Matilda’s relationship on the shelf for a moment. They still didn’t know the ins and outs of how Matilda had gone missing in the first place. She cleared her throat.

“We’ll come back to her dad. We just need to ask some questions about her actual disappearance. Can you tell us about the last time you saw her? And then when you noticed she had disappeared?”

Hannah scooted up to the wall, hugging her knees.

“Sure… I saw her two days ago in the morning. We chatted over breakfast. I asked her if she wanted to go out to a local show that evening, but she reminded me that she goes to an evening club on Saturdays.”

“What sort of club?”

“She said it’s like a club for people who like mysteries… it’s not associated with Yale, she just found out about it locally. It sounded kind of lame, if I’m honest. They do trips to escape rooms, do those ‘solve your own murder’ things that you can order in the mail and murder mystery dinners… all that jazz. She asked me if I wanted to go a few times, but it’s not my scene. She always went every Saturday night without fail. It was kind of annoying, it meant we couldn’t make weekend plans properly. But she was adamant about never missing one so I respected that. And so we spent the morning together and then went our separate ways around one-thirty in the afternoon. She usually got back late from the mystery club, around 10 pm, but I went to the show, so I didn’t arrive back until midnight. And when I came home, she wasn’t there. And I immediately freaked out… she’s never stayed out late before, and definitely not without forewarning me. I tried to call her and then I noticed that her phone was still here. And that’s when I really freaked. She’s smarter than that. It made me feel like something had happened. So I contacted campus security. They went looking for her but didn’t find a trace of her. The security cameras around our dorm were vandalized last week and they haven’t gotten around to fixing them yet, so there was no video footage of her comings and goings.”

“That’s weird,” Brock said, looking at Olivia. “That the cameras were conveniently out of commission… sounds like someone planned this way in advance.”

“Do you… do you think someone was watching her this whole time? Am I safe?” Hannah asked.

“You’re safe,” Olivia assured her. “Matilda’s disappearance is definitely to do with her family. A ransom video was sent to her father, asking him to confess to something. Like he has a secret to hide.”

“Sounds like it’s a family full of liars then,” Hannah grumbled. Then she paused, looking guilty. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s okay. This has been a lot for you,” Olivia said. She could both relate to and sympathize with Hannah. She saw something of her past self in her. But a bigger part of her related to Matilda, the missing girl who clearly had a whole slew of sad baggage dragged along with her.

Hannah shrunk further into herself, sniffing again.

“I just can’t believe this whole thing. What do you think he has to confess?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “But the more we learn about Matilda, the more we learn about her relationship to him… something wasn’t right there. But I don’t know why the kidnapper would want him to confess to being a bad father, if that’s what’s going on here… and I don’t suppose you can help us out with that, considering that you thought he was dead.”

“Well, yeah… and if that’s the case, why did she speak so highly of him? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Seems like maybe she was creating a fictional man who was a better father to her,” Brock said. “And if that’s the case… maybe there’s some really deep trauma there. But this is all speculation. We need to find out more.”

“You should talk to Professor Howard,” Hannah said suddenly. “Til likes her… they’ve actually become really close.”

“She’s close with her professors?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but the professors get really involved here. They pretty much dedicate all of their time to the job. Matilda has been attending Professor Howard’s office hours since the start, and I think they’ve been out for drinks together a few times. She’s relatively young, so I think she sees her as the big sister she never had. Given that Matilda clearly has some issues… if she was going to open up more honestly to anyone, I think it would be her. After all, she’s a psychology professor. She probably saw Matilda coming from a mile off.”

“That’s really helpful. Thank you, Hannah. Anything else that might be useful or should we leave you to it?”

“I think that’s all. Can I call you if I think of anything else? I really want to help any way that I can.”

“Of course you can,” Olivia said with a gentle smile, handing her a card.

“And will you let me know the second she’s safe? I haven’t been able to sleep worrying about her.”

“Absolutely. We’ll be in touch as soon as we can.”

Olivia and Brock left the dorms just before 11:30. Brock slipped his hand into Olivia’s, glancing around the area.

“I wish we knew more about how she was taken. The cameras being tampered with… that’s a big deal. Campus security should’ve done something about that sooner.”

“It’s bad. But she could’ve been snatched anywhere on campus. We’re assuming it was close to the dorms.” Olivia stopped when she spotted a security camera. The lens was completely blacked out. It was high up, so Olivia wondered how someone had gotten away with inching up there to black out the camera. Multiple times, too. Perhaps they did it in the middle of the night. Perhaps they had help. But surely there had to be a witness who had seen it happen to at least one of the cameras?

“Tomorrow morning, we need to go straight to security, see what they’ve figured out. Not much by the looks of things, but if they have any footage of the vandalism, we need to see it,” Olivia said. “And maybe they have witnesses who saw it happen. This isn’t just a vandalism incident anymore. It could definitely be related to the kidnapping. It’s way too convenient for the timing. And once we’re done there, we’ll hunt down Professor Howard and some of her friends.”

“And then we need to get back and talk to her mother… I hope we have more to go on by the time we visit her. I would hate to go to her empty handed.”

“There’s got to be something here,” Olivia said firmly. “Someone will know something. We just have to hope people are willing to spill what they know.”

It had just turned 8 am when Olivia and Brock showed up at the campus security office, both of them stifling yawns. Olivia hadn’t slept well, and definitely not for long enough. She had laid awake for quite some time, turning the details they had about the case over in her mind. But the insomnia that often came hand in hand with working a case didn’t bother her so much anymore. She was used to running on empty and replacing sleep with subpar coffee. Maybe there would come a day where it overwhelmed her, but she could manage it well enough. It was also worth it if they could find Matilda.

Matilda had been on her mind all night. She pictured being twenty, barely acquainted with the adult world and the newfound freedom that came with going to college. And now, all the trust she had found with her new life had been ripped away in an instant. Olivia wondered if Matilda was scared, if she had regrets, if she wished she had done things differently. She wondered if Matilda was thinking about Hannah and the lies she had told her. And most of all, she wondered how Matilda was looking back on her relationship with her father in retrospect. Was he really dead to her all along? Was their relationship really so beyond repair that she couldn’t bear to think of him being alive? To tell all of her friends that he was dead seemed so extreme. Olivia knew they must be missing some part of the puzzle. She wasn’t sure who the liar was: John or Matilda. But one of them was exaggerating the state of their relationship, for better or for worse.

For John’s sake, she hoped that he wasn’t lying to them. If he was, then it might mean that finding Matilda became even more difficult. It was in his hands to find Matilda; more than anything in this case, they needed his honesty. Lies could get Matilda killed.

Olivia wasn’t hopeful about their visit to the security office. Without the security cameras, she was sure any testimonies from the staff now would be minimal, but she knocked on the door regardless and waited. A sleepy-looking man appeared several moments later, blinking in surprise at the sight of his two guests.

“May I help you?” he asked, stifling a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just about to finish the night shift. We don’t get many visitors at this time of day.”

“We’re with the FBI,” Olivia said, presenting her badge as proof. “We’re investigating the missing girl from campus.”

“Right, of course. Please come in. I wasn’t on shift that day, but Sheila was. She might be the one to talk to.”

Olivia and Brock stepped inside and looked around the small building. There was a set of at least twenty screens, but they were all switched off, presumably because of the vandalized cameras. There was a stout blonde woman standing by a coffee dispenser, sipping a sludgy-looking coffee.

“You must be Sheila,” Olivia said. The woman nodded, sipping her drink.

“That’s me. Look, if you’re here about Matilda Bennett, I’ve got nothing to tell you that I haven’t already told the police. Me and my staff didn’t see a thing because of the issue with the cameras. I’ve been trying to get someone to come and fix them already, but I’ve had no luck. I tried going up there myself and scrubbing the cameras, but they used some kind of indestructible paint. It’s not coming off. And so the night of Matilda’s disappearance, I had all of my team patrolling the grounds instead. We usually have a few people here and a bunch patrolling, but we have blind spots without the cameras, you know? And if we do miss something while we’re walking around, then we can’t refer to the footage afterwards to help us. It’s infuriating that this happened just before Matilda went missing, but who knows, maybe that was deliberate.”

“We think it must have been. It’s too convenient in the timing for it to be a coincidence,” Brock said. “And you didn’t see anything on your patrol?”

“We walked around all damn night and still didn’t see a thing, didn’t hear anything, didn’t even know about Matilda going missing until the following day. All we saw were a couple of drunk kids heading back to their dorms, but nothing unusual. We had too much ground to cover. One of my guys was stationed out by the dorms, but he didn’t see anything unusual. We didn’t have a single report that night of anything being amiss. It was only later that we heard from the roommate, what’s her name? Heather?”

“Hannah,” Olivia supplied with a sigh. It was what she had expected, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Whoever had taken Matilda was well prepared, ensuring that they could make a getaway without anyone noticing.

“And what about the kids who vandalized the cameras? Any leads there?”

Sheila shook her head. “We had the police here reviewing the tapes of what happened. As it was taking place, there was another incident on campus. A fight in one of the dorms. The two boys involved swear they had no involvement with the setup to vandalize the cameras, though we think it was a distraction to allow the others to have time to do it. They were quick, managing to hit all of the cameras in the space of the half an hour we were called out for the other incident. There must have been a whole crew involved because they managed to hit multiple cameras at once. But since they had their faces completely covered, we have little to go on from. The footage is black and white so we can’t even determine eye color, and that’s the only visible features we can determine from the videos. We didn’t think it was a big deal, really, just a typical case of vandalism, maybe even some sort of initiation for a frat or something. We’ve seen crazier stunts over the years. So we thought it was just another prank. Until that girl went missing a few days later.”

Sheila shuddered and drank from her coffee cup.

“I dread to think how the whole thing was coordinated… if you ask me, it had to be someone on campus who was involved. Or someone who has been here before. Which means trouble is still close by. I swear to you, I haven’t slept a wink since Matilda went missing. I keep thinking I spot her in the crowds. The poor girl is out there somewhere, all alone. On my watch. And now the administration is breathing down my neck both to solve it, and to keep it quiet. As if I have the resources to do either one. I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“You’ve done everything you can. It’s not your fault,” Brock said sympathetically.

“We didn’t expect much coming here, to be honest. If there was something to tell, you would’ve said something by now.”

“I wish I could be more helpful,” Sheila said, draining her cup and throwing it in the trash. “But if I find anything, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll keep working at it until we bring that girl home.”

Sheila remained on Olivia’s mind as they explored the campus, looking for the psychology classrooms where Matilda spent most of her days. Olivia knew that Sheila must be carrying a lot of guilt in her position. The poor woman had clearly been put through the wringer with the whole ordeal, both from her bosses and herself. Olivia often met people who felt that they could’ve done more, who felt they were responsible for something out of their hands, but Sheila stuck with her a little longer than most. There was a genuine grief in her response to the whole thing.

Matilda had clearly made an impression on the campus with her disappearance, even the people who didn’t know her personally. It was one of those cases where Olivia actually believed it entirely when people said that Matilda was the type to light up a room. Maybe too long in the Bureau had made her cynical, but when a true victim showed up, it had a ripple effect on the community that usually surrounded them. Matilda was one of those people. It made Olivia all the more determined that they wouldn’t walk away from this case without a win. She wanted Matilda to come back to this place that she loved, a place that seemed to love her back.

There was a strange feeling as they walked through the historic tree-lined campus, passing lecture halls and study rooms. Olivia could hear whispers about Matilda as they passed by, and her face was on every notice board that they passed. Has anyone seen Matilda? the posters asked, a photo of her grinning at the camera making Olivia’s heart sink. She was haunting the space, her name the word on everyone’s lips. It made a shiver pass down Olivia’s spine. The sooner they figured out who had taken her and why, the better.

They finally found the place they were looking for: the psychology lecture hall. They entered at the top of the room, looking down at the empty lecture podium. There was a class just ending, students flooding out through the door at the base of the room. From the top of the auditorium, Olivia observed a young woman scrawling notes onto a whiteboard. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, a petite woman with a slim waist, but she dressed like she was older. She wore a white shirt tucked into a long tartan skirt, a bolo tie tucked into her collar. She had wide-framed brown glasses and a little acne on her face. Her sandy blonde hair fell straight and long right down to the waistband of her skirt. She wasn’t what Olivia had been expecting at all, but then again, Hannah had said that she and Matilda were fairly close, that they spent a lot of time together. Knowing now that she was a young woman made that make more sense. Olivia nodded to Brock and they descended the stairs to approach her. The professor glanced up, looking surprised to have company. She shifted her glasses up her nose a little anxiously.

“Hi. You’re the psychology professor, right? Bridget Howard?” Olivia said. She still felt a little uncertain–she looked far too young to be teaching the class–but the woman nodded and smiled, stepping toward them with an outstretched hand.

“Well, adjunct, really. Hi. Everyone calls me Bridge,” she said, shaking both of their hands.

“I know you’re here about Matilda. I was… so sorry to hear about her disappearance. She’s one of my best students. Always so involved in class, always taking an interest and asking intelligent questions. She belongs right here.”

“We hope to bring her home,” Olivia said. “But we need to speak to the people that knew her best. Matilda’s roommate said we should talk to you… that you and her were on good terms.”

Bridge pushed her glasses up her nose, blinking several times. “Well, certainly, I know her quite well after teaching her for a few months. But I have so many students… Matilda is one of many in that respect.”

“But does Matilda stand out in any way?” Olivia asked. “Her friend said that your relationship went beyond the classroom.”

Bridge looked a little nervous at the insinuation. “Well, I guess you could say that…we have open office hours here and Matilda has used them quite a lot since joining the course. More than most of my students, I would venture to say. The students here are all dedicated, but many prefer to get out into the world and conduct their own research, so they only come to us if they need a little more guidance on their subject matter, or for explaining the curriculum. Matilda was more interested in open discussion. I think she was just so passionate that she felt the need to have someone to soundboard her ideas with. That’s why we ended up spending a little more time together outside of classes. I’m sure she had plenty of friends of her own and didn’t really need to be hanging around with me… but she kept coming back.”

“And you didn’t think it was unusual to be close with a student in that manner?” Olivia asked. Bridge’s discomfort was obvious. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Well, hardly. We’re not exactly worlds apart. I’m far and away the youngest faculty in the department, and I know that makes me more approachable to a lot of students. Matilda included. And I’m not sure about us being described as close… I suppose she might have thought of me as one of her peers. Yes, I’m her teacher, but I do believe that she treated me with a different kind of respect. It felt natural to talk with her, though it was only on an academic level, hardly personal. I like her, a lot. She’s an interesting girl. But I wouldn’t define us as close. Our connection was more to do with psychology, and also a deep interest of Matilda’s.”

“A deep interest?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow. “What was that then?”

“It was a book. An old one, at that. Have you heard of Dante’s The Divine Comedy?”

“I’ve heard of it… can’t say I know much about the subject,” Brock said, but Olivia was simultaneously nodding.

“I’ve read it, a long time ago. It was quite a difficult book, but a fascinating one,” Olivia said. Bridge smiled, nodding.

“So you understand why it’s a book that sparks discussion. Of course, Inferno is the most widely discussed part of the poem, and yet there’s so much to it.”

“So it was an interest of yours too, not just Matilda’s?”

“Well, I suppose that’s true, yes, but I never brought it up. Dante’s Divine Comedy has always been an interesting book to me, but it’s not on the curriculum, so I was surprised when Matilda brought it up to me. Really should have been more for a classical literature class or something, not psych. But she seemed really eager to talk about it, to analyze it. And once she started talking to me about it, seeing that I had a similar interest, she just couldn’t seem to stop. She wanted to talk about it more and more. I’ll admit, I can’t help myself when I meet a passionate student… I feel the need to take them under my wing. I thought she would appreciate the listening ear. I’m not sure anyone else she knew was interested in discussing the topic. I put up notices for a book club where other students could come and discuss it with us, trying to branch away from our one-on-one meetings, but it ended up just being me and her. And we became… well, not close, of course. She’s my student, so that wouldn’t be right. But we had such a passion for the text that it was an undeniable connection that we formed. We went for coffee several times, diving deep into what it all means, what it represents. The idea of heaven, of hell, of purgatory and everything in between. I’ve never met a student so impassioned, not during my time as a student or a professor. It was hard to resist the pull of such a passionate and focused woman.”

“And what did she take from it all?” Olivia pressed.

“Well… nothing revolutionary at first. She talked about human emotion a lot. I get the sense that she related most to the section on the Inferno. She talked about the allegories for depression and trauma a lot. I suppose that stuck with me. She never talked about herself, but I can only guess that it interested her because she related to it. That’s so often the way with the passions that find us. Something about the text must have given her comfort, given her understanding of her own life. And then there’s the punishments of the Inferno. She talked about how we as humans tend to self-destruct and bring on our own doom through our actions. I wanted to ask her what that meant to her. Whether she felt she was deserving of some kind of punishment, or whether she felt it applied to someone else in her life. But she never opened up and it didn’t feel appropriate to ask her about it all. I understood that there had to remain some kind of boundary with me being her teacher, though I wished I could see into her mind and understand what was hurting her… I felt compelled to help. I see it a fair amount in the students who come to study psychology. They come to unpack the human mind so that they might understand themselves someday, or understand the people around them, figure out why they act the way they do. It’s a process that I can’t interfere with in order to stay professional, but I did keep an eye on her. I care about her, even just in a professional capacity and on a basic human level.”

“So you wouldn’t describe yourself as her friend?” Olivia asked. She was still struggling a little to get her head around their relationship, given the power dynamic between a student and teacher. It didn’t often end well to have that kind of gap between two people. But Bridge shook her head.

“No. Like I said, there was no personal element to our discussions. She was there to talk Dante, Dante and more Dante. And as I mentioned, she never delved into what it meant personally to her. But we did meet at least once a week to talk about it, at least for an hour and usually over coffee. I confess now that maybe it wasn’t appropriate. But… in all honesty, I’ve been a little lonely since I started working at Yale. I’m much younger than the vast majority of the other faculty, and I find we don’t really have much in common. Try as I might, I just don’t fit in there. So it was nice to have someone to talk to… even if it was only to discuss one topic over and over. And we really did get into it. We exhausted every subject we could about the text, but she didn’t stop there. She wrote an absolutely fascinating paper that took our discussions and applied them to areas of psychology that we have studied in class. It wasn’t an assignment or anything, she just wanted to do it. She gave it to me to read, of course. I think… I think she was a young woman who needed approval. Like she’d been waiting her whole life for it. I was happy to provide her with that, she deserved it. She’s a very bright girl. Troubled, I imagine, but very bright.” She paused, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“I hope she’s found. I hope she’ll be okay. It doesn’t bear thinking about any other possibility.”

“Did she… did she ever mention anyone in her life? Anyone that you can imagine might want to hurt her? Or someone that could’ve fed this trauma you sensed in her?” Olivia asked. Bridge shook her head.

“I didn’t really know her like that. I swear, it wasn’t like that at all, though I know you have to ask. I enjoyed her company… but I could see myself through her lens. I was a sounding board to her, someone to bounce ideas off. I guess that’s how many students see their professors; we’re just academic machines to them. But I never really got to know who she was, and we never discussed anything personal. Because this didn’t feel like it was a hobby to her, or a casual interest. She was… obsessed. It was the kind of thing I imagined kept her up at night, her imagination running wild, her ideas overflowing. I know because I was like that once. It was never a normal interest I had in Dante’s Divine Comedy either. I got over it eventually, of course, but that’s why I knew I needed to look out for Matilda. I saw my younger self in her. Too clever for her own good, too introspective to ever leave it alone.”

Bridge took off her glasses and pinched the top of her nose. “I shouldn’t have encouraged it. I should have told her to go out and live her life. But it was like there was something consuming her from the inside out. I think she just had to allow it to play out. But maybe she wasted her time. Her life, maybe.” She took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. I’m worried. Really worried. I don’t know what it all means.”

“That’s for us to figure out, not you,” Brock said. “You’ve been helpful, I promise.”

But Bridge didn’t look very reassured by the comment. Tears welled in her eyes and she delicately tried to dam them by placing a finger under each of her eyes.

“Do you think I missed something? In all those things she told me… did I miss some cry for help?”

“I don’t think so. Not in regards to this, at least,” Olivia said.

“And even if there was some kind of cry for help, it must be unrelated. This is a kidnapping, not just a disappearance. If she had seen it coming, she would’ve told someone. This stuff with Dante… it’s just a young woman finding her passion. And yes, some of it is a little dark, a little unusual, maybe… but I don’t think that tells us anything.”

Bridge sniffed. “Well, I’m sure the two of you know what you’re talking about. After all, this is your job. I guess I just wonder whether I’ve failed at mine. I feel protective of my students, and Matilda… well, she was different from the others. I think she needed me in some way. I never intended for it to go so far. I hope you don’t think it is inappropriate. I didn’t think I was crossing any boundaries in particular, but… maybe I was wrong.”

Olivia wasn’t sure what to think of this relationship Matilda had formed with her professor. On one hand, Bridge was only a young woman herself, and perhaps Matilda saw something she sorely needed in Bridge: companionship.

And if things hadn’t been great back home before Matilda came to Yale, then perhaps she really did need someone older and wiser to take her under their wing, an older sister kind of figure that she may have been missing her whole life. Maybe that might have been enough for her to replace whatever had been absent in her relationship with her father.

On the other hand, it wasn’t typical for a student to latch on to their teacher so much. The closeness between Matilda and Bridge could certainly be viewed as inappropriate, or at the very least uncomfortable.

It felt like Bridge cared about Matilda, and Olivia wasn’t quite cynical enough to believe that had to be something negative.

But they had to look for the unusual, and Olivia wondered if maybe Matilda’s obsession with Dante wasn’t the only obsession present. Did Bridge obsess over Matilda while she was busy poring over the text they shared a love of? Was there something more sinister to this relationship where the power was always going to be imbalanced?

“Thank you, Bridge. We may be in touch if we feel we need to chat again,” Olivia said, shaking Bridge’s hand. The woman shook back earnestly with an enthusiastic nod.

“Yes, please do. Any way that I can help…I want to. I just want to see her come home.”

“Don’t worry. We’re on the same page there,” Brock said, also shaking her hand.

Olivia and Brock left together and as they walked through the corridors, Olivia waited for Brock to say something that might back up her suspicion, but he didn’t. He glanced over his shoulder as they were heading back outside.

“Poor woman. She’s clearly gotten a little too invested in her students. I guess at her age she barely sees the difference between them and herself. They’re more like friends than they are students.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know. I had young teachers at school…”

“School isn’t the same. You were still a kid then. Once you get to college level, you’re an adult. Bridge can’t be more than four or five years older than the students here. She can still relate to their college experiences, still remember all the trials and tribulations of it all. It’s not so strange that she’s kind of on the same wavelength as them. Which is probably exactly how Matilda feels about her.”

“But this isn’t just a friendship. Bridge isn’t their peer, she’s their superior. Getting close with the students like that… and particularly just one student who just happens to have gone missing…”

“You think she’s involved?”

“I don’t know, Brock. Maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. But it doesn’t make me feel totally comfortable. Something feels amiss there.”

“Well, I guess we don’t want to rule out anything that could be important. But in this case, I do think she’s innocent.”

“They always are until they’re proven guilty,” Olivia pointed out.

“But isn’t this more about Matilda’s father than it is about her?” Brock argued, raising an eyebrow. “He’s the one who has been told to confess. How do we link that to some adjunct professor that he’s likely never heard of? If Matilda doesn’t speak to him often or at all, then Bridge isn’t likely someone that John is even aware of. After all, Matilda has been pretending that John is dead to almost everyone she knows. I’m sure he doesn’t know much about her life here.”

Olivia rubbed at her neck. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I guess I’m just trying to look down every avenue. I don’t like this case, Brock. Something feels really wrong. There’s definitely a huge piece of the puzzle that we’re missing.”

“There always is until there isn’t,” Brock said, pulling Olivia to him by her hip and kissing her cheek. “Don’t panic. The kidnapper hasn’t put us under too much pressure yet. No time limits, no obvious signs that they’re going to kill Matilda…”

“Apart from the fact that they said they would.”

“Ah, yes, but you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“They have something that John wants… but they don’t yet have what they want. They have the advantage and the leverage, but killing Matilda won’t do a thing for them. If it’s a confession that they want from John, then they need Matilda alive. No, my guess would be that if John doesn’t comply with them that they have something damaging to manipulate him with. Something further than killing her outright.”

“Something he deems worse than the death of his daughter? What could that possibly be?”

Brock shook his head. “Time will tell, I suppose.”

“Is this really necessary?” Olivia asked as she changed into a pair of jeans and the least professional top she could find in her limited luggage: an old white vest top that always seemed to be buried at the bottom of her go-bag. It clung to her in a way that made her feel far too exposed, already missing her crisp white shirts that she often wore to work. She still didn’t think she could pass for twenty-one, as much as she would like to for the purpose of that evening’s mission. “I really don’t think going to a college party should be at the top of our priority list…”

“You’re forgetting that we are doing this for a good reason. You want to talk to Matilda’s friends, don’t you?” Brock said, fiddling with the collar of a polo shirt that had seen better days. Olivia had always thought how handsome Brock was, even before they were an item, but looking at him now, she realized that he was so handsome that all the college girls might mistake him for a player on the football team, even in his scruffy polo shirt. “This is our last stop before we head back, so I think we have to make the most of it. Hannah was helpful and pretty open with us, but there might be others who know things that she doesn’t. I mean, Hannah did say that she likes to party, which was kind of news to me, given everything else that we’ve heard about her. So maybe these other friends will have a different insight into her life. There aren’t enough hours in the day to talk to everyone… so into the good night we must go. Hence the party. Plus, it’s a good way to find everyone in one place. Hannah can point out important characters to us. Simple! It’ll be a lucrative evening.”

“Still, I’m not exactly thrilled about walking into a room full of students and trying to look like we belong. They’ll sniff me out as an outsider right away. I haven’t been to a real party since college.”

“I can believe that. You’re not exactly a wild one, sweetheart.”

Olivia threw the crumpled shirt she had just taken off at Brock. “Rude.”

“Oh, come on. We both know I’m the cool one of the two of us. I wouldn’t mind cracking a beer, playing some drinking games… going back in time a little.”

“First off, we’re here for work. And secondly, most of these kids aren’t of drinking age. We see beer, we should report them to the college. Call the campus security.”

“Wow. I took you for a nerd, but never a snitch,” Brock said, throwing her a wink. “Way to ruin the vibe and not get the information we need…”

“Fine. I’ll be cool. But I don’t condone any of this,” Olivia said, grabbing her bag and heading for the door. Brock held it open for her as they left, chuckling to himself.

“So you’re telling me that your entire time in college you were good as gold? Not a drink in sight? Not a deadline scraped through after a hangover?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I had the occasional stray from the path…”

“Now, Olivia. What a hypocrite. You would deny these kids the college experience you had because you’re a big shot now?”

“I can’t believe I ever agreed to marry you. You drive me crazy.”

“Yeah I do,” Brock grinned, swinging an arm around Olivia’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

That much is true, Olivia thought. She allowed herself to sink against his body, smiling to herself. She certainly didn’t look like a college student anymore, but she felt like one with Brock at her side, almost giddy in love. She had always expected that stage of the romance to fade over time, to have its moment in the sun and then to move on, but it never had. Life with Brock had always felt like a teenage dream. The kind of love she and her sister had always talked about when they were children, fantasizing about their future husbands and the life they’d have together. That life had been snatched away from Veronica, but Olivia was determined to cling to it however she could.

And that meant protecting girls like Matilda too. She had to bring her home. She had to make sure that she got to live out her life in the way that she deserved. So many young women like her, like Veronica, had that snatched away from them. Olivia found herself holding on to Brock a little tighter as they headed to the party. It made her proud that she could use her job to save girls like them, to allow them another shot at the life they deserved.

The party was being held in student accommodation a few blocks away from where Hannah and Matilda shared a room. Immediately as they entered the building, Olivia felt the warmth of hundreds of bodies milling around. There were students absolutely everywhere, many of them carrying red solo cups, dancing and chatting among each other, and some god-awful song was blaring overhead. Hannah was standing off to one side, biting her nails. She seemed to be the only one not drinking. Olivia imagined she wasn’t really in the mood for a party, but they’d asked her to come along to help them identify some people that Matilda knew. There was a large gap in the timeline between Hannah and Matilda separating after lunch and her not coming home. For all they knew, Matilda had gone missing in broad daylight.

“Hey,” Hannah said, coming over to Olivia and Brock. “I’m glad you’re here. I kind of want to get in and out of here as quickly as possible. I’m really not in the mood for a party when everyone keeps asking me about Til… I just want to be at home.”

“I know. We really appreciate you helping us with this,” Olivia said earnestly. “If you can just point out a few of the people you think she knows best, we can be on our way and you can get home.”

“Okay… well, there’s Samara over there. I’ve only met her once or twice, but she’s the one who runs that club I mentioned that Til goes to every Saturday. With the escape rooms and murder mystery nights. She’s a senior, everyone knows her a little bit around here. She might be the best place to start. She can also point you in the direction of anyone else in the club. There’s also a few of her classmates here, do you want to speak to them too? Maddie and Chelsea are over there in the corner, the one with pink hair and the one with the birthmark on her face. You should be able to spot them later if you lose them in the crowd.”

“Got it. Anyone else?”

“Not of any importance,” Hannah said with a shrug. “They’re the only people here who I think know Til like I do. Unless maybe she’s keeping other secrets from me.”

Olivia didn’t miss the bitterness in Hannah’s voice. She supposed she might feel the same if her best friend had been lying to her for months, even if the timing felt a little inappropriate for such anger. With everything going on, she thought she could forgive Hannah for a little anger, though.

“We really do appreciate this, Hannah. We’re leaving in the morning, but we’ll be sure to keep in touch.”

Hannah nodded and then left the party, abandoning the loud music and excitable chatter.

“Let’s start with Samara, I suppose,” Olivia said. “I think her friend just went to get a drink. Might be a good time to strike.”

“Be careful, Olivia. She looks like one of the cool kids. She might try and avoid us because you’re an obvious Fed,” Brock teased her as they walked through the crowd. Olivia rolled her eyes with a quiet chuckle.

Samara gave Olivia and Brock an uncertain look as they approached her. She was a beautiful woman with tan skin and thick eyebrows, silky black hair spilling down her back. But her frown indicated that she wasn’t welcoming of the newcomers to the party, two people who obviously didn’t belong there. She was gripping her solo cup so hard that she had made finger imprints in the sides of the plastic.

“Hi,” Olivia said tentatively.

“Can I help you?” she asked, though she didn’t sound like she wanted to. It wasn’t exactly how Olivia hoped to be greeted at a party, but she couldn’t afford to be picky.

“Yes, hopefully. You’re Samara, right?”

“Who’s asking?” She folded her arms, looking wholly uncomfortable.

“I’m Olivia and this is my partner Brock. We’re with the FBI.”

Samara’s eyes shot wide open. “What the—”

Olivia held up a hand to reassure and shush her before she completely blew their cover. “We promise, you’re not in trouble, nobody’s in trouble. We’re not here about the party. We really hate to disturb your night, but as I’m sure you know, Matilda Bennett’s disappearance is a concern and we’re speaking to as many of her friends as we can. Do you have time for a quick conversation with us?”

“Hey… I’m sorry, I wasn’t really expecting to be speaking with anyone about this tonight,” Samara said, looking over her shoulder like for someone to rescue her. “We already spoke to the police…”

“We know, you’re not in trouble or anything. We’re just hoping to get a deeper insight into Matilda and hopefully figure out if there’s something we have missed. It’s important to us that we get as full a picture as possible,” Olivia said. Samara visibly squirmed, but it seemed she had realized that there was nothing she could do to wriggle out of the situation. She sighed, shifting from foot to foot.

“Okay. I guess, um, we can go upstairs. It might be a bit quieter up there. Besides, this isn’t really party talk…”

“You’ll be back to your friends in no time, I promise,” Brock said, giving his most reassuring smile. Samara nodded and ushered for them to follow her. Upstairs, a landing with several comfy chairs overlooked the party below. Samara offered them a seat to sit down, her eyes darting around as if looking for trouble.

“You seem a little flustered by this whole thing,” Olivia said.

“Wouldn’t you be, if you were being constantly harassed about a missing person?” she snapped. Then she paused, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around herself. “Sorry… I guess we’ve all been feeling the pressure since she disappeared. A lot of people have been asking me questions. I guess because of the murder mystery club, people are looking at me. As if a casual hobby of mine has anything to do with a missing woman. I don’t really want to draw more attention to myself by sitting down with two FBI agents in the middle of a party, either,” she said pointedly.

“Well, we appreciate your time, and we promise we won’t go broadcasting that we’re talking to you. The last thing we want is to draw a spotlight to you. We just need answers on what happened to Matilda,” Olivia told her.

“I’m not sure why everyone thinks I would know something, though. I don’t even know Tilda super well… given that I run the mystery club, I don’t actually get that much time to socialize, I’m too busy running the show.”

“Well, what can you tell us about her as someone who sees her once a week at least? You must have some insight, especially if people keep pointing us in your direction. You don’t need to give us her daily movements, just some context about her. Was she well-liked in the group? Did she have friends?” Brock asked.

Samara scrunched her eyebrows together irritably. Her hostility wasn’t making the conversation any easier, but Olivia could sympathize with her uncomfortable position.

“Yes, I would say so. She could be quiet sometimes, but it’s not exactly the club for the most charismatic bunch, so I don’t think it ever hindered her or anything. It’s just nerds like me looking for a safe place to hang out and try out some games. She really enjoyed the club, I can tell you that much. She gets very into it, takes it pretty seriously a lot of the time, maybe more than the others. Some people really just come to hang out with friends, but she’s always super locked in. I always got the sense that she was there more for the activities than she was for the social aspect.”

“And she attended the club meet-up the night she disappeared?”

Samara blinked. “Well, no, actually. The police didn’t tell you this? She texted about five minutes before we started and said she wouldn’t be there that evening. It was annoying at the time, actually. We were doing real life Clue and it was designed for six players, meaning we were one short. She was supposed to be Miss Scarlett… we had costumes and everything all ready. So when she bailed, I texted her back right away asking her why, but she never replied. I found it annoying until I realized that… that she was gone.”

This was news to Olivia and Brock. It was a pretty important piece of information to be missing from their file too. Olivia considered the implications of it. If Matilda actually did text just before the event then that could mean she wasn’t kidnapped until after. Then again, if someone had control of her phone, then perhaps they’d sent the text to buy them time and avoid suspicion. It was a vital piece of information, but one that opened up more questions than it provided answers.

“So when was the last time you saw her?” Brock asked. Samara shrugged, non-committal and blase. Olivia was starting to get a little irritated with her unhelpful attitude, but she knew she couldn’t allow it to show if she wanted help from her.

“I saw her on campus earlier this week. This little club isn’t official or anything, but we’re pretty much all students, so we see each other sometimes out and about. She was taking photographs; I think she’s into that kind of stuff, she’s got a fancy camera. That’s why I remember seeing her, I suppose. And before that it was the club meeting last week. We did an escape room so we didn’t really chat, we just played the game and got out of there. She didn’t come for drinks after. She had somewhere else to be.”

“And she seemed okay at the time? Nothing seemed to be worrying her?”

Samara shook her head. “No. She seemed perfectly fine. I mean, I like to think the club has made me a good judge of character, a good judge of noticing subtle shifts in people. It’s kind of the point, looking for anomalies, for how people act, that sort of thing. If something was wrong at the time, I would’ve thought to mention it.” She paused, frowning at Brock. “But this was a kidnapping. I don’t understand why you need to know about the lead up. Why would she see it coming?”

“It could be that she was stalked ahead of time. Whoever did this knew her comings and goings at least a little. They will have planned ahead, and it’s possible that Matilda could’ve picked up on someone following her,” Brock said. Samara nodded.

“Of course, that does make sense… I never thought of it that way. But no, she seemed fine. Perfectly herself from what I could tell.”

“Any new members of the club? Anyone who wasn’t around before making an appearance now?”

Samara shook her head.

“No, we’re a closed club. It’s been ages since we had any new members. We never hung out much outside of club stuff, but she never had a partner pick her up from socials or anything like that. I never really knew her outside of the context of the club. I don’t think I could even tell you what her major is.”

Olivia chewed the inside of her cheek. Samara clearly didn’t know anything that would be useful to them, unless she was hiding something. But she didn’t think so. Like Samara, she also believed she had become a good judge of character in her line of work, and this grumpy young woman seemed a little self-absorbed. It wouldn’t shock Olivia if she knew nothing at all about Matilda, despite the fact that they saw one another every week.

“Anything else we should know?”

Samara crossed her arms across her chest. It felt like she was closing the book. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright. I guess we’ll try elsewhere. Thank you, Samara. You can get back to the party now,” Brock said, a slight tone of disapproval evident in his voice. Samara had the decency to look a little guilty.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help. Really, I am. I swear I would tell you if there was something to tell, but there isn’t,” Samara said as she stood up. Olivia handed her a card and shook her hand.

“I’m sure you would. We understand it’s not easy talking to the authorities in times like these. But if you think of something, call.”

“I hope she comes home safe. Saturday murder mystery club wouldn’t be the same if she didn’t,” Samara said softly. Then she scurried away, keeping her head down and clearly praying that no one had seen her talking with Brock and Olivia. Brock sighed and shrugged.

“I guess we should try the other two.”

“Maddie and Chelsea,” Olivia noted.

“Nice of them to make themselves easy to spot in a crowd,” Brock said, gesturing over the balcony to the ground below where a pink head was bobbing through the crowd. “Let’s go.”

It took Brock and Olivia a while to make it through the crowd to find their next interviewees. The air was stuffy and hot, and someone spilled a little from their cup on Olivia as they nudged past her. She let out an irritated huff. Why is it so damn crowded in here? She cut the thought off half way through, realizing just how old and grouchy it made her sound, even inside her own head. Brock had been right. Her student days truly were behind her.

Chelsea and Maddie were outside when Brock and Olivia caught up to them. Neither of them looked in the mood to party, the pair of them sitting close to one another on a wall, no drinks in their hands and glum expressions fixed on their faces. Clearly, they were more cut up about Matilda’s disappearance than Samara was. Olivia and Brock exchanged a quick glance, before Brock silently nodded for Olivia to approach. This was clearly a situation that needed to be handled delicately. She went in first, offering a smile.

“Hi, girls, I’m sorry to interrupt. You’re friends of Matilda Bennett’s, right? Hannah pointed you out to us.”

The girl with the birthmark on her face frowned. “Um… yeah, that’s us.”

“I’m Olivia. This is my partner, Brock. We work for the FBI and we’re working on Matilda’s case. We want to bring her home as quickly as possible and to do that, we need a full picture of what was going on in her life before this happened. We were hoping you might be able to give us some insight and help us out.”

The two girls looked at one another, silently deciding between them whether Olivia could be trusted. After a minute, they turned back to her, clearly willing to entertain her.

“I’m Maddie,” the girl with the pink hair said. “And this is Chelsea.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. I only wish it was under better circumstances,” Olivia said, perching on the wall beside Chelsea. She hoped it might put the girls at ease, but the brick was already starting to dig into the back of her legs. Definitely getting older, she thought to herself. “You both have classes with her, right?”

Chelsea nodded. “We met on the first day of class. She looked like a frightened little bird, so we kind of took her under our wing. I’m so glad we did. She really came out of her shell and the three of us have become pretty close. When we found out she disappeared… we both felt sick to our stomachs. Life just feels… wrong right now. Some friends of ours convinced us to come out to the party tonight to take our mind off things… but it’s not right without her here with us. We’re both so worried.”

“We believe she’s safe for now,” Olivia told them. “We just need to figure out who would want to take her away and where to. Do you know anything about changes in Matilda’s life recently? New friends, perhaps? Or did she have any concerns about anything?”

“No… she seemed great, actually. Like she was really starting to settle down here,” Maddie said, fiddling with the dry ends of her pink hair. “I think she seemed a bit homesick at first. She misses her mom a lot, worries about her sometimes. But aside from that, she’s as well as she’s been for as long as we’ve known her. And she’s always open when she is worried, so I think we would know if something was going on. She didn’t seem worried that something was about to happen… and then to be swept up off the street like that…” Maddie’s lip wobbled and Chelsea put an arm around her friend’s waist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Chelsea said gently, allowing Maddie to rest her head on her shoulder. She turned to Olivia. “I would agree. She’s been happy here. She loves her classes, never misses a single one, always turns up eager to learn. She’s made tons of friends and she’s always doing something; she loves taking photos around campus, she’s joined a few clubs, keeps herself busy. I feel like her life is bordering on perfect for her. I can’t see someone here wanting to hurt her, wanting to put her through this.”

Olivia nodded. “Okay. What about recent life changes? Was she seeing someone, perhaps?”

That seemed to silence the girls. They both looked at each other before casting their gaze to the ground. Olivia narrowed her eyes.

“She was seeing someone, then? Who was it?”

“We don’t know,” Chelsea said. “We just know she was dating some guy. We never met him. It was the one thing she kept private from us.”

“Well, did it worry you at all? This secret she was keeping from you?”

“I mean, not really. But when you put it in context… I guess it doesn’t look great for this secret guy she had on the go. But I couldn’t tell you anything about him. We never saw him, not even a picture. She would disappear some days to go and see him, usually in the evenings. I know Hannah said she slept over at his place a few times. I think he’s older, living off campus. But we weren’t worried about it. Whoever he was… he was making her happy. I can’t see him being involved in her disappearance.”

That completely depends on who this mystery man is, Olivia thought to herself. But at least they were finally getting somewhere. She nodded looking between the two girls.

“Anything else that you think might be important?”

Maddie and Chelsea exchanged another look. Olivia didn’t like how they silently communicated. What secrets were being shared in those looks, which subjects were being avoided with one glance into one another’s eyes? She had a feeling there was more they weren’t telling her. But she also knew a little something about how deep college girl loyalty ran. She wasn’t sure she could extract more from them tonight, not without some serious commitment to mining from them. She didn’t have time to build that kind of trust with them. She handed them a card with her work phone number on it.

“I would like to talk more if you think of anything else,” she said softly. “If anything comes to mind… come to me first. I know it can be intimidating talking to someone about something so important… but trust me, all I want is to bring your friend home. And I can’t do that without the full picture.”

Maddie took the card, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.

“We understand. We’ll call if we think of anything. Thank you… thank you for trying to bring her home.”

“Of course,” Olivia said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She left them then, hoping that she had given them something to think about at least. Brock was waiting for her patiently a few feet away, his arms folded.

“I couldn’t hear any of the conversation, try as I might. Anything of interest?”

“Possibly. Apparently, she was seeing someone, but they can’t tell me anything about the guy,” Olivia said, holding back an exasperated sigh. “They didn’t seem to think it was important, didn’t think he was relevant… but she was seeing the guy in secret, and as a result none of her friends knew the guy she was spending so much time with. Now, she’s disappeared. It doesn’t look great for this guy, let’s be honest.”

“Young women have secret boyfriends all the time. Hell, I’ve been someone’s secret boyfriend more than a few times…”

Olivia grinned. “Color me intrigued… though there’s one major difference between you and Matilda. You’re not the one who has been kidnapped.”

“Strictly, that’s not true… I’ve been kidnapped before too.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. Now was not the time for one of Brock’s jokes. “Focus, babe.”

“Sorry.”

“If this guy was dating her in secret, what if he was scoping her out? Figuring out a window of opportunity where he could snatch her away. What if all along he knew who her father was and was trying to get close enough to make her trust him? It could all be connected.”

“You’re right. It could be,” Brock agreed. “We’ll keep it in mind. But we’ve got an early flight. Let’s get some rest and pick this back up tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me. Somehow, I’m all partied out,” Olivia mumbled.

“So you don’t fancy the afterparty then?”

“Kindly shut up.”

Olivia woke in the middle of the night to a phone call, her mobile buzzing urgently on her side table. She groaned, letting a little light into her eye with a wince. She’d only been back from the party for a few hours and they had an early flight, but when she saw that John Grace was calling, she knew this wasn’t a call she could ignore. Sighing, she sat up in bed, wishing for once that she had a job that allowed her to sleep through the night. She picked up the call.

“John… what time is it?”

“It doesn’t matter what time it is,” John hissed on the other end of the line. Olivia raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t expecting such a rude response from him, but then again, people under pressure often lashed out in ways she couldn’t predict. Presumably, John was starting to feel the weight of his daughter’s disappearance. Even so, it could be perfectly described as a rude awakening. Olivia pressed her phone to her shoulder with her cheek, allowing her to stretch and poke Brock awake.

“What’s wrong?”

“I received another video, that’s what.”

“Is Matilda in the video?”

“No… they didn’t say anything in the video, it’s… well, you’ll see. They… they know where I used to live. I’ll send the video across.”

Olivia waited while John sent a file to her, nudging Brock awake for a second time in the meantime. He silently propped himself on his pillow, grumbled some complaints, and begrudgingly looked over her shoulder to watch the video.

The footage was static, no movement in sight, but there was still plenty to see. The shot showed a nice house in the suburbs, a three-story place built of clean white brick. Except that there was one word scrawled across the front of the house, in paint as red as blood.

WRATH.

Olivia exchanged a glance with Brock. A deadly sin. Both of them were thinking the same thing; that perhaps Matilda’s extreme interest in Dante’s Divine Comedy might be of importance after all. But how did that connect to Matilda’s father and her childhood home? And more importantly, how did the kidnapper know about Matilda’s fixation? How well did this kidnapper know her and her family?

Olivia pressed the phone back to her ear, frowning to herself. It was a lot to process at such a late hour.

“When did you receive this video?”

“Five minutes ago. I called you the second I watched it. I haven’t been sleeping. How can I possibly when Matilda’s out there somewhere, being threatened by these damn low lives? And now this… it feels like I’m being taunted, like they’re trying to set me up for something…”

Olivia frowned. The problem with the case was that the kidnapper was actively trying to defame John in some way, and something certainly wasn’t right between him and his daughter. But every time they tried to probe for what might have caused such a targeted attack, John was looking for ways to direct blame. Why do you feel like you’re being taunted, John? Olivia wanted to ask. Surely you have some idea why someone would do this to you? It felt way too personal for it to be some random attack on his character. No, this kidnapper knew things, knew secrets, and John wasn’t willing to enlighten them about what they might be.

“So this video means nothing to you?” Brock probed.

“No! Why, should it?”

“You tell us,” Olivia said coolly. “You’re the person being targeted by this. That house is where you raised your daughter. They must have a reason to do this, and they must know something about you if they’re targeting your old home. What correlation does the word ‘wrath’ have to that place?”

“I don’t know! Something here is very wrong. Whoever is doing this wants to drag my name through the mud. They want to make me look guilty of something, but I have no idea what any of this could mean. My daughter is my world. She had a good life in that house. We all did. I don’t understand why someone would do this.”

Olivia rubbed her temples in frustration. The conversation was clearly going to go in circles if John wasn’t willing to explore the possibilities of why he was being targeted. One thing was becoming clear to Olivia: they needed to move on and speak to John’s ex-wife, Caroline. There were two sides to this story, two sides to this seemingly amicable divorce, two sides to the experience in their old home. Maybe she could tell them what would possess someone to vandalize their former family home with a word that had so many dark connotations.

“We’ll look into this, John,” Olivia said eventually. She wasn’t in the mood to try and extract more information out of him when he was determined not to tell them anything. “Try and get some sleep. You’re no good to anyone if you stay up driving yourself crazy.”

John took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re right. I need to keep my cool. I haven’t done anything wrong, so why should I be trying to negotiate with these people? I should leave it in your hands to find the person responsible for this.”

That would be easier if you were cooperating properly, Olivia thought to herself, but she didn’t say it out loud. Difficult as John was proving to be in the investigation, she needed to keep him on their side. She got the feeling that he had a temper that was just waiting to rise out of him. Maybe Caroline could give them some insight into that.

Maybe that’s why he had the word wrath graffitied outside his old home.

“Goodnight, John.”

Olivia hung up the call and abandoned the phone on her nightstand again. Brock propped his head on his elbow, clearly keen to discuss the topic.

“What do you think?”

Olivia sighed, closing her eyes, but she could tell already that sleep had abandoned her.

“What I think is that I’m going to be super cranky if I don’t get some sleep before we head out,” she said. “But I also think that it’s going to be impossible to rest now.”

Brock seemed to be wide awake at this point, chewing on his lip.

“This is pretty big. The connection between Matilda’s obsession with the Divine Comedy and what’s written on the house… that just can’t be a coincidence. It feels like a message that goes beyond targeting him now. It feels personal to her as well. It seems like whoever did this knows her pretty well. The family in general, perhaps.”

“And the implications… they’re not good for John,” Olivia replied. “He was told to confess to some unknown crime and now this video… it implies that it has something to do with his wrath. The way he spoke to me when I picked up the phone… he’s definitely got a temper, a side to him that we haven’t really seen yet. We need to speak to Caroline and get her thoughts on all of this. Maybe this is why she left him.”

“Should we try to get an earlier flight? We could go right now?”

Olivia hummed as she considered it. “No. If we’re going to see Caroline there’s no sense in waking her in the middle of the night and frightening her. I would be tempted to talk to Bridge again now while we’re here, but I think she already told us everything we need to know. Besides, I’d like to keep this stuff about Dante on the down low for now… I don’t think John should know about this angle we’ve discovered. Not until we know we can trust him, which I’m not certain we can.”

Brock nodded. “Agreed. If the kidnapper is trying to paint him in a bad light, it’s working. The more we learn, the more I feel like he’s hiding something. And the person who wants to expose him might actually have a good reason for it.”

Caroline’s home was much more modest than John’s own, though still lovely. After getting off their early flight, Brock and Olivia barely had enough time to stop for coffee before driving out of the city to her two-story home. There was a pleasantness about the neighborhood, a homely community vibe that seemed so different from John’s street. Even at the early hour, many people were outside gardening or chatting on the street. There were some kids playing out in the road with hardly a care in the world. It was the sort of place Olivia had always craved as a kid, the kind of place that she often saw on TV. She didn’t think such places really existed, but then, she hadn’t known much comparable peace in her life. Now, she was about to shatter the illusion this place was giving. Because even in places like this, the people weren’t untouchable from pain and tragedy.

They saw Caroline immediately when they pulled up outside her home, sitting on her front porch with a knitting project on her lap and a calmness about her. Clearly, she had no idea what she was about to be in for. A missing daughter, an unraveling of her past, and a whole lot of questions. Olivia almost wanted to drive away and not look back just to spare her the pain.

She didn’t even look up as they got out of their car. She was in her own world, her knitting needles clacking quietly together. Age had been kind to her, making her kind-looking face softer. Her dark hair was now streaked with gray that she hadn’t bothered to cover up, and it suited her. It was the very definition of aging with grace. She didn’t look like someone who had suffered hardship, though Olivia knew looks could be deceiving. Perhaps the last few years away from John had been kind to her. She eventually looked up as they stepped up onto the porch.

“Uh, hello? Can I help you?” she asked with a nervous smile that made Olivia’s heart ache. She hated to ruin this woman’s peace, but they had to be the ones to let her know about her daughter.

“It’s Caroline Grace, right?” Brock said gently. She sat up a little taller.

“Yes…”

“Your ex-husband John sent us to discuss something with you. I’m afraid it’s a difficult topic.”

Caroline’s forehead creased with a frown, her posture slumping a little. “What does he want from me?”

The tension between her and John was immediately obvious, screaming out to Olivia. She swallowed.

“We’re with the FBI. Your daughter… she went missing a few days ago.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry, Caroline. John didn’t want to worry you until it was absolutely necessary,” Brock said. “I think he hoped she would be back by now… but she was kidnapped. There have been two ransom videos from the kidnapper. We’re in the process of trying to figure out their location so that we can bring her home.”

“Matilda…” Caroline breathed, pressing her hand to her chest. “She hasn’t replied to me in a few days… I just assumed she was busy. Oh, God… oh, God…”

“I’m so sorry,” Olivia said, but instead of the flood of panic and tears that she had expected, a fury appeared on Caroline’s face that chilled Olivia’s core.

“Coward,” she muttered under her breath, slamming down her knitting project. Her anger seemed to be directed somewhere in the distance, where she stared with fury burning in her eyes. “He should have told me. He’s known for days and hasn’t even reached out, hasn’t bothered to discuss our own daughter in her time of need? That is so… so like him. She’s my daughter. I’m the one who raised her. How could this be kept from me?”

“I’m so sorry,” Olivia repeated. “Do you… do you want to take this conversation inside? We can tell you everything that we know, everything we’ve found out so far.”

Caroline swallowed, clearly close to tears. But after a moment, she nodded and motioned them to follow her inside the house. They continued after her quickly and shut the door.

“Can I… can I get you both a drink?” Caroline asked, already moving over to the sink in the kitchenette adjoined to her living area. But as she turned with a glass of water in hand, it slipped from her grip and shattered on the floor, causing her to yelp in surprise. Water spilled everywhere, shards of glass scattered all over the floor. Caroline, seemingly unsure what to do, straightened up and put her hands over her face and let out a small whimper.

“I’m sorry… I’m a bundle of nerves,” Caroline said, her hands visibly shaking. Olivia guided her by her elbow away from the mess in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Please, sit with me. We just want to talk, see if you can shed some light on the situation that we might have so far missed. We can tell you all we’ve discovered so far as well.”

Caroline lowered her hands and nodded absently as Olivia guided her to her seat. Brock wordlessly headed into the kitchen to clean up the glass. Olivia suspected that this interview would go better if it was just her and Caroline, a smaller audience for Caroline’s intimate pain, so she was grateful for the excuse to be alone with her. She sat beside Caroline on the sofa, fixing her eyes on the woman to deliver the news in full.

“Your daughter went missing in the evening, just before she was due to attend a club with some friends,” Olivia said. “We believe it was a pre-meditated and targeted attack, that she was the explicit target and not just a random pick. Prior to her disappearance, someone tampered with the cameras near her dorms, ensuring that no one saw what happened to her. As a result, we have no eyewitnesses right now. But this kidnapping isn’t random. John has so far received two ransom videos…”

“He WHAT?” she shrieked, her eyes flaring. For a moment Olivia considered the word ‘wrath’ might apply to Caroline, but she sympathized entirely with the woman. This was certainly an appropriate time for wrath.

She continued, wanting to get through this before derailing into details. “They were videos delivered directly to him. The first showed Matilda captured and asked for John to confess to something. We don’t know what, but that is the message. They don’t want money or influence, just: ‘confess’. The second video, sent in the early hours of this morning, was footage of your old family home… the word wrath was written on the front of the building. We have been trying to get John to think about what this could all mean, but so far… well, he hasn’t come up with much. Does any of this mean anything to you?”

Caroline took a moment to process what she was hearing. She ran a hand through her hair, raking her scalp in a way that looked both slow and painful. Staring at the ground, she attempted to speak.

“Do you think… do you think that the kidnapper is trying to unveil something about John’s past? Something that might be… dangerous? Or cruel?”

Olivia’s heart skipped a beat. What did Caroline know? And more importantly, was she willing to tell her?

“It seems like that’s a possibility,” she said. “Whoever is targeting him, it seems they want him to say something specific, spell it out for the world. And the second video we received suggests that maybe he did something in that house that you lived in together. Would you be able to share your thoughts on that?”

Caroline swallowed, unable to meet Olivia’s eye for a moment. She leaned forward, her fingers threaded together and leaning on her knees. Gone was the quietly confident woman they’d seen on the porch. One mention of John and she seemed to have shriveled into a smaller version of herself.

“Can… can you assure me that whatever we talk about here won’t go any further?” Caroline asked.

“Yes, of course, if it’s important to you, then we can keep it between us. But understand, if what you’re about to say is crucial to bringing Matilda home safe, we have to act on it.”

Caroline took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Please, go ahead.”

Caroline stared into the distance, looking like she might burst into tears. She blinked several times, still unable to look Olivia in the eyes.

“I was sworn to secrecy about this, but I can’t stay silent now, even if… even if it costs me. I don’t know whether it helps find my daughter… but I have to say something in case it does,” Caroline said with a sniff. “John and I… we married young, and it was the worst decision of my life. Likely of his too. Neither of us had a day of happiness once we exchanged rings. I didn’t know the kind of man he was back then. But he showed his hand later on. He used to… hit me. Not often, at first. I used to put it down to the stress of his job. The first time, he came home after a really long day… something was bothering him, I forget what. He’d had a few drinks with his colleagues after work so he was intoxicated. And I asked him how his day was. He said he didn’t want to talk about it, but I tried to encourage him, tried my best to be a doting wife… and he smacked me around the face. So hard I fell to my knees. He walked away and went to bed without another word to me.”

Olivia kept her face carefully neutral. She wanted to say she was sorry, to say that this was horrific, to offer support and sympathy, but she knew that all she could do was listen.

“But the following day, he came to me and apologized. That first time, he begged on his knees for forgiveness, tears in his eyes and his hands in mine. He said he would never even raise his voice to me again. And I believed him. Life moved on. I spent every day in quiet fear, wondering if it would happen again. But at some point, I let my guard down enough to get closer to him again. I wanted a child more than anything in the world, and I felt that John was the pathway to that. I was a good Christian girl, and I believed in sticking out the marriage through thick and thin. Better or worse, sickness and health, the whole thing. I really believed in that. We got pregnant with Matilda, and he was loving and careful and kind throughout the pregnancy. I thought that the one time he hit me was a fluke, that he had just had a moment of weakness. I mean, don’t we all from time to time? I thought it was going to be okay, that Matilda’s arrival would fix everything. Until she was born. And he couldn’t deal with her at all. Couldn’t stand the crying, couldn’t stand the late nights, couldn’t stand that I wasn’t the pretty little wife that he ordered anymore. I was broken and exhausted and the way I looked changed. He told me as much, when I hadn’t slept for twenty-four hours and Matilda was crying on my chest. He told me that he wished I hadn’t changed. He told me I looked a mess. That’s when I began to see my worth dwindle in his eyes.”

Caroline laughed bitterly, shaking her head to herself. “From there, he stopped caring. Every opportunity that he found to hurt me, he did. He hit me more and more often, but I couldn’t leave. I had no money of my own, nowhere to take Matilda, and I was struggling enough as it was. I was barely sleeping, taking care of Matilda all by myself. I hardly ever left the house, too battered and bruised to be seen in public, too exhausted to even get out of the door anyway. I reserved all of my strength for her, to make sure she was safe and loved even if I wasn’t. And in some ways, I felt it was worth it to give my daughter the life she deserved. Good schooling, a backyard to play in, the world at her fingertips. He could provide all of that for her, things I could never give her if we went out into the world alone. And she was happy when she was young. He played the doting father for a while once she got past the tantrums and the screaming. She was the perfect kid in any parent’s eyes: content, happy, never really causing a fuss. And she loved him so much. I convinced myself it was enough. That it could carry us through the hard times. And for a while, it did. When Matilda was happy, he was happy too. He hit me less, and he would never dare hurt me in front of her back then. But once she started school, his contempt for me came back stronger than ever. He wasn’t around her much while she was growing up because of work, and Matilda began to notice the shift, though I’m not sure she understood it back then. She became much more reserved, more sullen, more observant. I think her curse has always been that she understands the world a little too well. And she knew something wasn’t right. She drew back from him, became closer to me. I saw it happening and it gave me relief in a strange way… knowing she could sense where the love in our family truly came from. It bonded her with me deeper than I ever expected. But John saw it too and couldn’t understand why his daughter, the one who doted on him so much, no longer took an interest in him. And so whenever John was around me from then on, he took that anger out on me. He couldn’t understand that he was the problem, the reason his daughter wanted nothing to do with him any longer. I took every beating dutifully, lost in a dream world of my own making, repeating the mantra that it was all worth it in order to give my girl the perfect life. It makes me sick to think of that now. But I still believed it was worth it. Matilda’s life was otherwise great. She was settled at school, she got good grades and she excelled at everything she tried her hand at. She was talking about going to Yale from a young age, and I promised she would make it there. I told myself that my hurt wasn’t her concern, only my burden to bear. Except… it didn’t work out that way.”

Caroline paused, staring out into space. Olivia could see her hands trembling until she laced them together to stop it. Caroline took a calming breath before continuing the story, unable to look Olivia in the eye while she told the next part.

“Then came the night that he broke my leg. He shoved me so hard that I fell down the stairs. It woke Matilda. She was a teenager at that point, and lying to her wasn’t so easy anymore, but I tried. I told her I tripped and fell, even as I was going half blind with pain, even as her father stood motionless at the top of the stairs, glaring down at me. He wasn’t trying to hide who he was anymore. Matilda, of course, was distraught. She called for an ambulance, stayed with me the whole time. John didn’t join us at the hospital. And it was there that for the first time, Matilda asked me out loud whether her father was hurting me. I denied it. I still didn’t see the way out. I thought I had to allow him to do it, to pay a price for the life I wanted so badly for her. I still wanted to protect her, but the only way I saw how was by being the punching bag of the household. I had lost all of my self-worth and turned it into what I thought was resilience. Looking back, that was delusional. I should have known that someday, a man like him would turn on his own daughter, would take things too far and never be able to reverse it. But on that day, as I lay in hospital, something shifted inside me. I think I knew that if he hurt me again… there was every risk that he would kill me. He had seen what I would put up with, seen that I was willing to break my bones, my soul. I don’t think I cared so much about dying by then… it seemed like the only path away from my own suffering. But I knew if I died, there would be nothing standing between him and Matilda. I started to daydream about leaving. I would pick up some work, bagging groceries or working as a receptionist… she and I would share a small apartment until she was able to go off to college… and all I would ask of John ever again was that he help pay for Matilda’s studies. In exchange, I would keep quiet about everything that had transpired over those awful years together. It was a small price to ask of him for all we had suffered. I felt sure that it was the only way.”

Caroline chewed on her thumb nail, anxiously recalling whatever happened next.

“But of course, I needed a bargaining chip to pave the way to my new life. I remember the day so clearly… October 19th. He had just finished up a big case, so he was home more than I was used to. I had just recovered from my broken leg enough that I could run if I needed to. I told him I was leaving him. I told him that I would go public if he didn’t let us go, if he didn’t promise to support Matilda for the rest of her life. I was so sure that I was going to walk away unscathed… I don’t know where I got the nerve. But the threat didn’t work. It only made him want to hurt me more. I thought he might kill me that day. But before he could really lay into me, Matilda caught him in the act. She took a photo, told him that she would blackmail him until he died.” Caroline paused, her eyes misty. “Well, he did everything he thought he was supposed to to fix it. He thought the power of persuasion would carry him through. He dropped to his knees and begged the way he did for me that first time he hurt me. But she was always stronger than me. And so a deal was arranged right there and then. He was to buy us a house where we could be away from him, where she never had to see him again. In exchange, I said I would make a few public appearances with him every year, to keep up the pretense that his family hadn’t fallen apart. He was always obsessed with his self-image, and that extended to us. Besides, I think he liked to believe he still had some control, some power over me. And I suppose he did… does. It’s not entirely fair the way things played out… but it’s a small price to pay. I’ve paid worse tolls. But I’ve hated every time I’ve had to see him. Putting on a smile, pretending like everything is the same. It’s been worth it to keep him from our lives, even if it keeps those memories of the past a little too close to home. I can say now that I’m healing. Four years without pain. Four years without someone controlling me.”

Caroline took a deep breath. “It was hard, but necessary. I don’t think I would’ve gotten out alive if it wasn’t for Matilda and how she helped me.”

Olivia nodded. Now that she was given an opening to speak again, she knew she had to tread carefully. But there were things she needed to know.

“And her relationship with John? How has that been in the last four years?”

Caroline grimaced ever so slightly.

“Matilda wiped him from her life. She told me once that she tells her new friends that her father is dead. She went to college with a new name, opting for my maiden name. John wanted to pay for her to attend, clearly trying to make amends. I told her to take the offer, the way I always intended for things to be, but she said she didn’t want any further debt to him, and she certainly didn’t want to have his name associated with her. She didn’t want people to recognize his family name and make the association, and she wanted to do everything on her own merit. I was proud of her for that, even though I knew paying her way wouldn’t be easy. Once we had left John’s home, I got that job I’d always talked about, and I started to save up to help her through Yale, but she got a scholarship too, so it’s been okay. We’ve managed. As for her father… I told her that if she wanted a relationship with him, I would understand. That’s her choice to make. He was a part of her life once, and he would always be her father. I told her she might regret not speaking to him, but she outright refused. She said she never wanted to see him again. That was almost four years ago now and she’s kept to that vow. He has her number, but she never picks up his calls, never speaks to him. I asked her once why she didn’t just block him. She said it was safer to let him think the door was open. Because if he saw there was never a chance, then maybe he’d do something else. Something dangerous. Something none of us would come back from.” Caroline shook her head. “She’s always been so much brighter than me. I suppose she gets that from him. I’m glad that’s the only thing she ever took from him.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Olivia said gently.

Caroline sucked in a breath, wringing her hands together.

“She is… she really is. I… I just can’t believe she’s not safe at home right now. All this work to get her out of danger, and now…” She paused, shaking her head as if to rid herself of darker thoughts. “I know I’ve talked a lot… I don’t know if any of this sheds light on what might have happened…”

“It does. It explains why the kidnapper chose to write ‘wrath’ on your old house, at the very least. It’s a threat toward John. Letting him know that they’re onto him.”

“I don’t understand how someone found out… I never told a soul about any of this before today,” Caroline said anxiously, biting at her nails.

“Perhaps there were rumors at work. Maybe someone saw the dark side of him and wanted to out him. Or perhaps the kidnapper has forced Matilda to shed light on it all,” Olivia said. “What I don’t understand yet is why they would threaten to hurt Matilda in the process. Is there no other leverage they can use against him? Anything you might be able to tell us?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “Honestly, it sounds terrible, but… I don’t think Matilda’s life being held over his head will do the kidnapper any good. John doesn’t care enough to see a threat to her life as enough to make him talk. But… I don’t really know what else they could have on him. In the years I was married to him, I found myself avoiding him at all costs, afraid to make him angry. It put considerable distance between us. In the end, I never really knew him.”

“It’s okay, what you’ve told me really helps anyway,” Olivia said. “If Matilda has become involved, then perhaps the kidnapper believes that is his weak spot, as most daughters are to their parents. But it’s interesting, given what you’ve told me and the fact that they seemingly are trying to get him to confess to something. It’s like they know him already, like they’ve been building some sort of case against him and they’re using that to manipulate him. They’re not interested in money, only the secrets he holds… and if this were to get out, his career and life would certainly crumble.”

“But no one can know that I told you this,” Caroline said seriously. “If he knows I talked, I’m as good as dead.”

“We would never allow that.”

“You swore you wouldn’t reveal that I told you this. I need to know I can trust you on that. I’m the only person Matilda has left. If he hurts me, then she has no chance. Please. You have to hold on to this information, at least for now,” Caroline said urgently.

Olivia took a deep breath. “Okay. I understand your concern. And you’re right. If he’s unwilling to comply with the kidnappers, then none of this matters. Which means there are two solutions to this problem. Either we find Matilda some other way, or we convince John to confess. This story that you told me today could easily be what the kidnappers are looking for.”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said, her voice wavering. “I often think… if he’s capable of hurting the woman he’s supposed to love, then what else is he capable of? What if this is only the base level of what he’s done?”

Olivia considered this for a moment. Maybe wrath was only the beginning. There were six other sins, six other confessions waiting to happen, in theory. Was it possible that the kidnapper wanted John to confess to more than one thing? And if so, what else was he guilty of?

“Caroline… do you know anything of Matilda’s interest in Dante’s Divine Comedy?”

Caroline nodded. “Yes… although it all went over my head a little bit. She calls me a few times a week, and she went through a phase of walking me through what she’d read that week. She spoke a lot about The Divine Comedy. She was really interested in the deadly sins and how they applied to life. And sometimes… sometimes she spoke about her father. She talked about how he and his actions applied to the seven sins.”

Olivia’s heart was racing. She looked up at Brock, still cleaning up in the kitchen, and he gave her an urgent nod. This was something they needed desperately to explore. What was the connection between her interest in The Divine Comedy and the kidnapper? It felt like it couldn’t possibly be a casual coincidence. Everything seemed to circle back to that in the end. Olivia turned back to Caroline.

“What did she believe he’d done to apply to the sins?”

“Well, the abuse was the main thing. And then… there was drinking. He drank a lot. I suppose that may fall under gluttony. I don’t remember all that she said… something about how sloth and wrath opposed each other, and yet they came hand in hand in many ways. That always stuck in my mind, though I don’t know how that’s relevant. But she definitely mentioned gluttony too. Because he drank to excess. He was always more violent after a drink, as many people are. She was sure there was more he had done. She believed that he was evil at heart. That he had nothing inside him to redeem him. It was a heavy topic to hear from her… I found it difficult to talk about with her. But I think she found it healing, so I allowed it. It wasn’t until it became a true obsession that I began to worry. But I never had the opportunity to express that it made me nervous.”

“Did anyone else know of this… interest she had in the seven sins?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know when it started. She’s always been a big reader of the classics, Homer and Shakespeare and all, but Dante? I never heard anything about this until she went to Yale. I think it gave her comfort. It gave her some way to explain away her father’s behaviors. She likes to unpack things, to break them down and understand why things happen the way they do. In this case, it was her father she wanted to understand, I’m sure of it. It made him make more sense to her because she could see what drove him. At least, some of it she could make sense of. Some of it made sense to me too, and it did feel a bit like…closure. But it was definitely complicated. Like I said, it kind of went over my head.”

Olivia’s head was reeling. If the kidnapper knew all about Matilda’s interest in the seven deadly sins, was that why they were now using it to manipulate John? And how well did they know Matilda to know of her keen interest in the topic? They must be someone close to her, someone who had come into her life recently. But the cruelty of using her interest against her was hard to swallow. Olivia thought of Matilda’s friends that she had met. They didn’t seem to know of anyone who would want to hurt Matilda. But the boyfriend she’d been seeing was still a mystery to them. Who knew what that man might be compelled to do to her, or why.

“Did Matilda ever mention a boyfriend to you? Her friends seemed to think she was dating someone, but they never met him. We’re trying to figure out someone who got closer to her that we haven’t spoken to yet.”

Caroline’s hand moved to her chest, rubbing the spot over her heart anxiously.

“She never told me about a boyfriend. I… I don’t know why, but I never imagined her dating. It just never seemed like a priority of hers,” she whispered. Olivia was startled for a second. It seemed like whoever this boyfriend was, they needed to know more about him. Was the reason he’d kept out of Matilda’s friend’s lives to conceal what he had planned for her? To kidnap her and use her in the head games with John Grace? And if that was the case, what business did a young man have with a federal prosecutor?

“It might be nothing,” Olivia told Caroline. “Her friends said she seemed really happy. But they also didn’t have much information about him.”

“I thought she’d tell me when she got a boyfriend… maybe I should’ve expected it. This distance between us,” Caroline said. Brock emerged from the kitchen and put a gentle hand on Caroline’s shoulder.

“Kids keep secrets sometimes. It doesn’t always mean that they’re bad,” he said. “And by the sounds of things, you’ve been a good mother to her. Protected her. Always put her first. She loves you. And I’m sure once she’s home, you can talk about these things.”

Caroline nodded, her lips drawn into a thin line. “You’re right. I don’t need to think about this right now. I just need to focus on her coming home. And I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back. Anything at all.”

“You’ve already helped so much,” Olivia said. “We promise to work on this, night and day. We’ll bring Matilda home. I promise.”

“Until we get something solid, I think our best bet is to look into Ronaldo Pereira,” Olivia said to Brock, pointing at the case file that she had open on her lap. “He’s one of the worst guys you can imagine. He got caught for pretty much every terrible crime there is: drugs, illegal gambling, blackmail, murder, grievous bodily harm, fraud, kidnapping. He’s really tried his hand at it all. He’s the center of one of the biggest cases that John ever dealt with, and he famously said that he intended to get revenge on John someday. He’s a likely suspect for someone who would try this hard to bring John down, I expect. After all, he did promise he would do it.”

“But he’s behind bars,” Brock said with a frown. “How would he pull this off from inside a cell?”

“My guess would be that he had help from his family or some other members of his organization that may have scurried off into the shadows once he was arrested. I think many of his close family are still free, though there’s no doubt they were involved in his crimes, he just covered their tracks very well. According to the prison holding him, his wife still visits him regularly, though I’m not sure about his children and other members of the family. While they never pinned anything on his wife, Inez, she must have been aware of everything he was up to. If there was someone on the outside willing to help him, I would venture that it’s her.”

“Okay. It’s definitely worth a shot to talk to her. But are we going to talk about the elephant in the room? All this information stacking up against John… it’s painting a very different image of him than I was expecting. It’s important to be impartial and yet… I’m starting to struggle to see who we should be rooting for here.”

Olivia nodded in agreement, unable to add comment to the subject yet. Her mind was still a muddled mess when it came to John. On the exterior, he was a big-shot, a prosecutor, a man of law and order. But behind closed doors, there were things about him that could never be excused. The abuse that he’d put his family through was unforgivable. If everything Caroline had told them was true—and Olivia was inclined to believe that it was—then that meant John himself should have served time behind bars. However the kidnapper had found out about it, it seemed that their intention to expose was genuine, even if they had gone about it in a terrible way.

And yet John was acting like he was a victim, like everything that was being implied was baseless nonsense. But what reason would Caroline have to lie? She had escaped his grasp now and got the better end of the deal for it. Her testimony came with so many risks that Olivia couldn’t see how it would benefit her to say it if it wasn’t the truth. She was inclined to believe every word she’d said.

It was a hard pill to swallow, that the man asking them for help had abused his wife and daughter for years, mentally and physically. Olivia had met plenty of people over the years who had told her that their partners had hit them before. They’d say something along the lines of he didn’t mean to hurt me or he promised me it’ll never happen again or it was a one-time thing. He just got angry. But Olivia knew these instances were rarely flukes. In fact, often abusers were lying in wait, scoping out how much they could get away with. Asking themselves the question; if I do it again, will they tell someone? If I do it again, will I get away with it again?

And again. And again…

Olivia shuddered. John’s face was stuck in her mind. Their conversation over the phone had all but confirmed to her that he was guilty of Caroline’s accusations, that he was capable of everything he’d been accused of. And if he was capable of that, what else did he have to confess?

“We’ll deal with John when this is all over, when Matilda is safe,” Olivia said firmly. “I think he’s hiding more, but if this kidnapper carries on at their current rate, we’ll learn what else he’s done soon enough. But this is about finding Matilda. If we’re going to figure that out, we need to find someone with a motive to target John. I think we can rule out Caroline; involving her own daughter doesn’t seem likely, and she was scared to tell us about her story. Still, I think it’s someone who knows the family, or at least John, on some sort of level.”

“That could be any number of people. I’m sure in his line of work he meets people all the time.”

“Agreed. And given what has come to light so far, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there with stories to tell. But let’s talk to Inez first. Maybe she can give us a clear picture of the family and their operations now that Ronaldo is behind bars. If things are still up and running then maybe we can turn our attention to the family as a whole.”

“You’ve got it, boss,” Brock said, already standing up and grabbing his jacket. “Where are we heading?”

“She lives in the city, according to the records we have. I guess we’ll start there.”

Inez Pereira’s apartment didn’t look like much from the outside–it was in a high-rise that had seen better days–but Olivia wasn’t surprised that when Inez opened up her door, there was a vision of grandeur behind her. The apartment was a mix of leopard print and red and gold, giving Olivia the feeling that they were really about to step into a lion’s lair. Inez wore red lipstick and dramatic dark curls spilled over her shoulders; a perm, Olivia suspected. She looked like she had never had a stressful day in her life. Even now, she was living in the lap of luxury while her husband served out life in jail. She cocked her head to the side, examining Olivia and Brock from head to toe with a playful smile, like she’d already sussed them out.

“Now, then. Why have I got two narcs outside my door?” she asked, her smile dropping as she folded her arms over her chest. She was chewing gum viciously, her jaw clicking as she picked up the pace. A nervous habit, perhaps, Olivia mused.

“Good eye,” Brock said, flashing her his badge. “We wondered if you’d like to talk to us for a little while.”

Inez smirked. “And why would I want to do that?”

Olivia decided to bend the truth a little. “Because we’re investigating John Grace. The man that—”

“You think I don’t know who John damn Grace is?” Inez snapped. Then a slow smile formed on her lips. “That man? About as crooked as they come.”

“Do you feel like telling us more about that?”

Inez considered it for a moment, chewing gum at incredible speed, like it was matching the speed of her thoughts. Then she sniffed and stepped aside.

“Alright. Come on in, narcs. Wipe your shoes on the mat. I don’t want dirt on my nice carpet.”

The interior of the apartment was a feast for the senses. There was some sort of incense burning, making Olivia’s sinuses burn and her eyes water. There was a large L-shaped sofa covered in decorative leopard print throws, and Inez wore a tracksuit that matched them. It all seemed like a distraction, a way to cover up the fact that the apartment was in a shady neighborhood and wasn’t as luxurious as where Inez had no doubt served out her marriage to Ronaldo previously. Still, she was making the best of her situation. As she sat down on the sofa, Olivia had to remind herself that a woman like Inez was a predator, just like a big cat. Her tracksuit blended into the background and when Inez smiled, she was still easy to overlook, camouflaging her true nature. She might look sweet, but Olivia was well aware that being married to a drug lord for twenty years was never for the faint of heart. She couldn’t allow herself to be the rodent in a game of cat and mouse.

“So. John is crooked?” Olivia asked, raising her eyebrow pointedly. Inez tucked her feet underneath her, a Cheshire cat smile on her lips.

“Oh, sure. If you ask me, he’s as bad as any criminal. Look, I know the kind of man my husband is… but it takes a man like John to corner him. Someone smart, someone cunning and willing to do anything to get what they want. He’s just like my man, really. I know John sent a mole inside the family to dismantle the whole thing. I know he’s comfortable with using dirty tactics and he’d do it all over again.”

Olivia hadn’t been aware of that. It wasn’t in the case file. Then again, perhaps Inez was making the whole thing up, unable to just admit that her husband had been outrun by the law. Maybe it was easier to blame foul play from the other side, the side of law and order, that was.

“Well, I can see how that would make you wary of him. Who was the mole?”

Inez smirked. “It doesn’t matter. They were dealt with.”

“Careful, Inez,” Brock said smoothly. “It makes it sound like you’re alluding to a crime you’re aware of there. Or should we assume that they’re six feet under? We have nothing in our files about a mole.”

Inez shrugged with a sweet smile, blowing a bubble with her gum.

“I don’t suppose you would. John is good at covering his tracks. It’s why he’s so successful. But if anyone can sniff out a bad guy, it’s someone who knows ball. We don’t pretend to be something we’re not, that’s the difference between us and him. And he gets to walk around free as a result.”

Olivia wasn’t really interested in Inez trying to throw John under the bus. That wasn’t what they were there for. In fact, it felt like a way to distract them from her and her own family. But if it kept her talking, she was willing to bite. Inez wasn’t the only one who knew ball.

“Have you ever met John personally?”

Inez shook her head. “Not outside of court. But you don’t need to know a man to know a man. I knew who my Ron was before the end of our first date. A hustler, an overachiever. A man who wanted to spoil a woman. We were a perfect match. We still are.”

“So you’re still in touch with him?” Brock asked.

“You think I would abandon my husband just because he’s behind bars? Did no one ever teach you about the sanctity of marriage, pretty boy?” Inez said, her smile turning a little flirtatious. For possibly the first time ever, Olivia saw Brock blush slightly.

“Marriage is often strained when you can’t be in the same room as one another…”

“Can’t touch each other either,” Inez sighed. “Yes, it’s hard. I miss him. But I suppose I’ve got used to it after eight years. It’s tragic. You really break apart families in your line of work, you know? Or at least, you try.”

Brock frowned. “You make it sound like there was no good reason to put your husband away. I wonder how many families he broke up with the drugs he sold? The ones that killed people? What about the people he outright killed?”

“Brock,” Olivia said quietly and firmly. He was allowing Inez to get under his skin, and she was sitting there lapping it up. She was enjoying it. Olivia knew it was time to change tack and see how she reacted to what they were actually there for. She looked Inez in the eyes.

“Did you know that John Grace’s daughter has disappeared? She was kidnapped. I’m sure it has hit the news by now.”

Inez’s smile didn’t slip for even a moment. She began to examine her nails like they were much more interesting than the conversation. Leopard print, of course.

“Yes, I heard about that. Tragic, really. I’m sure he’s distraught.”

“Any thoughts to share with us on the matter?”

Inez chuckled. “You want to know what my family had to do with it,” Inez said. She reached into her pocket and brought out a pack of cigarettes. She offered the pack to Olivia and Brock, but they both shook their heads. It was a tried and tested distraction tactic, a way to bring their guard down, but Olivia knew better than to bite. Inez shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and puffing on it several times. Buying herself time, Olivia thought.

“Well?” Olivia asked. Inez rolled her eyes.

“We must seem like such an easy target to you. Our leader is behind bars, our family broken apart. There’s a vendetta against John that’ll last a lifetime for what he did to our family. Maybe it will even pass down to the next generation.” There was a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she danced around the subject. “But you’re forgetting one important thing. Ronaldo was the heart of the family. When he went to prison, everything fell apart. And you people rejoiced at the fact that we were left in the rubble. There were questions of whether we would rebuild. But I sit before you, eight years sober. Eight years without him here, and eight years of every day being completely normal. Of being predictable. Everyone’s eyes are on us. If we were still in business, don’t you think we would’ve been caught by now?”

“And Matilda? What about her? Not that I would suggest your family is looking for revenge… but others might. It’s a logical path to take.”

Inez kept eye contact with Olivia as she took another drag on her cigarette. She winked with a smile.

“Like I said, tragic. I’m sure John Grace is terribly upset. But do you see her anywhere, sweetheart? I don’t. You’re welcome to poke around if you want. I don’t think you’ll find her stuffed away in the closet or anything. But what do I know?”

“You know we’re not actually suggesting that she’s here. But you know more than you’re saying, don’t you?” Olivia said. “Perhaps you know who might have her and why. And maybe you don’t want to get involved… maybe you’re happy living here in your apartment and twiddling your thumbs. But I don’t think you’re that dull, are you, Inez? I think you’ve been taking on a little side project to pass your time. Maybe eight years alone has got you thinking about revenge.”

Inez had clearly lost interest in the whole thing, boredom and irritation taking over from her playful smile. She puffed on her cigarette again, staring right into Olivia’s eyes as she did so.

“Look, you may have your opinions of me and my family. Most people do. But I don’t know what makes you think we would steal that young girl from her campus. Yes, it’s no secret the Pereira family are no fans of John Grace. But why would we do this all these years later? What would that achieve?”

“Because you feel your husband deserves justice?” Olivia asked tentatively, but something about Inez was throwing her off her game. Then, Inez gave her such a patronizing look that it made Olivia want to shrivel up.

“Honey, be for real. My husband was a drug lord. I loved my life with him and I wouldn’t change a thing, but he was no innocent man. Just like I’m no innocent woman. Our reign came to an end and we all moved on with our lives. We knew that was always a risk, and I was willing to take it to be on top of the world with him. But those days are behind us now, and I can’t change what happened. I can only focus on what happens to me now. Why would I risk even more? I can’t go to prison. I’d never see my husband again.” She rolled her eyes, stubbing out her cigarette and reaching for another one. “And besides, if I wanted to hurt John Grace, going through his daughter wouldn’t be the way I’d do it.”

Olivia frowned. “What would make you say that?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you? That man doesn’t care one bit about his daughter. I watched every TV appearance he made with his family for years. I was obsessed with the man, hoping to see some sign of suffering in him for what he did to my family. But it was her that was suffering. She was a prop to him, a way to give him more status and approval from the public. You watch back any of those appearances and he’s gripping her like he’s forcing her to stay there. She looked miserable every single time. And now that she’s older, she wants nothing to do with him. She changed her legal name to her mother’s maiden name. Yeah, I noticed that on the news. I don’t know what went on between the two of them, but she was always scowling like a little brat when she was around him. Yes, there’s something going on there.”

“So answer us this,” Brock said. “Why would the kidnappers use her, if all of this is so obvious? If she’s irrelevant, then why is she there?”

“Because it’s all a test,” Inez said solemnly. “A way to bring attention to him, to see how he’ll react. Someone really has it out for him, and they know more than he would like them to. They know that his daughter isn’t important to him, but they have to bring this all to the media’s attention somehow. They’re trying to get something from him, and little Matilda is just a puppet in the show of it all. Threatening to kill her only makes him scared because of how it’ll affect his image if he doesn’t get her home.”

It was a sobering revelation, and not one that Olivia was ready to dismiss. Because everything Inez was saying made sense to Olivia. John had already revealed himself, whether he knew it or not. His image was slowly starting to crack, revealing the levels of rot beneath the surface. If Inez could see it, if Caroline was finally talking about it, how long would it be before the truth of John Grace unraveled fully?

Inez sighed, stretching her legs out along the sofa, seeming more feline by the second.

“If you really think we’re connected, then by all means do what you’ve got to do. I don’t want to see another young woman dead because of the actions of a selfish man,” Inez said, lazily leaning off the sofa to stub out her cigarette on her coffee table. “You have permission to search my apartment, my records, whatever. I’ll tell the rest of the family to let you in too. But you won’t find what you’re looking for. Don’t waste your time with us. Go back to him. To John. If you figure out how he’s upset the person behind this, you’ll find Matilda. Whatever it is, it’s personal. And whatever it is, be fast. They’re angry with him. They will do anything to hurt him.” Inez’s eyes met Olivia’s. “I know bad seeds, and whoever is doing this is as bad as they come. They’ll kill Matilda just to get a tear from John’s eyes, even if it’s not guaranteed. Move fast or watch her die.”

Seeing John again was going to be one of the hardest moments of Olivia’s career. She knew that as she and Brock pulled up outside his house, armed with information that they couldn’t tell him if they wanted to keep their suspicions about him quiet. She knew that looking that man in the eye, knowing how he’d hurt his wife and his daughter, was going to be near impossible. But that information was certainly relevant to finding Matilda. The sins, Dante’s Divine Comedy, John’s indiscretions… it was all connected. They just needed to figure out what drew the three things together and, more importantly, who had connected the dots in the first place to pull this off. This was no ordinary kidnapping, and Olivia was certain that they would need to think outside of the box to figure it out.

“Just keep a level head,” Olivia murmured as they walked up to the house.

“Are you talking to me or yourself?” Brock asked. Olivia chewed her lip.

“Maybe both. I think this case is testing us both.”

“It’s going to be okay. But we need to see John. We need to put out some feelers with him and see what he might have come up with. Clearly, he’s not willing to admit what he’s done to be accused of wrath…but if the pattern of the sins keeps coming up, maybe he’ll confess to some of his lesser crimes. We need to apply the pressure as calmly as we can. Remind him that he’s the one on trial here.”

“He won’t like that.”

“It’s past the point of his hurt feelings mattering. He needs to make a confession, true or not, to appease the kidnappers. Or else we’re going to be given more and more clues from them. I imagine each one will get more incriminating than the last.”

“Worse than abusing his wife and daughter?”

“It’s possible.”

The thought was unsettling. How dark did John’s secrets get? How deep of a hole had he dug for himself? If he wasn’t willing to say, then the kidnappers were going to carry on the torture, slowly peeling back the Band-aid he’d stuck over his problems. And yet, somehow, that was the desired outcome. The quicker those secrets came out, the quicker they could get Matilda home to safety. Only then could they deal with the fallout.

John looked awful when he opened the door to them a few minutes later. He clearly hadn’t slept and there was an unpleasant stale odor emanating from him, like he had forgotten to shower for a while and had also drunk one or six too many beers. A few days ago, Olivia might have felt sorry for him, maybe offered him some words of comfort. But now she was almost certain that his own actions were keeping him up at night, not worry for his daughter. Now, she was almost glad to see that he was suffering, even if it was for all of the wrong reasons.

“Come inside quickly,” John snapped, ushering them in. “I don’t want you drawing attention to the house.”

Olivia and Brock exchanged a quick glance. It seemed John was no longer interested in keeping up appearances around them. Politeness had gone out of the window since their phone call with him in the middle of the night. Olivia was open to it, though. The angrier he got and the more the pressure built on him, the more likely he was to have an outburst and confess to them why he was being targeted in the first place.

Olivia had wondered a little about the other sins since speaking to Caroline and what they might represent in John’s case. She counted them off in her head. Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. They already knew now, thanks to Caroline, what wrath he had been accused of. She had suggested that gluttony could be to do with his drinking habits and had fed his wrath. It would make sense, given how grumpy he was while also clearly nursing a hangover. But what about the others? Greed was interesting. Did he abandon his family in the pursuit of money? That would be an easy argument to make. And what about lust? Caroline hadn’t mentioned any affairs, but then again, that all paled in comparison to what else she had endured through John. Perhaps it had slipped her mind. Or perhaps she simply didn’t know about what he got up to behind her back. Olivia could only theorize, but the more she learned about John, the more each of these imagined crimes seemed possible.

“Don’t just stand around. We’ve got work to do,” John said, slamming the door behind Olivia and breaking her out of her thoughts. Her expression hardened involuntarily.

She met his eyes with a cold gaze, just for a moment. He seemed a little unnerved by the challenge in her glance. Good, Olivia thought. She wasn’t about to let this awful little man intimidate her.

“Perhaps you could watch your tone. We’re here to help,” Olivia reminded him, her voice steady and level. John glanced at Brock, who Olivia noticed looked equally as irritable now. John had chosen the wrong day to raise his voice at them.

John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He managed to drum up an expression that looked close to guilt.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Please, take your time.”

“I was just thinking about the case,” Olivia said before he could press on with any further buttering up. “And about what was written on your old house. If the kidnapper proceeds in this fashion, then we can gather that you will be accused of other sins too. The seven deadly ones. Are you aware of what those are, John?”

“I… I’m sure I know them…”

“Greed. Gluttony. Sloth. Lust. Envy, pride and of course, wrath,” Brock listed off. “I’m sure we’re all guilty of sinning every now and then… but we’re looking for leads here. They’re going to go for the jugular and try to out you for instances of each, I would guess. The kidnapper is placing importance on these words and we need to know why that is. The ball is in your court, John. It’s you that has the key to getting her back. What can you tell us about how you associate with those words, off the top of your head?”

“Have you come up with any confessions while we’ve been away?” Olivia asked bluntly. John shook his head, still visibly shaken by the snappy interaction that had followed his own outburst.

“No. I can’t think of a single thing…”

“They’re going to want a confession out of you at some point… one way or another,” Olivia pressed. “Your daughter’s life is at stake. I think you need to consider saying something. Giving them what they want. But they’re looking for something specific. They don’t want just any old statement of regret. They want real stuff. Dig deep, John. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

“Nothing!” John cried out. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the target here!”

“Exactly. And the kidnapper knows something they can use against you. Do you think they will stop at a little graffiti? This person intends to ruin your life if you fail to comply. Beyond Matilda, beyond any threats they’ve made so far, there’s going to be more to this, and you know it. They’re coming for your reputation.”

“It’s slander!” John said through gritted teeth. “I won’t confess to something I haven’t done. I will not give in to bullying tactics.”

“If you don’t do something soon, your daughter may die,” Olivia said. And it’s all your fault she’s in this position to begin with, she wished she could say. She gave him a hard stare, hoping she could convey to him everything she wasn’t allowed to say out loud. We know who you are and what you’ve done, she thought. The intensity of her shared look with John seemed to be throwing him off. She hadn’t expected to come in so heavy handed, but she was beginning to see that nothing else would work with him. He might be smart, but he was also prone to reverting to his innate instincts, the anger and violence that drove him through his life. She needed him to see that he was under threat, that he wasn’t untouchable anymore. And to do that, she also had to let him know that she wasn’t afraid to lock horns with him. Whatever it took, she would extract a confession from him.

But she could see that nothing she had said had gotten through. John just looked angrier than ever.

“What are you even doing here if you’re not going to see me through this? You have no interest in helping me. You’re just trying to put words in my mouth to make this right, but I can’t confess to something I haven’t done.”

“You know that’s not how this works,” Brock said. “They’re not doing this for the fun of it. Why do you think they’re doing it? Who have you upset to such an extent that they’re trying to topple you?”

“No one,” John hissed. “This is ridiculous. Why have you not come up with another solution instead of trying to make me say things that aren’t true? I am not guilty. I have nothing to confess. If you’re not on my side, then what are we even doing here?”

“We’re trying to get you to see sense,” Olivia said. “Don’t you understand that there will be consequences here if you don’t comply? That people will get hurt? No, not people. Your only daughter.”

“My daughter hasn’t spoken to me in years,” John eventually snapped. Olivia raised an eyebrow. Well. There it is. His breaking point had come much sooner than she had expected. But that was a good thing. They needed him broken, backed into a corner of his own creation. Now that he was there, they might be able to force him into action.

“And why is that, John?” Olivia asked. “Your old home is spray-painted with the word ‘wrath’. In red letters, bold and bright for all to see. I don’t think it’s been scrubbed away yet.”

“It’s a lie!”

“Why would someone lie about this? You need to take this seriously. This isn’t just a baseless threat. They know things, things that will come to light to everyone soon enough. Maybe no one will register that it’s your home yet. But what happens when the kidnapper releases that image to the press? What happens when you keep withholding the truth and the accusations keep coming? What happens to you?”

John and Olivia faced one another, both of them breathing hard, the tension thick enough to suck the air from the room. John stared into Olivia’s eyes, perhaps trying to ascertain what she knew. She stared back, silently promising him that she knew the darkness in him. It was knowledge she could use or manipulate if she needed to.

And that seemed to be dawning on John all at once.

But instead of giving into it, anger seemed to rise inside him once again. With fury in his eyes, he stepped away from the door, pointing them to it.

“Go. I don’t need this. I don’t need your help any longer. I’ll figure this out alone.”

“This is our case, John,” Brock said. “You can’t dismiss us from it.”

“I can refuse you entry to my home, can’t I? I still have that right, don’t I?”

Olivia wasn’t about to argue any further. They had already said everything that they could. Now, it was going to be a test of patience and hope. Hope that John would eventually see some kind of sense.

“Come on,” Olivia said to Brock, stepping to the door. The moment Brock stepped outside, the door was slammed behind them. Olivia rolled her shoulders back, trying to relieve some of the tension that John seemed to have planted in them. He was exhausting to be around, a drain on her energy like she had never faced before.

“So much for keeping a level head,” Brock sighed as they walked back to the car. Olivia shook her head.

“I was wrong. He needed to get in a fight with us. That needed to happen. He needs to understand the stakes. And when he does, I think we’ll be hearing from him again. Once he realizes he doesn’t have a hope in the world, he’ll need us again.”

“I would happily never see that man’s face again,” Brock said, shaking his head. He gently put his hand on Olivia’s shoulder before she could get in the car. “Hey… are you okay? That was a lot in there.”

“I’m fine,” Olivia said.

“Are you sure? I didn’t step in because I assumed you knew what you were doing, riling him up that way… but I was ready to go to battle for you, I hope you know that.”

Olivia smiled. “Of course I know that. You always are. But I don’t need you to fight wars for me, Brock. You’re not the only soldier here.”

“I know,” Brock said, stepping toward her and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to look out for you, though.”

“Well, I appreciate it either way,” Olivia said with a smile. “But I’m absolutely fine. I can hold my own. I just hope this doesn’t backfire in some way. I was hoping to keep him on our side, but he was ready for a fight the moment we stepped through that door. We can’t keep fighting nature. Hopefully word doesn’t get back to Hugh Calvin about what happened, though.”

“I’ll fight in your corner if John makes a complaint. Hugh doesn’t know everything we know. It was the right move. Besides, I trust you, so he should too.”

Olivia smiled. “Someone is buttering me up this morning.”

Brock grinned back. “I’m just in awe of you, my love. I can’t help hyping you up. And by the way… seeing you go to head-to-head with John like that, taking him down a few notches… it was kinda hot.”

Olivia burst out a snort of laughter. “Now you’re really trying to butter me up.”

Brock kissed her cheek and opened the car door for her. “Get in, buttercup. We have work to do.”

Olivia and Brock took their afternoon work to a coffee shop in the city. Neither of them had slept much since the start of the case and coffee was a must-need item. Even Brock seemed much more interested in his coffee than the large BLT sandwich sitting in front of him.

Olivia was in stalker mode on Matilda’s social media profile. The account itself had few life updates. It was just full of aesthetic photographs that she’d taken since starting college. There weren’t any people in her photographs, and there were only fifteen photos in total, all with hundreds of likes. It was fascinating, trying to ascertain who Matilda was by looking at those few photographs. Someone well liked, or admired, judging by the response to her photos. Someone with quiet talent, who didn’t necessarily put herself in the center of her own life, or even center people in it either. Maybe she was someone who struggled to trust after all she’d seen growing up. Someone who was an observer of the world first and a participant second. Hadn’t Caroline said that much about her? That her daughter saw the world more clearly than most?

“She’s popular,” Brock said, leaning over her shoulder. “Over a thousand followers and she only follows twenty. It looks like people knew her around campus, at least for her photos. Everything about her so far that we’ve learned makes me think that she’s more… I don’t know. Not introverted, but… off the radar?”

Olivia glanced at the photos again.

“I think that maybe she is. She’s not in these photos. She’s just the photographer. Well, not just the photographer… but it’s a faceless account. It only has her name on it to identify her, nothing else.”

“Are you sure this is her main account?” Brock asked.

“What do you mean?”

Brock raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, most teenagers have two places where they post: one that’s family approved, and another that shows the fun side of life. What if she has one of those fun accounts where she posts things about her friends, about her day-to-day life?”

“This is the account her mom sent me…”

“Exactly. Moms aren’t meant to see the fun accounts, right? It’s for being silly and free and maybe posting stuff parents shouldn’t see… Mom would be none the wiser if she had another account, right? Check who she is following.”

Olivia clicked on the ‘following’ list at the top of Matilda’s profile. A short group of accounts popped up. Some Olivia could place right away: Samara, Maddie, Chelsea and Hannah were all on there. Then she saw Bridge’s account, which made her feel a little uneasy. It wasn’t usual for a student to follow their professor on socials, surely?

“There,” Brock said. “That account there. Tildatime.”

And there it was. The fun account. The one Matilda didn’t want her mom to know about. Olivia clicked on it, feeling hopeful, but the feeling faded when she saw that the account was private. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Typical,” she said. She clicked the follower request button anyway, tapping her fingers on the table. “I wonder if any of her friends would be able to show us her feed? Or maybe they could guess at her password? We need to see what’s on the account…”

But to their shock, the follower request was immediately accepted. All of a sudden, they went from staring at a blank, locked feed to over a hundred pictures of varying quality, filled with pictures of nights out, of friends laughing, and silly expressions. Olivia glanced at Brock in horror.

“Surely she didn’t accept the friend request herself…so was it the kidnapper? Who else would have access to her account?”

“It could be one of her friends, maybe…but I doubt it. Something tells me we’re being messed with here.”

“Or guided to the truth,” Olivia whispered. “The kidnapper is looking for a confession from John. They’re sending us clues by sending those videos… maybe they’re letting us in because there’s something on here they want us to see. Something we need to know about John.”

Olivia fast scrolled all the way back to the first picture on the account. It was an image of Hannah grinning, her teeth bared close to the camera. Caption: new bestie acquired.

“Cute,” Brock said. “Not exactly what we’re looking for, though.”

Olivia scrolled through a few images. The photos had a lot more personality than her main account, and were all accompanied by funny captions. There was one of Samara where a mirror behind her had distorted her head to make it larger. Caption: Figurehead? There was a photo of Maddie asleep, mouth gaping, a fake beard drawn on her chin. It was posted on Father’s Day. Caption: Happy dead dad day. Thanks for being my father figure.

“If John could see this…” Brock said with an amused chuckle. “Surely this isn’t what the kidnapper intended us to see, though?”

“We’re not done looking yet, be patient,” Olivia said huffily, scrolling slowly through the pictures. She felt sure that there was some gold waiting to be mined among these photos. For one, it showed them a side of Matilda they hadn’t yet seen. Gone was the sullen girl from photo opportunities with her father, replaced with a carefree young woman. A woman who didn’t look concerned about being kidnapped or anything of the like. She looked like she didn’t have a care in the world.

And then, all of a sudden the photographs changed. Or at least, the focus of them did. Matilda was posting more of herself, a confident glow radiating from her smile. And then there were casual pictures of hands joined together in different locations, no faces included. Olivia sat up a little straighter.

“The mystery man,” she muttered. She scrolled faster now, hoping to get a glimpse of his face.

And then, suddenly, there he was. A handsome guy with dark curls and sharp stubble on his jawline. A guy with eyes that were almost too green, standing out against his tan skin. In the photo, Matilda is hanging off him, grinning up at him. He’s not smiling in the photo, staring directly at the camera as if he wanted to push it away. Olivia’s breath was stolen from her lungs.

Who was this guy?

“This has to be him. It has to,” Olivia said. “Maddie and Chelsea were being super cagey about him, saying they’d never met him. But look…”

In the background of the photo, Maddie was grinning at them like a proud parent. The entire photo aside from the guy seemed so happy and full of energy. It made his coldness seem even more disturbing.

“He could be relevant,” Olivia said. “We need to find him and speak to him, ask why his relationship with Matilda has been treated like one huge secret. Especially now that we know the girls lied to us.”

“But why would the kidnapper want us to see this if he’s involved? They’re the one that let us into this space, clearly. But what does it mean? How is it relevant?”

“Maybe this is to taunt us,” Olivia said. “To make a bold move, to show who is in charge here. I don’t know. All I know is that we need to find the name of this guy and hunt him down.”

Olivia screenshotted the photo and went back to the list of people that Matilda followed on her socials. She found Maddie immediately. Fortunately, her own profile wasn’t private. Olivia immediately sent her a message, attaching her screenshotted photo.

You lied to us about Matilda’s boyfriend. What’s that about? We need the truth, now.

Only a few seconds passed before Maddie opened the message. Though she could only stare at the screen and wait for a response, Olivia could practically feel Maddie’s anxiety at being caught radiating through the phone.

I’m sorry. Tilda made us promise never to talk about him to anyone. I was torn. I know the circumstances have changed, that this is important, but I was just trying to be a good friend.

Olivia shook her head. She knew Maddie must have had her reasons for lying, and yet she didn’t have time for her excuses. She needed answers, now. It was time to apply the pressure.

Who is he?

There was a pause before Maddie began to type again, three small dots wiggling on the screen as she crafted her answer.

His name is Duarte Pereira.

Olivia blinked several times at the name on the screen. “Oh my God… is he…”

“He must be one of Ronaldo’s sons,” Brock breathed.

Duarte was now their sole priority. Knowing who his father was and the threats he’d made against John in the past, it was a no-brainer to interview him, at least. Olivia knew that it could be no coincidence that he was dating Matilda at the time she went missing. The world was too big for a pair like Duarte and Matilda to simply cross paths. No, there had to be more to the tale. Perhaps that was even why Matilda insisted on keeping their relationship a secret. Was it possible that she knew about the family he belonged to, and yet dated him anyway, convinced he would be different for her? Or perhaps it was to anger her father? Either way, it had ended badly now. Now, she had been stolen away, leaving John’s life and reputation in tatters. It would explain a lot: how the kidnapper had so much information about John and his apparent indiscretions. If Matilda trusted Duarte enough, perhaps she’d told him everything Duarte would need to know to take down her father in one fell swoop, not knowing the consequences it would have.

They had to act fast before Duarte or Inez discovered that they were being chased. Olivia and Brock left the café where they’d been drinking coffee, anxiously heading for their car. As soon as they were inside, they looked at one another, determining their next steps.

“We need to find his last known address,” Brock said. Olivia already had her phone out.

“I wonder if Maddie will know where he’s been staying,” she said, already messaging Maddie. She got a response moments later.

He’s living off campus, a few miles from the university. I can send you the address.

“Finally, someone who is being useful,” Olivia said, waiting for the address to come through.

“It took a little pushing,” Brock said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, at least she finally caved. I understand girl code, but she took it too far. This is important.” Olivia scanned the address on her phone. “Looks like we’re flying out to New Haven again.”

“I’ll drive. You sort the rest.”

Several hours later, they were on their way. As soon as they landed, they found a rental car and headed to the address they’d been given. Olivia could feel adrenaline coursing through her veins. Were they about to find the person who had taken Matilda?

Were they about to find her?

It seemed unlikely that someone who had gone to so much trouble to pull off a kidnapping would keep their victim in a small shared house only a few miles away from the scene of the crime, especially someone who was likely being manipulated by their major crime lord father, but Olivia was holding out hope.

But she knew she had to prepare for the fact that they might not find either of them. Perhaps Duarte had the sense to bolt, especially given that they’d already paid Inez a visit. Perhaps this was going to be a waste of time. But she could hope. Sometimes in cases like these, hope was the one thing that kept her going.

They were closing in on the house. It was late now, the neighborhood asleep, the street dark. It took Olivia a moment to pick out Duarte’s house in the lineup, but there were still lights on inside the home. Olivia prepared herself for a runner. She was sure that Duarte would bolt the moment they turned up on his doorstep.

“Are we doing this?” she asked. Brock nodded in affirmation, checking his gun in his holster.

“Let’s go.”

They walked in tandem up the driveway. There was no doorbell so they knocked, ready for anything. There were multiple voices coming from inside the house, and Olivia tensed. She wanted Duarte to come to the door, so they could get the drop on him.

She recognized him the moment the door opened. She could see how a girl like Matilda could be hoodwinked by a guy like him. His handsome features creased in apparent confusion at the two people standing on his doorstep.

“Yo… can I help you?” he asked. He looked tired.

“Duarte Pereira?” Brock asked. His ears seemed to perk up.

“Yeah… who wants to know?”

“We want to chat with you about something. Your girlfriend, Matilda Bennett. Or, more properly, Matilda Grace,” Olivia said. Duarte’s eyes widened. He glanced from side to side, clearly looking for somewhere to run. For a split second, he tensed up, clearly about to dart away.

“I don’t think so, buddy,” Brock said, stepping over to block him and looming large. “And don’t think about calling your friends for backup. If you’ve got nothing to hide then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I haven’t done anything!” Duarte cried out.

“Then you won’t mind coming with us, will you?” Olivia asked. Duarte hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. When he seemed to realize he was on his own he sighed, nodding.

“Alright. I’ll come.”

“Good man,” Brock said, putting a hand on his back to escort him to the car. “This won’t take long.”

They commandeered a room in the local police station to interview Duarte in private. Olivia wanted Duarte to see the seriousness of the situation, and she felt that being inside the station could only help their case. He seemed anxious from the get-go, his fingers locked and his hands bouncing up and down on the metal table that sat between him and Olivia. Brock and Olivia both kept their gazes steady on Duarte before they even began to talk. In this case, Olivia felt intimidation would go a long way. A young lad like him might break easily under such pressure.

“I’m sure you know why we wanted to bring you in today,” Olivia said pointedly. Duarte scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Because of Tilda. Because you assume I had something to do with her being kidnapped.”

“Your words, not ours,” Brock said. Duarte scowled.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m an easy target. I’m sure you know who my father is by now. But you can’t choose your family,” Duarte said seriously.

Olivia gave him a once-over. He had a strong chin, broad shoulders, and bright, intelligent eyes. But he looked older than his twenty-three years, a tired look about him that she had noted in the photograph of him on Matilda’s social media. Was being an easy target something he was used to? Was he like the family punching bag? Admittedly, he didn’t look like some kind of criminal mastermind.

But looks could be deceiving. And with the Pereira blood running in his veins, he was almost guilty by association.

“What is it that makes you an easy target, Duarte? The fact that your family business is crime, or that you’re dating the daughter of the man who put your father away for life?” Brock asked with a cock of his head. The comment almost made Olivia want to smile. But Duarte had no hint of a smile on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair like a petulant schoolboy.

“Tilda is my girlfriend. That’s all you need to know. I care about her. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

“But you expect us to believe that it’s a coincidence that the pair of you are dating? Of all the girls in the world, you just found yourself dating John Grace’s daughter? The man your father threatened with revenge eight years ago after being sentenced to life in prison. Did he think that we would’ve forgotten all about that threat? He hates your girlfriend’s father. And we’re supposed to think that there’s no motivation behind you dating her?”

“There isn’t.”

“She’s missing, Duarte. We have to assume that all these dots connect when they’re lining up in a row,” Brock said. “The question is, why would you let this happen if you care about her so much?”

“You’re not listening to me,” Duarte said, slamming his hands down on the table. “You ask questions, but it’s like you don’t want to know the answers! I’m telling the truth. I would never ever do anything to hurt her, do you hear me? Tilda is…she’s my entire world. When she disappeared, I was out all night searching for her, calling her, hoping she had just lost her phone or something. But then I saw the news and I knew that someone did this to her. I knew I would be a suspect if anyone found out about us so I didn’t come forward, but only because of what you said. What was it—guilty by association? You proved me right there, didn’t you? And I swear, if I knew anything about where she was or who had taken her, I would have come straight to the police. Damn the consequences!”

“And what consequences would those be? Us catching you right in a lie, maybe? Backlash from your family?” Olivia pressed. Duarte gritted his teeth.

“This has nothing to do with my family. I told you that already. I just mean… my family wouldn’t have approved if they knew the whole story.”

Brock openly glowered. “So you’re saying your family isn’t involved in you dating Matilda? That we should overlook the fact that Ronaldo Pereira’s own son has been dating a girl directly connected to the downfall of your family? Forgive us if we don’t believe you, kid.”

Duarte let out a puff of irritable air. “Alright, look, that’s how it started. I was told to pursue her. She had just moved to Yale, changed her name, cut off her association with her father. My stepmother, Inez, she wanted me to pursue her. She said it was to keep an eye on her, that it probably wouldn’t come into play. She just wanted to be ready in case the family ever needed to make a move on hers. I’ve always been the black sheep of the family, never really playing by their rules. I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. I never did. I was determined to go out on my own. But it was tiring, always going against the grain, and it wasn’t easy being the one the whole family saw as unreliable… back then, when they gave me the assignment, I just wanted to do something right for once. But the second I met Tilda… I knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with anything they asked of me. She’s just this beautiful person. So full of laughter, so full of love and joy… I fell for her right away, man. I tried not to, I really did. I had all of these expectations in the back of my mind, all of the things I should have been doing weighing on my mind. But they went out of the window pretty much the night we met.”

Duarte sighed sullenly for a second. Then a small smile played on his lips. “Did you ever meet someone and it just… clicks? And you know that your life will never be the same again? Because that person just gets you, you know?”

Brock and Olivia exchanged a quick glance. Duarte was too in his own head to notice.

“...and you know that you’ll never be seen so clearly again. She saw all the hurt in me. She saw all my pain and she understood. She and I, we’ve lived similar lives. Led by men who want to hold the world in their hands and will sacrifice others to get it if they have to. And that was when I realized that our families might hate one another, but that didn’t mean we had to. We could be happy. We didn’t need to worry about their opinions any longer. Us against the world.”

“The star-crossed lovers spin, huh?” Olivia asked. “Well, Romeo, answer us this. How did she respond when she figured out you were a plant, huh?”

Duarte’s expression darkened. He looked away, unable to meet Olivia’s gaze.

“I never told her. I mean… she knew who I was, who my father was. But as far as she was concerned, I didn’t know who she or her father were. Why should I be aware when she had changed her name? She spun me the same tale that she told everyone, that her father was dead and that it was just her and her mom. She was living under her mom’s name as well. I think once I revealed who I was, she considered her options, wondered whether to tell me the truth… and I guess she suspected too that I could have been there as a plant. But she seemed to push that aside. And we’ve been together for nearly a year now.”

“A relationship built on lies,” Brock said coolly. “That sounds healthy.”

“I don’t expect anyone to understand,” Duarte said, shaking his head to himself. “But I’m not here to prove myself to you. At least not in that way. You wanted to know what I had to do with her disappearance, and the answer is nothing. It wasn’t me and it wasn’t my family. My family is guilty of a lot, but not of this. I swear to you, I would never allow that to happen. She was supposed to come over the night she disappeared, right after her mystery club thing. She never showed up.” Duarte swallowed. “I made an anonymous call to the police that night, said I was concerned, but I was dismissed. It wasn’t until Hannah reported her missing that it was taken seriously. I’ve been sitting around, waiting for answers. I’ve called every member of my family, hoping that maybe they knew something. Part of me wanted them to be involved, then at least I would have some control, some bargaining power, maybe. But they swear down to me that this has nothing to do with them. They weren’t prepared to make any kind of moves yet, according to them. Please, you need to listen to what I’m telling you here. If I knew more, I would tell you.”

Olivia examined Duarte carefully and coolly. She was inclined to believe that he was telling the truth. She could see the insistence on his face, hear the distress in his tone. She was inclined to believe him. But she also knew he came from a long line of master manipulators. Lying and deceiving was their full-time job. Was he telling them half-truths to get them on his side before pulling the rug out from beneath them? Olivia sighed, wondering how to explore a new angle and probe further.

“If all of this is true, then why were all of Matilda’s friends so reluctant to tell us about you? Why did you and Matilda keep your relationship so under wraps?”

Duarte sighed. “I’m assuming you saw some photo of us together online, right? I told her to be more careful. She kept insisting that her private account was for friends only, that no one else could see us. I didn’t want my family to see us together like that, and I’m sure she didn’t want her family to know either. Obviously they told me to date her, to get involved, but they never wanted it to get deep, they just wanted a thread they could pull some day if it became useful to them. And the more I got to know her, the more it concerned me how much we cared for each other. I was worried about putting her in harm’s way. She knew that too. I told her my family history… all of it aside from knowing that it was her dad that ended our family’s legacy. So she knew that there was danger between us. But it didn’t bother her. I don’t know if it was maybe some secret rebellion against her father… who knows. I hope it wasn’t just that. I think she cares for me as much as I care for her. But whatever this is between us, it’s not a device any longer. Not for either of us. It’s all just… confusing and weird and kinda messed up. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Except I want her to come home to me. I need…I need to know that she’s okay.”

“If that is the case… then you wouldn’t withhold anything from us, would you?” Brock asked. “You would do anything to make sure she’s okay? Anything in your power?”

“Yes,” Duarte said plainly. “I would. Look, do what you want with me. Keep me here if you want, I won’t fight it. But you’ll see. When you find her, you’ll see that it has nothing to do with me. And if you find her for me? I’ll worship the ground you walk on. I’ll kiss your damn feet. I’d do anything to see her again, to know she’s okay. I’d lay down and die, I really would. She’s my world. It ain’t worth being here without her.”

Olivia sat back in her chair, defeated by Duarte’s plain talking. The more he said, the more she was sure he was telling the truth. It was hard to explain away the look of pain in his eyes. He seemed like a guy wearing his heart on his sleeve. But nothing was ever certain in this line of work. She knew she couldn’t be swayed by a sweet love story just because it was lush enough to give her a toothache. Blindly believing this tale wouldn’t bring Matilda home. Only pushing until the limit would allow her to be rescued.

“You’re free to go for now,” Olivia said eventually. “But don’t go far. We might want to talk to you again.”

“I’ll be around,” Duarte said with a firm nod, not breaking eye contact with Olivia. “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in. You call me, night or day. And swear to me you’ll tell me the moment you find her.”

Olivia made no such promise, but she did allow Duarte to put his number into her phone. After he had left, Brock and Olivia sat for a few moments in silence, taking in the performance they had just seen.

“Any thoughts?” Olivia asked Brock. He sighed.

“Either he’s given us a thorough hoodwinking or he’s telling the truth. I’m leaning towards the latter. He seems to really care about her.”

“I thought the same. I just… I just can’t commit to it completely. It’s all too convenient. Too strange. But he admitted that his family told him to get involved in the first place. Would he betray them like that if he didn’t care about her? Or is it just a red herring to get us on his side?”

Brock sighed. “I guess time will tell. But there goes our best lead so far. If this whole thing really has nothing to do with the Pereiras wanting revenge, then we need to find a new angle.”

“And fast,” Olivia said. “Before something undoable happens.”

It was the following day, once they’d made it back to the city, when Olivia received another call from John Grace. It was expected, but sooner than she had anticipated. His sudden return caused a hot feeling to run from her throat to her stomach like bile. She wanted nothing to do with the man, and he wanted nothing to do with her, but unfortunately, they needed one another. She pursed her lips as she looked at his name on her phone, debating holding off on him. But then she remembered that the key to finding Matilda was through John. He had all of the answers, they just needed to force him to unlock them. Olivia took a steadying breath and prepared herself as she picked up the call.

“Good morning, John,” she said as calmly as she could muster. He didn’t speak right away, though she heard him exhale slowly on the other end of the line. It looked like she wasn’t the only one who needed some steadying breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “About how things went the other day. I was rude and callous and caught up in my own frustrations. I shouldn’t have dismissed you so quickly the other day.”

“I assume you’ve had some kind of breakthrough?” Olivia said. She wasn’t interested in his false apologies. But if he was calling, that either meant he was finally willing to confess… or he’d received another threat from the kidnapper.

“They sent me another video,” John said after a moment’s pause. Olivia rolled her eyes. She should have known that was the only real option.

“I see. And you’d like us to come and take a look at it?”

“I can send it to you, if you’d prefer.”

Olivia was tempted to gloat. Clearly John didn’t want to be anywhere near her again if he could help it. She was certain he wouldn’t be able to keep his temper in check a second time, and he knew it too. Still, it suited her fine. She didn’t have any desire to be in the same room as him either.

“Okay. Send it over. Stay on the line while we watch it.”

The video hit her phone moments later. Brock leaned in to watch it with her.

This time, there was another house in the shot. This one was much grander than John’s old home, big enough to fit multiple families inside. It was almost like a hotel, or a stately home. It was guarded by a huge metal gate, but even the gate couldn’t protect the house from the kidnapper’s graffiti.

Scrawled in blood-red lettering in front of the gate was John’s next sin.

“Lust,” Olivia said out loud. She pressed the phone back to her ear. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell us what this house is or what it means to you? You must have been here before, right?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Olivia waited a full ten seconds, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. John didn’t make a sound. She shook her head to herself. She was unsure why she even bothered.

“Give us a call if there are any updates. Or if you decide to cooperate,” Olivia said before promptly ending the call. Brock chuckled as she slid her phone back into her pocket.

“Your hatred of this man is becoming a great source of entertainment.”

“He’s a useless scumbag. He calls us for help and he’s not even willing to help himself. What does he think we’re going to do now? Not look into it? He’s just wasting our time when he could be honest and spell it out to us what this is all about. Though I’m sure whatever this house means only spells further trouble for him,” Olivia said. “But that means we need to find it and figure out its story. Do you think we can reverse image search the house? It might be the quickest way to get an idea of where it is.”

But nothing came up when they tried. Olivia was almost tempted to message Matilda’s social media account and ask the kidnapper for a clue. After all, it seemed like the more mysteries they solved, the happier the kidnapper was, and the kidnapper seemed to have all of the knowledge they needed. This was an exposé, after all. Maybe not in a traditional sense, but these videos were designed to show the world John Grace’s deepest, darkest secrets. For now, they remained in the hands of the FBI, but how long would that last once the kidnapper decided that John’s confession was taking too long?

But working with a kidnapper was a dangerous notion, and one that couldn’t be risked unless absolutely necessary. The information they gathered would eventually have to stand up in court, and being drip-fed information by a criminal wouldn’t be a good look for them. No, they had to figure it out themselves. Olivia knew it and the kidnapper likely did too; that’s why they weren’t just telling them everything outright.

“How do we find this place?” Brock mused. Olivia closed her eyes and put her mind to work.

“Lust,” she murmured. “A place for him to get his kicks. If we’re running by the timeline of his marriage, then are we assuming that his sin was cheating on Caroline at this house? That would be my first thought. I mean, technically a single man being lustful isn’t so much of a sin, is it? And they were married from a young age. He must have been coming here to… I don’t know. Maybe he took his mistress here? It could be a hotel or something.”

“Okay… so assume that’s true. We’re looking for somewhere close by, probably. Somewhere that he can easily access on a regular basis. But this place looks massive. It might as well be housing a queen. And I’ve never seen a hotel guarded by a gate. So it could be someone of great status who lives here… but it’s risky for them, to be seeing someone so high profile in such a manner. For both parties involved.”

Olivia stared at the image for a long time. Brock was right; hotels weren’t usually fronted with a gate. But the more she stared at the image, at the wide windows and the long driveway, the more she felt certain it wasn’t someone’s house. And what would land John in trouble? Not simply just an affair; his marriage had broken down years ago. No, this was something more…

“What if it’s not a home?” Olivia whispered. “But a… pleasure house, to put it gently.”

“That’s illegal,” Brock said, almost blushing. Olivia smiled.

“Aren’t most things that we deal with illegal, Brock? Is prostitution where your limits lie?”

“Of course not,” Brock said, though his face was redder than ever. “It just surprises me that John would take such a risk. I mean, he’s a man of the law. To be caught in a scandal like this… it might not be such a big deal for a common person, but this would tarnish his reputation. Irreparably.”

“Then it looks like we’re on the right track. This is certainly what the kidnapper would want to expose. But we still don’t know where this place is.”

“Then I think we need to turn our attention online,” Brock said. “I’ll bet there are threads on forums where people talk about this stuff, give each other tips on where to get it.”

“There’s a thread for everything,” Olivia said with a sigh. “Alright, let’s go digging. But keep it local. I can’t see him going far afield. He’s a busy man.”

“A very busy man,” Brock said with a chuckle. Olivia shook her head. Sometimes, Brock just couldn’t resist a joke lying in wait.

The threads that Olivia and Brock were searching made her cringe to her core. She often forgot how depraved people could be until she spent a good portion of her workday on the internet. It was on these threads that she often reexamined humanity as a whole. She made a few random searches, looking for key words. She winced as she typed the words hot women wanted, Washington. She was shocked—though she felt she shouldn’t be—by the amount of results that the search came up with. She scrolled through the thread titles, looking for something that stuck out to her.

Women only want one thing.

Why do women only want men desired by other women?

The science of hot women going for ugly guys.

Women need us, but they’ve forgotten their place.

It was enough to give Olivia a headache. She clicked on a few of them aimlessly, watching men decode women in the most inaccurate ways possible for paragraphs and paragraphs. She rolled her eyes and kept herself moving.

“Did you know that women detest men for wanting to sleep around even though it’s their human nature?” Olivia asked dryly, rolling her eyes. “Who knew?”

“I swear most men are still as evolved as cavemen,” Brock said. “Don’t they realize how stupid they sound?”

“They would have to have brain cells for that possibility to cross their minds,” Olivia said, continuing to scroll. “What about this… I’m looking for real women.”

“Sounds promising. I hope they find one. We certainly wouldn’t want them getting stuck with fake women, would we?”

Olivia chuckled, opening the thread. The thread opened with literature that could only be penned by Shakespeare himself.

I’m looking for women. Nice women who look good and want to please a man. Women who want it. I’m willing to pay.

Lovely, Olivia thought. Who says romance is dead?

The comments in the thread were fairly disturbing. Many of the men seemed to be misunderstanding the meaning of the post. They were commenting names of women they had slept with, sometimes even addresses. It was a wonder that the entire thread hadn’t been shut down with all of the details being given away. But one of the comments from an anonymous user immediately caught Olivia’s attention. It had been voted as the top comment, and Olivia was half-tempted to give it a thumbs up too.

17 Rosebud, Bellevue. The women there are always willing. High class too.

She pondered for a moment before searching the address. She was immediately greeted with an image of the house from the video, along with a map of where to find the place. It was listed as a business, but there was no description of what occurred there. Still, it had received five stars in wordless reviews countless times. Perhaps the top commenter was on to something after all.

“Bingo,” she said, showing the image to Brock. He grinned.

“Looks like we’re going to a brothel.”

She swatted his shoulder. “Don’t act so excited about it.”

The house was just as magnificent in real life as in the photograph. The huge white house was set in front of a backdrop of water, a huge fountain obscuring the driveway. There were large windows that Olivia could just about see from so far back. Inside, she spotted several scantily clad women walking through the house, arm in arm. It looked like it was business as usual, though the word lust was still scribed in front of the metal gate.

Olivia was sure they wouldn’t be able to simply drive up to the place, that they would need some sort of secret code to be allowed past the first gate, but she hoped they would be granted access once they flashed their badges. They drove up to the gate and Brock pressed the buzzer. There was a crackle of static on the other end.

“We’re closed today,” a woman on the intercom said bluntly.

“We’re not here for business. Or pleasure, should I say,” Brock said, unable to keep a straight face. “We’re with the FBI.”

“I assure you, we’re a perfectly reputable—”

“You’re not in trouble. We’re here about the graffiti. We’re interested in it regarding a high-profile case. One of your previous customers, we believe. We just want to talk to someone who might be able to identify him and tell us a little about what he was doing here.” He let go of the buzzer for a moment to talk to Olivia. “Though I’m sure we can guess…”

“Please hold,” the woman on the intercom said before cutting out the feed. They waited for several minutes before the woman returned.

“Madam Eleanor will see you now. The gate will open in a moment.”

“Thank you,” Brock said. They drove inside and Olivia continued to admire the house. As they got out of the car, Olivia spotted two of the women standing in the window, watching them. They wore matching silk robes in coordinating colors; they could have been identical twins if not for their hair. One had beautiful blonde locks that hung in waves, the other’s black hair was cut in a severe, straight bob. One of them waved flirtatiously at Olivia and she found herself waving back with a smile before she could stop herself. She hoped they didn’t see her blush as they headed inside.

The entry way of the house looked almost like a hotel lobby with marble floors and high ceilings. The air was cool and fresh, scented with something delicate. Olivia sniffed the air. Rose petals and jasmine. The whole place felt feminine and calm. It was strange to think it was a place that catered mostly to men.

There was a young woman waiting behind a desk, watching them with anxious eyes. She must have been the woman they spoke to on the intercom. Olivia and Brock showed their badges at the desk.

“Don’t show me,” the woman said. She nodded to the stairwell. “Show them to Madam Eleanor.”

Olivia and Brock glanced toward the stairs, where an ethereal woman was descending. She had thick brown curls that bounced on her shoulders, and soft almond brown eyes. She wore a white dress that floated as she walked. It dipped at her chest, showing a fair amount of cleavage, but Olivia was more interested in the gold pendant that hung in the space there. It was large and had a depiction of Medusa on it. Olivia knew the symbolism of that pendant: female power, rage, and survived trauma. She thought it was a very interesting piece of jewelry for what was essentially a brothel. But she could also see the power this woman held, how she commanded the attention of the room without having to say a word. Perhaps it was not so unusual after all.

“Hello,” she said, her voice surprisingly deep and warm. She reached for Olivia’s hand first, then Brock’s. Olivia was sure there was meaning to that action. “Would you like to follow me to my office? Melanie at the desk filled me in a little, so I think it’s best that we discuss this matter in private. I like to protect my girls from discussions that may affect their day.”

“Sure,” Brock said with a curt nod. Madam Eleanor curled one perfect finger at them, motioning them to follow. Olivia fell in step with her while Brock walked behind them and Eleanor offered Olivia a smile.

“I appreciate you coming today,” Eleanor said. “The graffiti has some of the girls unnerved. It has left us feeling…exposed. And I know what you’re thinking. Don’t the girls lay it all bare every day? But this is our haven. We don’t like to bring drama to our doorstep. Our lives here are peaceful. But even heaven must have cloudy days, I’m sure.”

She led them down a corridor to a small room overlooking the driveway. It was hardly bigger than a broom closet, with just enough room for a desk and two chairs. Olivia wondered why in such a big house, the mistress who owned it all only had a tiny little office.

“I don’t need much for contentment. And besides, it’s intimate,” Eleanor said, answering a question that no one had spoken aloud. She sat behind the desk, offering Olivia the only remaining chair. “Please, sit down. Tell me in full why you are here.”

Olivia looked at Brock. He nodded to her. Here, it felt right for her to take the lead. Olivia nodded back before turning to Eleanor, slipping into the chair.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but footage of the graffiti across your front gate and this house was sent last night to someone we believe to be a client of yours. Or at least, he was once, we think,” Olivia began. “This footage was used with the intention of getting him to confess to something, something relating to this place, we believe. He is being taken for a ride by a person who has kidnapped his daughter. This person is forcing him to… well, almost take a tour of his supposed sins. To face up to what he has done.”

“Lust…” Eleanor said with an easy smile. She gazed into Olivia’s eyes, almost hypnotic. “Not always a sin. Don’t we all experience it?”

“True as that may be… the kidnapper’s implications so far have been a little more serious than just simple desires. We think this could have been a more serious incident,” Olivia said, swallowing. “The investigation involves US Attorney John Grace. Do you know of him?”

Eleanor’s smile slipped. She inhaled deeply, looking pained, like she had been delivered a sharp stab to the ribs. “I do.”

“We know that in most cases there must be confidentiality here,” Brock said. “But we need to know about what John did here, how many times he visited… all of it. As much information as you’re willing to give.”

Eleanor thought about it for a moment, before straightening her back. “We protect the identities of our clients… to a point,” she said, her lips pursed. “But I’m willing to tell you the story, if it helps someone. Mr. Grace was a regular here, yes. But then there was an incident and he was asked to leave.”

“Permanently?”

“Yes. We take the safety of our girls very seriously,” she said with a sure nod. “And this incident was very serious.”

“He threatened one of your girls?”

Eleanor cleared her throat. “It… it was a complicated occurrence. I heard multiple recollections of it. I can try and piece it together for you, if you so wish.”

“Please do. Take your time.”

Eleanor threaded her fingers together, staring into space as she collected her thoughts.

“John used to visit us once a month,” she began slowly. “And he would, during his visit, sample three of our girls. They were very different girls, interestingly. Different skin, different hair, different personalities. This really doesn’t happen very often. Usually our clients have a type and they stick to it. But he would spend an hour or two with each of them. Again, that could be considered unusual. Each time he visited he would be here almost all day. His requests were always the same. Must I go into detail?”

“Only of what is necessary,” Olivia said, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

“Very well. I feel it’s necessary to note that he had the women doing most of the work. He liked to order them around. I know that sounds bad, but it wasn’t. He never crossed a line… it was all agreed upon beforehand. Many of our clients like to have a sense of control and power. It’s not so unusual, especially with the male clients. Some of our clients also enjoy intimacy with the girls following, where they spend time with the girls on their own or just in our common areas. It’s aftercare, I suppose, and some of them need that. John had no interest in that. He often left each room the moment he was done with them, spent some time in our spa before moving on to the next girl. He was never truly on my radar as a problematic customer. I had some that I kept an eye on, ones I worried about with my girls…”

“Worried how?” Brock asked.

“Let me be clear. The women here are in charge,” Eleanor said firmly. “We cater to men, but they come here to be seduced by us, to enjoy what our women are offering. But some toe the line. They think the power we grant them is real. They push boundaries. And in those cases, we don’t allow clients back. But as I mentioned, John was never like that with the girls. Until the day that got him barred from the premises.”

“Did you notice something unusual that day when he came in?” Olivia asked. Eleanor hesitated, considering the question for a long moment.

“He seemed to be in a bad mood. He often was, actually. He was never particularly polite or pleasant to be around. The girls didn’t like him much. They have some clients that they genuinely enjoy having around, but John Grace wasn’t one of them. I could tell the kind of man he was without ever spending much time with him; he looked down on us, but he needed us more than we could ever need him. It’s that kind of transaction. Men like him don’t like to see the world from a perspective other than from the top.” Eleanor grimaced. “But that day, there was certainly something… off.”

“When was this?”

“Around four years ago. It was October 19th, that I remember very clearly. I keep very particular records. He wasn’t actually due a visit, which I think was the more unusual thing. He didn’t call ahead to book an appointment, simply showed up and demanded his usual girls. I asked him what we owed the pleasure to. And he said he had left his wife.”

“She left him,” Brock scoffed. “He was abusing her. Her daughter made a bargain to get them out of there after she caught him abusing her mother. And that was the day Caroline said their marriage ended: October 19th. It checks out.”

“It’s no wonder his mood was so terrible,” Eleanor said. “I thought he came for comfort. Many men have come to us after leaving their partners. It has never ended the way it did that night, though. He went to his first appointment as normal with his main girl, Kiki. She was his favorite, usually. He would spend longer with her than the others. She always described him as in charge but…gentle. Which is why that day felt different. Later, she recalled that he frightened her from the moment he walked into the room. He didn’t stop to talk. He grabbed her hard and began his session as he meant to go on. She tried to adapt to the situation, teasing him gently about his change in temperament. She tried to lean into it and guide the session in the right direction. And that’s when things changed.” Eleanor paused, looking pained. It was clear to Olivia how much she cared about the women under her management. Whatever came next wasn’t good.

“Did he harm her?” Olivia asked. Eleanor met her eyes with hurt in her gaze.

“He grabbed her by the neck. Here, that’s the kind of behavior that has to be signed off before a session and must be consented to by our girls. It’s not something most of our girls are willing to do, for obvious reasons. Kiki has never consented to that kind of behavior, and we take that seriously. She said she tried to cry out, but he persisted… she told me after that she decided that she simply had to survive it. She didn’t think he could be killing her… but he hurt her. She said he just wasn’t himself. That he wanted her to hurt. That if he didn’t get his way, it would be worse.”

Olivia’s discomfort was outweighed by her desire to find out everything she needed. At this point, there was no doubt in her mind that John was no victim. He was a violent criminal who needed to be behind bars. But she also knew that there was a good reason he wasn’t already. They needed evidence against him, and stacks of it. Men like John walked free all the time. It was only when they were truly backed into a corner that anything was ever done to help the trail of victims they left behind.

“It took Kiki some time to recover from the ordeal before she was able to stand and leave her room. She feared he might come back too,” Eleanor said, her voice thick. “John had moved on quicker than he should have. He had skipped his usual time in the spa and gone to his next partner, Bella. Just after his second session began, Kiki was finally able to come to me, where she described what happened. Obviously, I knew I had to intervene and make sure nothing further happened. I was forced to interrupt the session with Bella for her own safety. And when I found her, she was bleeding. Crying. John didn’t stop. He was fully clothed, just beating her.”

Eleanor closed her eyes, the memory clearly painful to recall. But when her eyes reopened, there was clarity in her gaze.

“I pulled a gun on him,” she said calmly. “I knew that I could only fight such violence with violence. I told him I would shoot him dead if he made another move. And I meant it. I don’t play when it comes to my girls. He stopped… looked me dead in the eye. Saw that I was serious. He was practically foaming at the mouth. I took the safety off. I was ready to kill that man, I swear to you. I’m glad I didn’t have to, but I would have, to save Bella’s life. I was furious. To come into our home and to treat us like this… it was unforgivable. I wondered how I had never seen this darkness in him before, but I knew that the important thing was that we rid ourselves of him for good. I told him it was time to leave, that he would never be welcome here again. Staring down my gun, I think he knew I was willing to pull the trigger. And he had to believe I was willing. If he didn’t, he would have stayed and caused more trouble. But he did as he was told. I pointed that gun at him until he had left the house, got in his car and drove away. And after that, I never saw him again, except on the news. He knew better than to try and come back here.”

“Why didn’t you involve the police?” Olivia asked, but she already knew the answer to that question. Eleanor gave her an almost pitying look.

“It’s hard enough to win a rape or abuse case as any ordinary woman… but for women like us? Against a man like John? Almost impossible,” Eleanor said. “I thought it was safer for all of us to hold our tongue, to be able to carry out our lifestyles here as we always have. I did ask Kiki and Bella what they wanted to do, whether they wanted to take legal action or anything. If they had wanted that I wouldn’t have denied them the chance. But they told me that they would cancel their clients for a few days, recover in peace and quiet, then move on. It felt like there was nothing to be done. It made sense at the time.” Eleanor paused, letting out a long breath. “It isn’t an easy business to be in sometimes. I started this venture hoping to keep men in check. They so often let their impulses rule them… and sometimes when they keep their desires within walls such as these, the world is a safer place. But a man like John… he deceived us all until that day. I would never have known that he was abusing his wife on the outside. Now, that fact doesn’t shock me one bit. I worried that day that he might go out there and hurt her… but I had to protect the girls. I did what I thought was right at the time.”

Olivia nodded, choosing not to place judgment. Would she have done things differently? Because Eleanor was right. It was hard to win a case, but against a renowned prosecutor? They never would’ve stood a chance. And when it came to her business, she understood that they only had each other for protection. Olivia liked to believe she would stand up to John in court regardless of her position, but this wasn’t about her. This wasn’t her world, her life. She thought it was brave of Eleanor to share her experience with them, at least.

“Thank you for telling us about what happened that day. I just have a few more questions I’d like to ask, to understand completely the picture of his experiences here. For how many years did John visit your establishment?” Olivia asked. Eleanor, seeming glad of a change in topic, sat up a little straighter again.

“I think seven? Seven and a half, maybe. He was pretty consistent. He came here because he knew how discreet we are. And this place… it’s not just for any man. We cater to the rich and famous. Some of the faces that pass through these doors, you wouldn’t believe. But most of them are like John. Politicians mainly, bored of their wives and lacking the time—or the appeal—to find a mistress. I used to look at John and think… maybe he simply needs a reprieve from the stresses of his life. Not that I condone him cheating on his wife, of course… but men are carnal at heart. He had appetites, he fulfilled them, and then went home to duty and sacrifice. That was the story I spun for myself. I used to follow his cases on the news, admire the work he did. And in my head, I created this fake version of him. But he taught me never to romanticize our clientele. Their intentions are almost never honorable or pure. I think I was naive to believe otherwise.” Her shoulders sagged a little and she played with the pendant on her neck silently.

Olivia paused her questioning for a moment, debating asking something that she knew might cause her issues down the line. But she felt she had to. For the sake of the girls, for the sake of Caroline, and for the sake of Matilda.

“Eleanor… I have to ask. Do you… do you have footage of what occurred that day?”

Eleanor stiffened, her hand frozen on her pendant.

“I told you. The girls don’t want to testify against him.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t ask them to. I just need to understand why John is being targeted in the first place. Between us, I think he’s a piece of garbage who deserves to go to prison. But right now I have to focus on finding his daughter. She’s a pawn in this game because he won’t confess to his crimes. We just need to be able to prove that all of these claims from so long ago are true and will hold up in court. That footage, if it exists, could be a part of putting John in prison. Because this is just one thread of a possible seven we can pull. Once his daughter is back, safe and sound… John is looking at a string of criminal charges. This could be one of them.”

Eleanor hesitated. Olivia could see that the thought of the footage was stressful enough, but she also knew that Eleanor could see the potential of what it could achieve. Olivia decided to change tack.

“How about this… let’s say this footage does exist. Dig it out for us and put it to one side. And once we’re done with this case and we’re gathering our arsenal against him… we’ll give you a call. And if you and the girls decide to hand it over, I will personally ensure it’s taken seriously alongside our other evidence.”

“Okay,” Eleanor said quietly. “I’ll talk to the girls about it.”

“I know it seems hard to try and take someone like him down,” Olivia said. “Because we believe people like him are untouchable. They believe it themselves and it really drives the thought home. But he’s starting to see that isn’t true. His defenses are crumbling as we speak, Eleanor. I promise you, this is the beginning of the end for John Grace. I have to work with him to find his daughter, but once she’s safe, taking him down will be my priority. You can trust us to handle it.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said. “You know… I didn’t know what to expect from you two. You have exceeded all expectations. I’m glad you came. Truly, I am.”

“You’ve been a huge help,” Olivia said, standing and leaning in to shake Eleanor’s hand again. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“One more thing,” Eleanor said quietly. “If you need more evidence… I know that John also made a yearly trip to Amsterdam. He had a brothel he frequented there, The Blue Diamond. Perhaps they had similar experiences with him there.”

“Thank you. That’s great,” Brock said with a respectful nod. “We’ll look into it.”

How did you do with the lust angle?

Olivia rolled her eyes at the text from John. Oh, she could see him sweating now. He knew nothing good could have come out of their visit to that house. She was almost tempted to text him back telling him to confess herself. It would solve all of their problems if he actually did as he was told. In fact, if he got ahead of the game, he might even be able to stop the kidnapper before they uncovered more of his dirty laundry, though Olivia doubted he’d get away from this so easily.

It was easier said than done, trying to make John talk. Olivia could see now that John had been a man on the run for years, always leaving one crime behind and then moving on to another. He wasn’t about to slow to a stop just because others had joined the race.

Still looking into it, Olivia texted back. It wasn’t a lie exactly. Olivia knew she wouldn’t be letting that part of the case go any time soon. But she had to make sure that John was kept in the dark for now. This wasn’t about cornering him. Not yet.

She followed up with a longer text:

Any ideas of what’s going to come next? Does the order of the sins mean anything to you—chronologically, perhaps? In keeping with the pattern, it could be any of the rest of them, but I would love your take on the matter.

She didn’t get a response. She wondered what he was doing right then. Pacing the floors? Considering how he could do damage control? Scrambling to find the best lawyer? Anything but opting to confess, she wagered. Which meant they still had a lot of work to do. She turned over in bed and fell into a restless sleep.

The following morning, there was a message waiting for her on her social media account. It was from Matilda’s account. She sat up straight, staring at her screen in disbelief.

John Grace is laughing all the way to the bank.

Olivia stared at the message. What kind of riddle was that? She considered the sins that were left over. Greed, she landed on. What was this person trying to tell her? Was John having some kind of issue with his finances? Or was he sourcing money from some sort of dirty scheme?

More importantly, what was this kidnapper playing at? Why were they giving them so many clues? It was almost like they wanted to be found. No, Olivia reminded herself, they want us to uncover John’s secrets. Expose them. Perhaps the intention of the kidnapper was to get Olivia and Brock on their side, to have them expose John too with the information they were fed. It was like a challenge they had yet to accept.

If he won’t tell, will you?

Olivia wasn’t sure what she should do. She should tell someone about the messages, possibly even Hugh. Let someone know that the kidnapper was in contact with her. But who was there to tell, other than Brock? She was the authority on this case. And of course, she couldn’t tell John. The kidnapper was baiting them to pick a side: them or John. But she was on neither side, truly. Now that John’s crimes were revealing themselves, she knew she couldn’t fully commit to being on his team. And so her loyalties lay with whoever got Matilda home. And though neither side could be trusted, she was leaning more to trusting the kidnapper.

Who are you? What do you want from us? Olivia typed back, an act of desperation. Plus, it was a paper trail, a line of communication that was so rare with a suspect. That might be important later on.

We want justice. The world must see John Grace for who he is.

Olivia paused, then typed back frantically.

We want to help. But we want Matilda to come home. Let her go. We don’t have to go down this route to expose John. We can do this without her getting hurt.

But the kidnapper was clearly done with the conversation. Olivia stared at the screen for around ten minutes, waiting for a response that never came. Frustrated, she put her phone aside and got up to take a shower. She’d have to return to the issue later.

As she and Brock ate breakfast in a local diner, she filled him in on the conversation she had with the kidnapper. Brock frowned through the entire retelling and Olivia was amused to note that the frown lines between his eyes were becoming permanent. She found it endearing, the signs of his age and stress catching up to him.

“What are we supposed to gather from this information?” Brock asked, sipping his black coffee. “From what I can tell, the kidnapper is actually trying to derail us.”

“How so?”

“Because what does this statement they’ve told you achieve? It turns your suspicion on John, gives you another angle to investigate on him. Every second spent investigating him is one that we’re turning a blind eye to the kidnapper themselves,” he pointed out as he shoved a forkful of breakfast sausage into his mouth.

“I disagree. John is the key to getting Matilda back. That’s been made clear from the start. It’s all based on his confessions, his crimes coming into the light. They’re telling us to gather this evidence on him and expose him, and they’re trying to help us find the path to it without spoon-feeding us answers. They know as well as we do that we have to have solid evidence against him if he’s going to see the inside of a jail, and they want us to get him there. They’ve clearly figured out that John isn’t going to give himself up. This is their way of saying that it doesn’t matter how this stuff gets out, just that it does.”

“If they know all of this about John then why don’t they just go to the police themselves?” They keep pointing us in the right direction and then disappearing, making us work for it. Why this whole facade? Is this a game to them?”

“I don’t think that’s what this is. I think it’s because they want to be taken seriously,” Olivia pressed. “They want us to go to the police after we’ve done the leg work instead of them. It makes sense, Brock, it really does.”

He thought it over. “Okay. Let’s say that all of this is true. Let’s say that this seven sins crap isn’t just a way to mess with us and get their kicks… what now? They’re hinting that the next sin is Greed. Where do we take that information? Are we supposed to ask John for his financial statements? He’ll have a lawyer on our ass before we have a chance to blink. And then we lose the little trust we have left with him and lose any cooperation he will ever be willing to give us.”

“But we have to try it,” Olivia pointed out. “Have the kidnappers steered us wrong so far? We never would’ve known to look for that house if not for the clues. Caroline might never have told us what we needed to know about John if it wasn’t for the Wrath clue, and we wouldn’t have known there was anything to ask about. There’s meaning in all of this, Brock. This person, whoever they are, knows way too much. Not to mention that it all links back to Matilda, to Dante’s Divine Comedy… it’s too crazy and too accurate for someone to make it all up. This person knows what they’re trying to achieve with this whole thing. I think they just need us to help them achieve it.”

“And what about Matilda? What is she, collateral damage? She’s a terrified young woman being used in all of this as a device. Don’t forget that this person is maybe being a vigilante, but that doesn’t mean they won’t kill Matilda out of spite, Olivia. She’s the priority here.”

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Olivia said quietly. “But I think we need to trust this process. We don’t have other leads right now. I… I don’t think they want to hurt Matilda. This has always been about hurting John. And if they really know John, know what he’s capable of at his core… then I think they know that Matilda won’t be enough to make him confess. He doesn’t care about her anywhere near as much as he cares about himself, and I’m sure the kidnapper has figured that out by now if they didn’t know from the start. I think it’s for our benefit, for the public’s benefit. To make everyone question why he isn’t just complying with the demands to save her. To make everyone see that the accuser has become the accused. It’s all part of the defamation, and it’s working. We are seeing a new side to him because of these clues. It’s not baseless. It’s important.”

Olivia felt a little breathless after such an impassioned speech. She was certain she was right. She was so sure that there was something to her theories. She looked up at Brock, hoping to see trust in his eyes. And of course, as always, it was there. No one understood her like he did. Yes, he challenged her views. Yes, he opened the discussion. But by the time they were done talking, he could always see her point of view. Sometimes he didn’t agree, and that was fine. But he was always willing to entertain her whims, and so many times before, it had paid off for them. She hoped this would be one of those times.

“Okay,” Brock said with a nod. “You’re right. We have to follow up on it. But how are we going to do this without John trying to rip our heads off?”

Olivia considered it for a moment.

“We have to go over his head,” Olivia said. “Go to the top. Maybe get a federal subpoena. But we need to do it without John being notified. For now, he can’t be aware that he’s under investigation. And that means talking to Hugh and telling him how this whole thing has unraveled.”

“Let me get this straight,” Hugh said, his forehead creasing in a frown. “You’re investigating the man who is being targeted by the kidnapper? Not the person who actually stole a young woman from off the street?”

“Hear me out,” Olivia said firmly. “This all connects. The kidnapper has been in touch with us and they’re trying to send us messages, even more closely connected than the videos they’re sending to John. We have confirmed reports of violent assault from two separate sources, and the kidnapper is trying to get us to expose John to the world. It’s not coming from nowhere. The kidnapper’s motivation was never money, it was to expose John for whatever reason.”

“And what about the kidnapping? Does that not imply that the kidnapper intends to do harm?”

“Olivia thinks that Matilda is only being used to ensure that public attention is already on John when he makes his confession, or when someone exposes him first,” Brock said. “It’s less about John being scared for his daughter and more about proving to the world that he doesn’t care about her enough to confess. And the more I think about it, the more I think that’s right. This person seems to know John inside and out. This is not a random target. It’s someone who has seen him for who he is and is desperate to see his downfall. But they’re playing it smart. Yes, kidnapping Matilda will see them go to jail when we catch them, but maybe they think that’s a worthy trade. We have only so far seen a fraction of what John is capable of, but the signs point to there being more. Signs from the kidnapper who is pushing us to the correct path to expose John.”

“So you believe this is all just a scheme to show John’s true colors?” Hugh said, his forehead creasing in a frown. “And you want to look into his finances…because?”

“Because our latest clue was a riddle from the kidnapper that alludes to greed,” Olivia pressed. “They said that John is laughing all the way to the bank. Why would that be? Dirty money of some kind would be my main guess. Fraud? Money laundering? Something to do with gambling, maybe? Why draw attention to it if it’s not true?”

“Because the kidnapper could be dividing your focus. It could be a distraction.”

“So we don’t allow it to divide our focus. Place more people on the case. Have someone else look into the finances while we look for further clues to track down this kidnapper,” Olivia said. “I understand why you’re being cautious about this, because it is risky to put any trust in these claims. But this is important. We shouldn’t overlook this. We have almost nothing to go on and yet the kidnapper is trying to guide us. They haven’t steered us wrong yet. In fact, they have helped us get some of our most vital information so far. If this is some sort of vigilante case then we would be stupid to ignore what they’re trying to tell us.”

Hugh paused with his thoughts for a few moments, giving Olivia a long look of frustration. Not with her, but with the situation. She understood entirely. This wild goose chase was tearing them in two different directions

After a while, he sighed.

“You’re right. We can’t leave this alone. But I want you guys working to find the kidnapper in the meantime. I’ll have someone else look into the finances. It’s best that it’s not you, anyway, to have someone not connected to the case doing the digging. If John catches wind of this, we’ll be drowning in lawsuits, even if you’re right.”

“Thank you. Thank you for trusting me on this,” Olivia said earnestly. It meant a lot for Hugh to put faith in her. They hadn’t known each other that long, and Olivia knew that she could sometimes come across as a wildcard. But risks usually paid off for her. Her theories were never unfounded, and they often turned into something more, but she needed trust from her team to make it happen. Brock was never in doubt, but Hugh? His trust meant a new step in their bond.

“I hope you’re right,” Hugh said. “If this is all true, then we will have a really solid case against John. Any financial issues will solidify the claims, make the testimonies stronger. That will be important, especially with the older abuse claims.”

“I’m also trying to get the women from Rosebud to release video evidence of what happened on October 19th,” Olivia said. “It corroborates Caroline’s own story.”

“That would give us a really solid case,” Hugh said. He patted Olivia’s shoulder. “We’ll need it if we want to take down a man like John Grace. It’ll be a hard road.”

“I know,” Olivia said. “But I’m willing to take it.”

I haven’t had any videos in a few days. What is the kidnapper waiting for?

You know exactly what they’re waiting for, Olivia responded.

John didn’t deign to reply again.

Olivia put her phone down and closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples. She wasn’t in the best of moods, and trying to work with John wasn’t helping matters. With a team looking into John’s finances on the sly, she and Brock were hitting dead end after dead end. They had been searching all of the footage they had received so far to try and figure out anything about the kidnapper or their whereabouts, but nothing was coming up as obvious. The kidnapper had been careful to leave themselves out of the footage in every possible manner. They had no description to work off, no fingerprints, no eyewitnesses. The kidnapper might as well have been a ghost. They clearly knew how to stay off the radar. They must have been planning all of this for months.

Olivia had entertained the idea of trying to get ahead of the next location for one of the kidnapper’s videos. They had investigated the Blue Diamond in Amsterdam, talking with the owner over the phone and asking that he keep his security tight in case the kidnapper decided to hit there with another graffiti target, but Olivia knew that was very unlikely now. The owner also hadn’t been able to tell them much about John; he was just one client of hundreds who showed up once a year at best. He wasn’t even on the club’s radar.

So Olivia and Brock kept pushing, hoping for CCTV footage of the kidnapper in action. They had the Rosebud brothel send over security footage from their gate, but the kidnapper in action was covered from head to toe and was in and out of the shot within minutes. It had been a long shot in the first place, but Olivia was beginning to find the lack of evidence left behind incredibly frustrating.

And though the news still reported Matilda now and then, asking anyone to come forward with information, Olivia could see that the coverage was dying down. That was the last thing they wanted. They needed something new to keep the interest of the public, and if what she believed about the kidnapper’s motives were true, then that was vital.

The whole case had kept Olivia up at night more than she would like. She kept thinking of that young woman, probably crying herself to sleep, not knowing what her fate would be. It was the kind of prolonged torture that didn’t requite blood and gore and horror. Being subjected to imprisonment, cut off from the outside world, with no idea of what might happen next, was a fate Olivia didn’t want to think of. For now, Matilda was technically safe, but even in sleep, Matilda haunted her dreams, screaming into the void, begging for help that Olivia had not yet been able to provide. Sometimes, even her hardest efforts weren’t enough. Olivia’s sleeplessness had her brain fogging up, making her feel useless. But she kept going regardless. She wasn’t going to give up on Matilda until there was nothing left to be done.

She woke that morning and knew that they needed to see John in person again. It was the last thing she wanted to do, to be in a room with a man like him. He brought out a side of her that she didn’t like. A side that made her angry, made her want to stoop to his level. It both scared and disgusted her.

But she needed to push him again to reconsider his stance. If there truly was nowhere left to turn in terms of evidence against the kidnapper, then the only path was through John’s confessions. If he would just admit to what he had done, then they would all be able to rest easy and this could be put to an end. Surely he could see that all that was stacking against him was more than enough to see him go to prison for his crimes?

But she knew it wasn’t so simple as that. He was clinging to his last shreds of hope, convincing himself that he was one of the lucky few who could surpass his own destiny. He didn’t care who got hurt so long as he got out okay.

But it was Olivia’s duty to try once more to change his mind. She had tried already many times, but she had to give it one last attempt, even if only for her own peace of mind. If she couldn’t… well, she was readying her arsenal to destroy him regardless. The truth would come out about John Grace, one way or another. Just as he would do anything to save his own skin, she would do anything necessary to save Matilda’s. She was giving him one last chance to do this with dignity, with some shred of pride left in him. If he wanted to be slandered and torn apart slowly, then that was his own choice.

She and Brock traveled to John’s home in solemn silence. Neither of them felt like beating a dead horse about this case. It had exhausted them both. But Olivia felt a small spark of hope when they pulled up outside John’s home to see him standing out on the sidewalk, talking to a group of reporters. She watched him for a few moments in disbelief. He looked better than the last time she had seen him, poised and wearing a sharp suit, speaking clearly to the camera. She blinked, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her.

“Is he… is he confessing?” she asked in bewilderment. Brock narrowed his eyes, choosing to be pessimistic right away.

“I doubt it,” he said. “I would guess that he’s spinning the story to his own advantage.”

Olivia’s heart sank. That was the more obvious answer, and the more depressing one. It also worried her. If he was feeding lies to the press, then he would be harder to discredit down the line. Besides, what would the kidnapper do if they found out that John was lying to the world to try and save himself? He could be putting Matilda in danger. Surely the kidnapper had prepared consequences for John continuing to lie?

Olivia got out of the car and rushed over, trying to hear what John was saying in front of the camera. He glanced her way but didn’t break his flow as he continued to speak confidently to the camera.

“Maybe I should have spoken sooner, but I have been working day and night to try and figure out what it is that the kidnapper expects of me,” John said. “Many people know me for my extensive work in the community, for my time as a prosecutor, and for my local charity work. I don’t like to tell the world I’m a good person, but I think the majority have figured that out for themselves. Yet these people who have my daughter… they keep trying to make it seem like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. They claim that they will give my daughter back if I just tell them what they want to hear. But I know that isn’t true. You cannot negotiate with terrorists. They don’t intend to ever let my daughter go. They simply want to humiliate me in any way possible. They keep telling me that they’re looking for a confession… well, I have one. I confess that I don’t understand why they would want to hurt my daughter. I confess that I don’t understand why they believe that doing all of this will achieve something. I have nothing to hide. I have been an upstanding citizen for my entire life, just like the daughter of mine that they stole from off the streets. My plea is for them to confess. To tell me where to find my daughter so I can bring her home. To tell me why they’re doing all of this so that I might make sense of it. I won’t hold a grudge. We can forget all of this ever happened. I won’t seek justice like I have all of my career. I won’t take legal action. I just want my daughter to come home.”

Olivia folded her arms, anger rising inside her. John clearly thought he knew what he was doing. He clearly thought he could outsmart the situation, turn the tables and put himself in the driver’s seat. But she knew this was a mistake. He might hoodwink the public for a while, but the kidnapper, whoever they were, was not going to appreciate this little stunt. In fact, it was the exact opposite of what they had asked of him. They were looking for a confession of guilt and he was acting innocent. It was going to anger them, maybe cause them to do something drastic. Olivia’s heart was racing at the thought of Matilda’s punishment for her father’s actions. She couldn’t bear it.

She sliced her hand across her throat silently, warning John to cut off his interview. She would have to try to appeal to the press, to ask them not to air the coverage, but she knew it was likely it had already gone live. John wrapped up his interview with one final plea for people to come forward with any information that they had before turning to Olivia and Brock.

“I wasn’t expecting you here today,” he said, gesturing back to the cameras. Olivia took a deep breath, feeling fury burning bright inside her.

“That much is clear,” she seethed. “What are you playing at, John? Do you have any idea what you might have done with this stupid interview? You’re putting Matilda at risk.”

“I will not be bullied by criminals who are trying to see my reputation in tatters,” John said, his head held high.

“So you would rather see your daughter dead? Tortured?”

Olivia could see the press crew exchanging uncomfortable glances. Good, she thought. They were also complicit, too hungry for a good story to consider the consequences of their little interview. They were all playing into the kidnapper’s hands. John’s face burned red.

“I am simply trying to take control of the situation.”

“Well, don’t,” Olivia hissed. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You don’t play around with a kidnapper like this. You’re risking everything.”

“Well, if you were doing a better job then maybe I wouldn’t have to do all of this,” John snapped back. “You haven’t gotten anywhere since we started out.”

“Because you have refused to comply.”

“Because I have nothing to confess,” John snarled. “I don’t know how this has turned into some kind of manhunt for my head, but you should be on my side. How else are we going to solve the case?”

Olivia dug her nails into her palm, telling herself to keep her cool. She wanted to tell him that they were onto him, but what good would it do? The damage was already done here. There was nothing more that they could do except try and do damage control.

That was if they weren’t already too late.

“Let’s go inside,” Brock said after a moment of heated silence. “We need to talk, John.”

“Fine,” he said. He turned back to the crew. “Thank you for your help this morning. I’m sorry that tempers ran hot here. This is a very stressful time for everyone involved.”

This seemed to placate the crew. They murmured some platitudes before beginning to pack up and leave. John led Olivia and Brock inside his home sullenly. The moment the door closed, his expression darkened.

“You tried to embarrass me out there,” he insisted.

“That was not the intention,” Brock said. “Olivia was simply trying to make you understand the consequences of an interview like that. You’re going to anger the people holding your daughter. You’re doing the exact opposite of what is being asked of you, and they’re not going to take kindly to that. They might hurt Matilda just to retaliate.”

“They won’t,” John said. “They need her safe to be able to bargain with me.”

Olivia knew that he was potentially right, but it did nothing to calm her fury. It only fed it further.

“And that’s a risk you’re willing to take? And for how long? Do you think they will just continue to hold her indefinitely?”

“If that’s what it takes,” John said, his chin high. “Matilda is a resilient girl. She gets that from me. I know she’s staying strong.”

“What do you really know about your daughter, John?” Olivia asked quietly. Her eyes bore into John’s face. “You haven’t seen or spoken to her in four years. She has become a woman in that time. You can’t speak to the person she is now. I’d wager that we know her better from our research.”

John’s eyes flashed with fury. “Then why have you not found her yet?”

Because the path to her is through you, Olivia thought, the thought so angry that it burned hot in her mind. They faced off once more and Olivia was sure that this was the last time they would be allowed anywhere near John. Little did he know that they were closing in on him. Little did he know that the second they figured out the rest of his crimes, it wouldn’t matter what he did anymore. They could expose him and bargain to get Matilda home.

Olivia heard John’s phone vibrating in his pocket and saw his angry expression drop to one of unadulterated fear. He likely was wondering if he had received another threat from the kidnapper. Olivia nodded to him.

“Check it.”

For once, John did as he was told. He extracted his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, like it was some kind of explosive. He scanned the screen, sealing his own fate with the words he saw there.

“Read it to us,” Brock said. John pressed a hand to his chest as if to slow his own heart.

“It says… talking to the press was a big mistake. You have…” John swallowed. “You have twenty-four hours before we release our first piece of evidence to the press. We will start small and work our way up until you are ruined.” He paused for a moment, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. “Confess.”

Olivia felt a cocktail of fear and anticipation brewing in her stomach. This could be good or it could be absolutely terrible. The process was speeding up, that much was for sure. It meant the kidnapper had seen what John had done and was punishing him for it. But what did that mean for Matilda?

“What are you going to do now?” Olivia asked John. He was just staring at his phone in disbelief. Olivia couldn’t stand it.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Did you really not see this coming?” Olivia asked. “You played with fire, now everyone is going to get burned. I warned you and you didn’t listen. We told you how to end this, and yet you refused. This is on you, John. Tell the world what the kidnapper is hinting at before someone gets really hurt.”

“We have twenty-four hours to figure it out,” John said absently. Olivia shook her head.

“No. The answer is to be honest. Now. That’s been the goal from the start. And we could have gotten Matilda back days ago if you’d simply told us the truth from the beginning. It’s simple. Call the press back. Tell them everything. Do the right thing for your daughter, John. For once, do the right thing.”

John’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The kidnapper isn’t the only one with dirt on you, John,” Olivia said calmly. Now that there was a deadline on John’s reputation, she saw no harm in applying the pressure from her end too. “You’ve lied to us on at least three occasions. We know there’s more secrets you’re hiding. Secrets that, for some reason, this kidnapper wants exposed, and until you can be honest with us, we can’t do anything. Don’t you get it? There is no way this ends well for you anymore. Your choice is between doing it your way or doing it theirs.”

“They’re the same thing.”

“I don’t care. You could end this right now.”

But John wasn’t listening. He was in panic mode, muttering to himself, his nails tapping at his screen anxiously.

“I have to… I have to fix this.”

But Olivia knew that meant nothing. He wasn’t going to comply. He wasn’t going to listen to reason. She sighed, glancing at Brock.

“I think it’s time to leave. John, if you come to your senses in the next twenty-four hours, call us. If not… I suppose we’re just waiting for what they release to the press.”

“Don’t go! You’re supposed to fix this!” John yelled, but for the first time in her career, Olivia walked away from the plea for help. She had already tried everything to help this man who didn’t deserve it. Only he could help himself now.

“Confess and it’ll all be over,” she said as she slammed his front door behind her, striding away. Brock had to jog to keep up with her.

“What do you think he’ll do now?” Brock asked. Olivia shook her head as they got in the car.

“I think he’ll shoot himself in the foot. Then he’ll open fire on anyone else he can take down with him,” Olivia said bluntly. “Which means we have twenty-four hours to collect all the dirt we can on John. Hopefully, the team will let us know what’s going on with his finances and we can use that to help us.”

“Hugh told us to focus on the kidnapper…”

“We have nothing to go on. The only things we can gather about the kidnapper are from what they want from John and the clues they’ve fed us.”

“But it tells us everything and nothing at the same time. We’re learning more about John than we are about them.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. This deadline changes things. John is going to be exposed whether we like it or not. Which means we need to have our evidence together to back up any claims by the kidnapper. That’s how we maintain some level of control. Show that we’re complying to save Matilda’s life. At the end of the day, this is a negotiation. They’ve made it clear what they expect of us. Now we have to deliver. And it comes at no cost to us. We’ll be hitting two birds with one stone. Saving Matilda’s life and hopefully putting John away for his crimes.” Olivia paused, taking in a deep breath. “Something tells me the worst is yet to come with what he’s capable of.”

It was in the afternoon that Olivia received a call from Hugh. She was halfway through a hastily purchased takeout sandwich, eating it in the car, so she quickly swallowed the dry bread and picked up the call reluctantly.

“Hi.”

“Olivia.” There was a distinct dejectedness in Hugh’s tone that Olivia rarely heard. He didn’t even bother with greetings or his typical small talk before getting right down to business. “Please tell me you’ve got some good news for me.”

Olivia sighed, looking out of the car window in misery.

“Well, John decided to go to the press this morning, and now the kidnapper is threatening to expose him in twenty-four hours. Well, more like eighteen hours now,” Olivia said. “We’ve been researching everything we can about John, looking for any past indiscretions that might match the other sins that we haven’t heard about yet so that we get ahead of anything the kidnapper might claim. We want to try and legitimize the claims or debunk them, depending on how reliable they are. Judging by what the kidnapper has revealed so far, I think there’s a chance that it’ll all be real. We tried to find more solid evidence on the kidnapper, but everything keeps slipping through our fingers, so we switched focus back to John. We’re trying to gather as much information as possible before the end of the deadline so that we can use it to negotiate with the kidnappers and see about Matilda’s release. We figure that their goal is solely to expose John, and since he won’t do it himself, perhaps our information being released will be enough to make them release Matilda.”

“It’s a good idea. Though it would be ideal to find the kidnapper first, I’m aware that you’re working with very little information regarding Matilda’s disappearance. You made a good call trying to investigate this angle instead,” Hugh said. Olivia let out a sigh of relief. The affirming statement from Hugh was good to hear. It made her feel like this case wasn’t completely out of her control, despite the kidnapper’s vice grip on all of them.

“Thank you, sir.”

”And on that note, I might have something to steer you in the right direction,” Hugh said. Olivia sat up a little straighter.

“The finances?”

“There is a lot to unpack here. It turns out that John and Duarte Pereira may not have been honest with you.”

Olivia blinked. “Duarte? What do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s been some sort of financial connection between the two. There have been multiple transactions between the pair of them over the last two years.”

“Wait… the last two years?” she said, unpacking what that meant. It meant that Duarte had been dealing with Matilda’s father even before he started dating her. That there had been some sort of involvement with John for double the time he had even known Matilda. It also meant that Duarte’s allegiances were even more complicated than she had originally thought. Was he lying about his feelings for Matilda? And how did her father fit into the entire thing? Whose side was he really on?

“That’s not all,” Hugh said. “These transactions follow unusual activity in John’s account. We think he might be receiving payments on behalf of the Pereira family through their illegal trades. We also think he’s doing this in order to launder the money for them… and then he’s taking a huge cut for himself.”

Olivia’s forehead creased in confusion. She couldn’t get her head around what she was hearing. After all he did to take down Ronaldo, how was he now helping his family with their drug money? This man who preached to the world about living within the law was now breaking the rules to suit himself? She knew she shouldn’t be shocked, given everything she had learned about John so far, but this was another level.

“Surely not! Why would he do that? I can’t understand what he stands to gain by taking this risk. It’s not like he needs the money.”

“Actually, I think he might,” Hugh said grimly. “It looks like John has gotten himself in some hot water in recent years. For one thing, his financial support for Caroline is rinsing him dry. He’s paying for her house, after all, and he’s also sending her some other financial aid, as promised through his agreement with Caroline that you mentioned. That said, he hasn’t made any payments to her in the last two months, which you may want to ask her about. But then there are other debts that he’s accrued. It looks like he’s made multiple trips to Amsterdam in the past few years and has spent a lot of money at a place called The Blue Diamond…”

“That checks out. We already followed up on that lead… it’s another brothel.”

“He’s also a gambler, it seems. He’s been spending a lot at casinos. And I mean a lot. I think he’s been unravelling for some time… it looks like he’s lost control of his spending. So this money is a must. We think he’s blackmailing the Pereira family, promising to keep the rest of them out of prison for their illicit activities if they keep him out of the red. Plus, now that Duarte is dating his daughter, he’s probably more interested in keeping the family looking clean, given the links between him, Matilda, and Duarte. He’s doing it to save his own skin, but also out of fear of a scandal.”

“I think it’s a little late for him to be worrying about that, isn’t it? He’s hiding just about every scandal possible,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “Okay, this is huge… enough to arrest him for. Duarte too. This is bigger than just the kidnapping at this point. We can re-expose the Pereira family business and put the rest of them away. What’s our move here?”

“Keep things under wraps for now,” Hugh urged. “I think we need to see how this plays out over the next twenty-four hours. Who knows, we may yet get a confession from John. And we want to make sure we have all the information before we take down the mafia operation. For now, Duarte thinks he’s gotten away with things, clearly, so you can assume he’s not going anywhere. Inez too. If we keep our distance and the finances stay under wraps for now, I can get a team together to look deeper, see where this money is being made and what it’s being used for. In the meantime, I want you to keep looking into John. Now that we know there’s dirt under the surface, I want to make sure you’ve sifted through as much of it as possible. Go deep. Look as far back as you can go. He attended Yale too. Maybe you can find out some stuff about his time there if we have already exhausted every other angle.”

“Okay, we’ll keep pushing.”

“Good work, both of you. Let’s milk this for all it’s worth. Then we can get Matilda home.”

As Olivia hung up the call, she turned to Brock.

“He wants us to take a look into John’s early days, see if there’s any dirt further back. And just basically see what else we can get on him before the timer runs out.”

“We can do that. I guess we should look at Yale first and see what we can find.”

An hour later, they had pretty much exhausted the subject of John’s college years. He had graduated thirty-two years ago with honors, and remained there for law school as well. He had been part of a fraternity, like many of his classmates, and he had excelled on the debate team. Everything about him seemed to sparkle, almost too bright, like his record had been scrubbed clean.

Olivia felt sure that there had to be something out there, someone with information about his earlier years. Given the things she knew about him already, she was certain he had started his abusive tendencies earlier in life. It was often the way with abusers, that in their formative years they learned where weaknesses lay, where they could cause harm without consequence.

College was a place where men like him were bent or broken. A place where violent men experimented with what they could get away with, pushing limits to see who was willing to allow them to get away with it. They looked for the type of women who wouldn’t call them out on their bad behavior, or the kind of women they felt they could overpower. And the more they practiced at it, the more they set themselves up for their decades as violent men that were yet to come.

Olivia thought back to Caroline’s account of their marriage. He’d broken her down slowly, convincing her that he could change, that he could get better. She’d kept that faith in him long enough to become trapped, forced to choose between giving her daughter the life she wanted for her and her own safety. Surely Caroline wasn’t the first to suffer at John’s hand? He was almost too good at it right off the bat. Were there women in John’s college days who’d suffered the way she had? And if there were, then where were they now? How long had they kept their stories under wraps? And more importantly, why?

But those stories appeared lost to time. Olivia couldn’t find anything that suggested that John had been a troublemaker during his time at Yale. Though there wasn’t much to go on, Olivia was quietly hopeful about what the kidnapper’s reveal the following day might do for their case. She was starting to have quiet admiration for their tactics. She, of course, didn’t condone that they had kidnapped and threatened a young woman, but she was also sure she could see what they were trying to achieve. If only they hadn't done it in such an extreme way and placed an innocent young woman in danger.

Olivia wondered what had inspired them to target John in particular. The attack certainly appeared to be personal, but given his trail of destruction, that didn’t narrow down their search much. Plenty of people had a reason to be angry with him, it seemed. Thinking about it, perhaps the kidnapper was a victim of John in ways they hadn’t yet considered. They had assumed that there could be a link to the Pereira family because of his career, but what if it was something closer to home than that? What if this revenge attempt was being driven by a past of abuse? Olivia got out her phone to text Caroline, a thought suddenly striking her.

Hi Caroline, I don’t want to bother you, but I have a question. Do you know much about John’s dating life prior to your relationship? I’m investigating an angle.

She received a reply not long after.

Hi. John definitely dated before me, during his college days… but I don’t know much about the women he was with. I think he was seen as a bit of a player, so I don’t think he ever really had a real relationship. Has there been any news on Matilda? I’m worried sick.

Olivia felt guilty for even messaging Caroline, especially if it was a dead end. But by the sounds of it, he had never been one for real relationships. He was hiring prostitutes for his entire relationship with Caroline, and he hadn’t had any serious stints at college. It said a lot about who he was, but it didn’t help them in terms of finding any jilted ex-lovers. Olivia typed out a reply.

The kidnapper has been in touch. Due to John’s stunt with the press this morning, they’re threatening to release evidence against him in twenty-four hours if he doesn’t come forward. We’ve been building a case against John after finding out more about what he’s been up to on the down-low to back up any claims made tomorrow. We’re hoping that if we have a hand in exposing John, rather than him confessing as the kidnapper intended, then we will still get the kidnapper to release Matilda.

Oh, thank goodness, Caroline replied. Okay, I hope it works out. I’m rooting for this to work out. Please keep in touch.

We’ll bring your daughter home. We promise.

Olivia was feeling hopeful. It had been an unusual case to unpack, one that felt more like a balancing act between John and the kidnapper than an investigation, but she could see now that pleasing the kidnapper was the key to getting Matilda home. If that meant taking John down, if that meant putting a guilty man into the limelight, then she was more than willing to do it. He might be used to manipulating women into submission, but what he didn’t realize was that she was the one with the power here. And if she could hand that power back to the women he had abused, one by one, then she would.

By the time she and Brock went to bed that night, Olivia’s stomach was in knots of anticipation. She wasn’t sure she would be able to sleep, but she knew she needed to try. It was going to be chaos tomorrow, one way or another.

As she slid under her duvet, her phone chimed with a message. She leapt on it right away. It was the kidnapper again, messaging from Matilda’s account.

Keep an eye on your inbox tomorrow.

Olivia swallowed. What were they going to do? Send more evidence her way? Blackmail her and Brock into doing something for them? Any excitement she had quickly fizzled away. It was like receiving a we need to talk text—cruel and impossible to wait on. She wanted to text back and beg for answers now, but she knew she wouldn’t receive a response. The entire thing made her want to scream into her pillow. But whatever it was, whatever the kidnapper wanted of her, she knew she couldn’t afford to miss a thing. As she attempted to sleep, she turned up the volume on her phone. When that vital notification came for her, she wanted to be ready.

It was 9:13 in the morning, the exact time from the previous day when John’s story broke on the news. Olivia and Brock were watching the TV in their hotel room with one eye while also gathering all of their notes in one place, ready to present should they need to back up the kidnapper’s claims. Olivia couldn’t help feeling anxious about what might come next. They were putting a lot of faith in the kidnapper to do the right thing. If John was exposed, then technically their demands had been met and they should let Matilda go. But Olivia knew that someone capable of kidnapping and holding someone hostage wasn’t necessarily the kind of person to play by the rules. And they still had to worry about what surprise the kidnapper might drop in their inbox, as promised, later that day.

One thing she could be certain of: John was sitting at home right at that moment, counting down the seconds before his life imploded before his eyes. She felt no sympathy for him. Not just because he was guilty of everything he was being accused of, but because he had been given multiple opportunities to come forward, to do something right for once, to save his daughter from an uncertain fate. This could have ended days ago if he had just been honest. But he kept choosing himself and he always would. If that wasn’t the basis of a guilty man with no redemption, Olivia didn’t know what was.

“What do you think is next?” Brock asked. “We’ve seen Lust, Wrath, Greed…”

“Whatever they decide to go with next, it has to be something really good,” Olivia said. “Something that will capture public attention and lock it in permanently. Technically, they could choose to release some of the footage we’ve already seen and isn’t public knowledge, but I don’t see how that would help the kidnapper; I think that was for our investigative benefit only. But only we know about the Greed angle so far, not even John is aware of it. That would be a great way to expose him. It’s undeniable evidence, it’ll be impossible for him to dispute, and it shows him for the hypocrite he is. And to be seen working with Ronaldo’s son after that huge public case… that will really get people talking.”

But half an hour later, when there was finally a breaking news announcement, it wasn’t what they had been expecting. They sat tensely to watch it, the red news banner spelling danger for all.

“Breaking news now regarding the kidnapping of US Attorney John Grace’s daughter,” the anchor on the news said with a grim expression. “We have received exclusive footage from the kidnappers this morning that intends to expose John Grace for crimes that have been swept under the rug his entire life. The kidnapper insisted that we air these two clips to ensure the safety of Matilda Grace, but please be aware, there may be scenes in this footage that some viewers find distressing.”

Olivia leaned forward, her heart racing impossibly fast. The screen cut away to a video. A word faded onto the screen in blood red writing, just like the graffiti from the other videos.

“Gluttony,” Brock murmured. “Not exactly the most threatening sin… why would they choose this instead of something more damning?”

“Let’s wait and see. Maybe it’ll surprise us,” Olivia said. She knew that the kidnapper could only work with footage or information they had. It occurred to Olivia that it was an impressive feat that they had footage of him at all. She only hoped that the kidnapper wasn’t playing their hand too early, that they had something solid to make John look as much the crook as they knew he was.

The video faded into a scene at a bar. The footage was shaky, clearly filmed by someone who knew who John was and wanted to show that they’d seen him in public, so someone outside of his group. John Grace was seen drinking with a few friends, laughing raucously. He was clearly a little rowdy, a little too drunk. He tried to sit on a bar stool and fell a long distance to the ground while his friends laughed a little too loud, helping him up and slapping him on the back. He looked irritated, but laughed along too, rubbing at his arm where he had fallen awkwardly. It looked like he had taken a hard fall, perhaps sobering him up a little.

“Okay, so he overindulged in alcohol,” Brock said. “This isn’t the hard-hitting footage we were looking for.”

But the video continued to evolve. A date was imposed over the remaining footage. September 12th. Olivia narrowed her eyes.

“Could this be just before Caroline left him in October?” she pondered. But they didn’t have time to answer the question because the footage moved on. Now, they were looking right at the face of Matilda. But not Matilda as she was now; the footage was old and she still had the features of a developing teenager, a little puppy fat on her face and an innocence still in her expression. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hair sticking up like she had just got out of bed. She was wearing a nightdress with a teddy bear on the front that looked too young for her but only added to the awful feeling in Olivia’s stomach as she watched. She’s just a child, she thought to herself, no child should ever look so terrified.

“I heard him come home just now. I think he’s drunk again,” she addresses the camera. In the corner of the footage, the date September 12th reappeared. The same night as the footage from the bar. In the video, there was the sound of a loud bang in the background that made Matilda jump in terror. Even Olivia’s heart leapt at the sound. Young Matilda squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, taking several deep breaths. Tears escaped silently from the corner of her eyes.

“I can’t keep going like this,” she said. “I don’t want to live with him anymore. He’s going to hurt her, I know it. He thinks I don’t notice, but I do. And Mom never says a word. I can’t take it anymore, I can’t…”

There was a muffled cry in the background and Olivia placed a hand over her chest, trying to keep her heart in check. She watched as teenage Matilda clearly battled with what to do. Then, she stood up and walked from the room she was in, her camera shaking in her hand.

“I’m going to film what he’s doing,” she whispered. “I’m going to get evidence. And then I’m going to do something about it.”

In the footage, she crept down the stairs while Caroline and John seemed to have a heated discussion in the background. Matilda looked terrified, wincing every time she made a slight noise. But no one seemed to hear her approach. John was clearly too drunk to be aware of his surroundings, of her making her way closer and closer to him and the scene he was causing. She turned the camera around and peered around a doorway to the living room.

John had a bottle of beer in one hand and Caroline’s hair in the other, gripping both hard. Caroline was in tears, sitting on the sofa, unable to escape his grasp. John was shouting at her, getting up in her face.

“Do you realize how worthless you are?” he spat at her. “Some wife you are. I gave up my best years for you! You should be on your knees thanking me. Look at this life I gave you. You’re so damn ungrateful.”

“Please stop, John,” Caroline begged. It was then that Olivia spotted she was still wearing the boot on her foot from when she had broken her leg. “Please.”

“Shut up,” John said. “You worthless whore. Look what you drive me to. Look what you do to me. You made me this way.”

Matilda was breathing hard behind the camera and she finally retreated, clearly terrified of being caught. She ducked into another room and the camera turned to face her again, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m going to take him down,” she whispered. “I’m going to. I have to…”

The footage cut out and Olivia finally allowed herself to breathe again.

“Is this real? Could it be AI?” Brock asked. Olivia shook her head.

“I don’t think it can. Besides, everything that the kidnapper has presented so far has been true. Why lie now? Besides, look at the details. Caroline’s broken leg, the dates… it would be hard to fake. I’ll bet only a handful of people know that Caroline broke her leg in the first place. This was just before they left him, before Matilda blackmailed John. It all fits perfectly into the timeline we’ve built so far.”

Olivia was sure that John was in full blown panic mode at this point. The newsreader returned to the screen, looking visibly distressed.

“This footage has only just been released, but as we understand it, the police and the FBI are about to launch an investigation into the legitimacy of the tape and the implications of it,” the newsreader said. “But unfortunately, there is a second tape that the kidnapper has insisted that we air. Again, some viewers may find this distressing.”

The second video began to play. This time, it was recent. It showed Matilda tied to a chair. She looked terrible. Her hair was ratty and her eyes drooped like she had been deprived of sleep. She even looked like she had lost weight. Olivia felt sick to her stomach seeing her this way. This was the first time they’d seen her since the first video, and so much seemed to have changed in that time.

Matilda hunched forward in the seat as if she could barely hold herself up. She was looking at someone off camera.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked raggedly, her eyes filled with pain and anger.

“Whatever you like,” a voice came from behind the camera. “Talk to him. To your father.”

Matilda scoffed, her eyes turning to the camera. There was such fury burning through the haze of exhaustion and humiliation that it made Olivia shudder, as if her anger was directed right at her. Maybe it was. Maybe she was angry that she hadn’t been found yet. Maybe she was angry that it felt like the world had forgotten about her. We haven’t forgotten you, Olivia wished she could tell her.

“Move me closer,” Matilda hissed. “I want him to really see me.”

A figure moved into view, shrouded in baggy black clothes, a white mask covering the entirety of their face. They pushed Matilda’s chair close to the camera and she stared right at it. Slowly, a smile appeared on her face. Not a smile of happiness, but one of pure, unadulterated fury.

“Hi, Dad. It’s been a while,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Did you forget about me? Did you decide to just leave me here to rot, huh? It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I’ve got to admit, when I heard of my captor’s plan, I was terrified. After all, my life is in your hands, and that means my life is pretty much over. They promised I would die if you didn’t comply. All you had to do was confess to your crimes. But you would never, would you? You would never admit to any wrongdoing. I don’t think you even realize just how rotten you are.”

Olivia could only watch in awe. This version of Matilda was a far cry from the teenager terrified to film her father hurting her mother. It wasn’t just the years between those two versions that separated them. This Matilda carried power, even now as she hunched in her chair, broken and exhausted. Her body looked defeated, but her mind was not. She gritted her teeth.

“But you’re not the only one who can make bargains to cover your own skin,” Matilda hissed. “You see, I know things about you that no one else does. I lived under your roof. I saw the things you did to my mother. I saw in your eyes what you wanted to do to me. And I know things now that will yet come to light, things that will ruin you beyond your own imaginings. But all in good time. Because I haven’t told you about my bargain yet. I want to live, and I couldn’t possibly leave that in your hands. I knew you would never confess, not even if it meant my death. And so we’re doing things a different way. I get to live… so long as I help to expose you for who you are. And you know what? It will be my pleasure.”

She sat back a little, looking satisfied with her speech. Olivia watched on in uncomfortable silence. Even after everything Matilda had endured, it was scary to see how much anger she held. Anger like her own father. Anger that could prove to be deadly.

“You had your chance, Dad. Now watch as we light a match and see you burn,” she declared. “I’m not scared of you anymore. You don’t define me anymore. But I will make sure you’re scared of me by the time this is done.” She paused for a moment, staring deep into the camera. “I know there are people out there who have been harmed by John Grace, just as I was, just as my mother was. I know you’re scared. I know that telling the world comes at a risk. But I want people to tell their stories. I intend to tell mine if I truly make it out of this alive. I don’t know when I’ll be allowed to speak again. But when I am, I will tell my story, start to finish. Come forward. Help the world see who he truly is.”

The footage ended there. The newsreader continued to review the footage, talking about John’s career and what the footage might mean for him. But Olivia already knew that Matilda and her captor had pulled off something unforgettable. Something that would have people talking. Something that would give other victims the courage to come forward. It was a common cause and a call to war. Olivia was sure that many people would stay silent, but she also felt sure that others would rally to the cause. That was what the kidnapper had wanted all along, what they had waited for. Now, the consequences for John were going to be absolutely dire.

Olivia could hardly believe what she had just seen. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. As she reviewed in her mind what it all meant, she came to a few realizations. First, that Matilda was safe. For now, at least, while she was still complying. It was hard to believe that truly after seeing the state of her, but she was alive, seemingly unharmed. Whatever uneasy alliance she had made with her captor was a little worrying, but for as long as it held, she would keep her life. That was definitely a good thing.

But on the other hand, they now had something else to worry about. John himself. A violent man who had just been exposed for all of America to see. They already knew he had a temper. What would he do with it now that the floodlights had illuminated him, laying him bare without the armor he had built for himself over the years? Who knew what he would do now that he had nowhere left to run?

“We have to arrest him,” Olivia said finally. Brock frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s going to become a danger to himself and to others,” Olivia said. “He won’t be able to handle his own rage. He knows that no fancy lawyer can save him from this. I think he’ll do something bad. If we can detain him while the rest of the accusations unfold, then we will have enough to put him away for good. We have enough to take him in for now if we use the financial angle. It’s not what Hugh wanted, I know he wanted more time to work on it… but things have changed. It has to be now.”

“Well… I guess you’re right. But we need to check in with Hugh, make sure we’re doing the right thing.”

“I’ll call him.”

Olivia immediately dialed Hugh. He picked up within a few seconds.

“Hey. Did you see the news?”

“Of course. John has really landed himself in hot water. I think we have little choice but to turn our attention to him.”

“We were just saying it might be time to bring him in. The videos are enough alone to make him look guilty of abuse, but pair that with everything else that we’ve learned and I think we can be charging him for multiple crimes.”

“Yes, agreed. I think you need to go now, though. There’s every chance that he’s going to do something stupid if we wait any longer.”

“On it.”

Olivia stood as she ended the call, gesturing toward the door. “It’s time. Let’s go scoop him up.”

They drove immediately over to John’s house. Olivia wondered what he was thinking in that moment. She suspected he had never expected to be cornered, so confident in himself—or so arrogant, really—that he could outrun his problems forever. She found she was looking forward to seeing the look on his face when he realized that no one was on his side any longer. She wondered if he would beg for her help again, or if he would claim this was all her fault. No one told you to abuse women and commit fraud and cheat your way through life, John, Olivia thought to herself. You came up with that all by yourself.

But when they pulled up to his house and she saw that his front door was left open, she knew he was gone. Her heart sank. He had likely run the moment he saw the news story going live. He’d had enough time to make it some distance from his home; his car was gone too. If he was smart, he’d dump the car and get out of the country as soon as possible. But in his current state, Olivia wasn’t sure what he would do. She cursed under her breath.

“I can’t believe it,” Olivia said. “This is not how this was supposed to go. We should’ve insisted on being with him this morning…”

“That could’ve been dangerous,” Brock pointed out. “But let’s not give up hope yet. Let’s do what we would normally do and collect as much information as we can.”

But they both knew it was too late. They searched the house anyway, hoping that John might be hiding somewhere, trying to mislead them with the open door, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Damn,” Brock said irritably. “We should’ve known that he would make a run for it.”

“There’s nothing we can do now about that,” Olivia said. “What next… well, we need to put out an APB and hope that something comes up for his car. That’s a place to start.”

“I’ll call it in,” Brock said, already pulling out his phone. Olivia sighed, sitting down on John’s front step and wondering what their next step should be. She knew that if they didn’t find John, then there was no chance that the kidnapper was letting Matilda go. He was–and had been from the start–the key to getting her home.

She tried to remain calm and remind herself of the kidnapper’s patterns. John might not have made the confession that the kidnapper wanted from him, but something had told her that seeing his downfall would be enough for the person behind this whole thing. They had all the power, but they hadn’t abused it so far. They had countless pieces of evidence against John and Matilda as a bargaining chip. If they wanted to hurt her, they easily could, but Olivia was starting to see how pointless that would be to everyone involved. If the kidnapper did anything to Matilda, they would have no reason not to just find and arrest them. Matilda complicated matters, and the kidnapper was smart enough to keep her as a shield. But that meant one thing for sure.

She wasn’t coming home any time soon.

Olivia heard her phone make a muffled ping in her pocket. Cautiously, she took it out and gasped involuntarily. It was another message from Matilda’s social media account. She opened it with shaking hands, reading the message from the kidnapper several times.

Find us where I was reborn.

Olivia stared at the message for a long time. What on earth could that mean? She couldn’t make any sense of it. Was the kidnapper referring to themself or pretending to message as Matilda? How was Olivia supposed to know of a place that meant rebirth to either of them when she had zero context?

When Brock returned from his call, she showed him the cryptic message, hoping he might be able to help, but he seemed stumped by the message too.

“The only thing I’m taking from this is that the kidnapper wants us to find them,” Brock said. “But why? And if they want us to find them, then why don’t they just tell us the location?”

“Because where is the fun in that?” Olivia muttered. “They’re playing a game with us, like they have been this whole time. I keep getting this odd feeling that they’re on our side… but that’s naive of me. They just want to throw us off again.”

“Well, whatever it means, we need to figure it out. Or find John. Or both.” Brock rubbed the back of his neck. “Think. Where would John run to?”

“I don’t think he has a place in mind. I don’t think he ever planned for this, never expected to need to run. So I think wherever he is won’t follow any kind of rational thought,” Olivia said. “I think he just got in his car and drove away. For him to have a plan he would actually have to believe it was possible for him to be caught.”

“You’re right, he’s too cocky for that,” Brock agreed. “Well, the APB might catch him. We got here fast.”

“He’s still got a head start,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “We have to assume we won’t find him right away. Which means two things. One, we keep gathering evidence against him, including more abuse allegations. Matilda opened it up to the people, asking them to tell their stories, so I think we should lean into that, show the kidnapper that we’re listening and learning. Perhaps we should do a press release about John and the information we have so far, add fuel to the fire against him, then open a hotline, ask for people to come forward with any information they have that can help bring him down. With Hugh’s approval, of course.”

“I can’t see how he can refuse us at this point. By following the rules, the kidnapper rewards us,” Brock said. “And then what?”

Olivia took a deep breath. “Then, we need to try and solve the riddle the kidnapper sent. If we manage that, we find the kidnapper. And if we do that, we find Matilda.”

“Simple, right?” Brock sighed.

“Simple.”

The videos of Matilda and John that hit the news set off a chain reaction bigger than Olivia could ever have expected. They called a press conference the day following John’s disappearance, appealing to the public and revealing what they knew so far. Olivia left out the story of John’s finances, not wanting to play their hands against the Pereira family too soon, but the rest she told. Caroline allowed them permission to talk about the abuse she had endured, while also escaping to a safe house where John wouldn’t be able to find her. After speaking to Madam Eleanor on the phone, she allowed for some details about the brothel attack to be released. She was still unsure about releasing the tapes, but it didn’t matter for the moment, Olivia decided. They had enough to feed the public, enough to make them hunger for revenge against John.

The FBI opened up a hotline where people could call in with their stories about John, and it was absolutely swamped with calls. With little in the way of leads, Brock and Olivia sat with the hotline themselves, answering calls and listening to other messages left on the answering machines when the lines got too swamped. Olivia felt breathless as she listened to each testimony, wondering how he had managed to get away with so much for so long. The calls seemed endless, some of them in such depressing depth that Olivia had to walk away a few times just to catch her breath, to escape the horror of it all for a while. There were allegations of rape, of threats, of abuse. Co-workers called, old college contacts got in touch, and even strangers who had simply experienced him in chance encounters called to talk about their experiences.

It was evident that not all of the calls made were reliable. They received a lot of calls from within prisons that they were automatically taking with a pinch of salt. They were just scorned prisoners looking to get back at the man who put them in prison. Then, as expected, there were a bunch of prank calls too, which often happened on a hotline.

But some of the stories were heart-wrenching. It turned out that John’s reputation was never as clean as he made out. Multiple anonymous women reported their experiences with him, claiming that he had been inappropriate with them in some manner. There was a woman who had been in the bar the night of the footage who claimed that he tried to make advances on her even after she said no, which made him angry just before he left the bar. Olivia thought it made sense, perhaps explaining why he was riled enough to go home and abuse Caroline. There was another woman who claimed that she met John at a work event and he was caught trying to slip something into her drink. She never reported it for fear of losing her job, but she never attended the event again out of fear, afraid of what might have been had she not spotted the roofie being planted in her drink. It was enough to traumatize her for life.

The problem was, these claims couldn’t easily be backed up with evidence. Many of them were from so long ago that it would be near impossible to go back and find any sort of evidence too. It was frustrating, hearing these stories and knowing that none of them would be useful to their case in the end. Olivia believed most of the accounts - having experienced John first hand, she believed him capable of it all and more. But that wasn’t enough in a court of law to find someone guilty.

And that was when they received a call that changed the game.

“Hi… this is Aisha Castle,” the woman on the line said anxiously. “I debated making this call… but I wanted to help. I knew John at Yale. I have a story about him that I haven’t told anyone yet… but I want to meet in person to talk about it. If you’d like to meet me, I’ll be at Bob’s Diner in the city at 4 pm. I’ll wait there for a few hours. I’ll be the woman in the polka dot top and blonde hair. If you want to talk, come to the diner.”

Brock and Olivia exchanged a glance as they finished listening to the message.

“We have to go, right?” Brock said. Olivia nodded.

“I think so. If she knew him back at Yale, then she will likely have some interesting things to say about him,” Olivia said. “And if she wants to meet in person, I bet she’s serious about this whole thing.”

“Then we will be too,” Brock said with a nod. “We’ll finish up here and then head over just before four.”

They spent the rest of their afternoon following up on some leads on John’s possible whereabouts. They discovered that his car had been found just outside the city, but with no trace of him anywhere around. Looks like he started using his brain, Olivia thought. She imagined him on the run, absolutely frantic as he tried to figure out how he was going to get away. We’ll find you, John. Don’t work too hard at it, she thought.

But when the meetup time crept closer and their leads ran dry once again, they headed out into the city to meet Aisha. Olivia knew that whatever she had kept a secret for the last thirty years couldn’t be good, so she steeled herself for an uncomfortable conversation.

They spotted Aisha right away when they went into the diner. She was sitting in a booth by the window, as promised wearing a polka dot top. She had her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, as if she needed the warmth of it to comfort her, to give her courage. She looked anxious, her lips chapped as she chewed on them. She had made an effort for the occasion, donning foundation and pink lipstick. She looked put together, but Olivia could bet that on the inside, she was falling apart. Whatever she intended to tell them had been a burden on her shoulders for over half of her life. It wasn’t going to be easy for her to open up.

She seemed to sense them approaching her, or perhaps she was looking for her confidant in every face that passed. But when Olivia gave her a reassuring smile, Aisha rose from her seat, almost spilling her coffee in the process. She reached to shake each of their hands.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m Aisha.”

“I’m Brock, this is Olivia,” Brock told her. “We work with the FBI and we’ve been investigating the case of John’s missing daughter for the past few weeks. It has sort of looped us back to investigate him, so we’re doing some digging into his past. We got your call and thought you might be able to tell us something important that will help our case against him.”

“I hope so,” Aisha said quietly. “I didn’t know if coming here was such a good idea… but I figured there’s nothing he can do to harm me that he hasn’t already done. And now that he’s a wanted man, my story might hold some weight. It didn’t back then… but maybe now.”

“I hope so too. Tell us in your own time what your experience with him was,” Olivia said, sitting down in the booth, offering Aisha a reassuring nod. “Was John a friend of yours?”

Aisha fidgeted, looking like she wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

“Yes, he was… well, I considered him one at the time, I guess. Looking back… he was no friend of mine,” Aisha said. She gripped her coffee cup again, a clutch to ground her in the moment. “It was our senior year, our final year, when the incident happened. I’d recently gone through a breakup and I guess I was feeling a little wilder than usual. We had nearly finished college forever and I felt like I’d wasted half my time. I wanted to do something fun. John offered to take me out. We had been friends since freshman year, and I hadn’t seen much of him for a while, so I thought I may as well catch up with him. But he took me to a party with a bunch of people I didn’t really know,” she said, her voice quiet, but steady. “He was my only friend there. And that’s all we were—friends. He’d asked me out on a date once when we first got to college, but I was dating someone at the time and we ended up being friends. I never thought about him in that way, and I assumed he saw me as a friend too. I was a little nervous about the party, but he assured me that he wouldn’t leave my side. I remember he put an arm around my shoulder and I felt… I felt protected by him. I told myself to loosen up, to relax a little. I was so naive.” She paused, swallowing anxiously.

“We stopped at a store along the way and he told me to wait outside while he bought beer. I thought nothing of it. I figured he was just going to pick something up, so it didn’t seem unusual at the time. When he came back out, he had already opened a bottle of beer for me. He gave it to me to drink as we walked. I said it would probably be my only drink of the night; I didn’t want to go too crazy. He said that was fine. But I don’t recall getting to the party.”

Aisha paused to take a breath, staring down at the table in front of her. Olivia waited patiently, feeling the weight of Aisha’s silence. After the other stories she had heard on the hotline, she could already guess what came next.

“I can only remember tiny snippets of that night. I remember someone telling me that they should help me get home… but I told them I was fine. But I hadn’t touched another drink and I was out of control. That one beer had sent me into a level of drunkenness I had never known. I could barely stand on my own two feet. It took me years to realize that he had slipped something into my beer in the store. I told myself I was a lightweight, that it was my own fault. I blamed myself. I blamed myself when I woke up the following day and John was in my bed with me. When he woke up, I tried to ask him what happened. I knew in my heart that we had slept together, though I didn’t recall it, didn’t feel any signs of it happening. But he laughed it off. He said we just had some fun. But I never would’ve done that if I was sound of mind. I wasn’t attracted to him. I never wanted that from him. So I was torn. I felt I couldn’t tell him that I was mad about it. I didn’t understand then that he set me up… spiked my drink. Raped me. But I felt so much…guilt. I wasn’t the type to sleep around and the whole thing made me feel dirty, though I couldn’t explain why.”

Tears started to well up in the woman’s eyes. Olivia reached forward and wordlessly squeezed her hand.

“When I went back to class on Monday, everyone was whispering whenever I walked by. A friend of mine came over and said she had heard I was throwing myself at John all weekend. I told her I didn’t remember. But the story had already been written. No one wanted to know my side of the story, even as I tried to explain what had gone on. It was so odd. Everyone was treating John like he was some kind of hero, the one to finally get some unlocked wild side out of me. But I was seen as a kind of pariah. A desperate girl who kept throwing herself at a man who was completely nonchalant about her. That’s what I heard through the rumor mill. I couldn’t understand why he was being praised while I was being vilified for something I didn’t even remember. So I kept my head down and just got on with things. I knew somewhere deep down that what had occurred between me and John was wrong, but I couldn’t put it into words. I knew speaking up about it would only make things worse. And the worst thing was that he didn’t seem to care. Didn’t care how his actions had made me the subject of ridicule, didn’t care that he had ruined everything for me. We stopped talking after that day. He never tried to follow up with me, never tried to see why I had cut him off. He knew. I knew. I’m sure he realized that it was safer for him to keep his distance, anyway. That way he could get away with it without the truth ever catching up to him. And how could I tell the full truth when it had been stolen from my memory?”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Brock said. Aisha swallowed, wiping a tear away from her face.

“I appreciate that. It was a long time ago… and yes, I’m over it, for the most part. But it took me a long time to trust again. My husband found me as a broken woman, and he managed to put me back together, with time and patience. But I think of John often. In fact… there’s one more thing I have to tell you.” She paused, swallowing back her fear. “You’re not the first person I told my story to. Back then, I confided in a teacher about what had happened. The university launched a private investigation, but it was ultimately unsuccessful. And of course, because it was private, naturally everyone found out about it, like it was some kind of dirty rumor. Someone wrote an article for the college paper, talking about baseless accusations and the effect that they can have. They didn’t name me, but they did describe me as an English major. I suppose that article is still in the Yale archives somewhere, or maybe it’s even been digitized, I don’t know, but someone found it recently… they reached out to me about it anonymously. They had been asking around the graduate class of that year to find out who the article was about. My name was mentioned by multiple people, and so this person tracked me down. They… they told me that they believed me. They wanted to hear my story. And… and it felt good to be heard, even all these years later. So I told them everything. They told me that a time would come where I could tell my story again. So when I saw that John was a wanted man… I knew my time had come. And here we are.”

“You have no idea who this person was that reached out to you?” Olivia asked. Aisha shook her head.

“They didn’t give me a name. I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman. I think the email threw me off and I didn’t really question anything. I just wanted to talk to someone about it after so long. I don’t really know what made me trust them enough to tell them everything… but I’m glad that I did. It felt good to say it. It feels good to say it now too.”

“I bet,” Olivia said with a smile that Aisha tentatively returned.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about the person who contacted me. I could give you their email address, but when I went to message them again sometime after, I found the email had been deleted.”

“Do you remember the email address?” Brock asked. “It could be helpful.”

“Yes, it was a Gmail account. The user address was thesevensins.”

Olivia and Brock exchanged a glance. Of course it was, Olivia thought. At least it showed that Aisha’s story was relevant to the stacking evidence against John.

“Hopefully, we can use your story to keep piling the charges on John once he’s caught,” Brock said gently. “It’s important, but we know that must have been hard for you. You did a good thing here today.”

“I haven’t got much else to offer you…”

“No need,” Brock insisted. “You’ve done more than enough.”

“There’s one more thing,” Aisha said as she stood up to leave. She handed Brock an envelope. “This was sent to me in the mail after I emailed with the anonymous person. There was a letter for me and then this envelope… the letter said that I should hand this to the person who came asking about John Grace.”

“Thank you,” Brock said, taking the envelope. As Aisha left, Brock was quick to open up the envelope.

“It’s another clue,” he said. Olivia peered over his shoulder to read it.

Find us close to home, but far from his solace.

“Hm,” Brock said. “I don’t know with this one. Any thoughts?”

“I think it means that the kidnapper didn’t take Matilda far away, but they went somewhere that John would never think to go,” Olivia said. “Somewhere he would be uncomfortable, perhaps.”

“Maybe we should search all of the locations where he’s been connected to his crimes so far,” Brock said. “It’s worth a shot. After all, every clue they’ve given us so far has connected perfectly into the case, into what is revealed to us eventually anyway. This might be our sign to retrace our steps.”

“Good thinking. I think now that John has run off, things may speed up,” Olivia said. “The clock is going to be against us. And if the kidnapper is in touch with us, I’ll bet that they’re talking to John too. Maybe he’s even got the same clues as us, or he’s being lured somewhere while they’re taunting him, trying to get him to do something stupid.”

“I doubt he’ll need much encouragement,” Brock scoffed. “Which only adds to the pressure.”

“Pressure is nothing new,” Olivia reminded him. “We’ve worked with higher stakes. If Matilda is working with the kidnapper too, at least we know she’s safe. This is about John, now, and finding the person who started this whole thing.”

“Then let’s go,” Brock said.

The next two days passed in a blur. Olivia and Brock spent some time retracing their steps, hoping that they might find some further clues or an indication of where the kidnapper might be hiding out. They revisited Madam Eleanor at the brothel and asked if she had seen anything unusual, but she was adamant that nothing had happened since they’d last seen her. They also visited John’s old home where the first graffiti was found. The old man who lived in the house did his best to be helpful, but he told them the same thing he’d told the police: he hadn’t heard anyone outside his home—he was practically deaf—and there were no witnesses that night. In other words, it was a dead end.

They decided also to visit places that were important to John, places where the kidnapper might think to leave clues or hold his daughter. After all, every path in the case led back to John and the attempt to humiliate him.

“What do we think about the remaining sins?” Olivia said to Brock as they left the courthouse where John spent so much time, with no clues to work with. “There’s Envy and Sloth… I don’t know how either could come into play.”

“Well, envy could be anything,” Brock said. “As for sloth… I don’t really know. He doesn’t exactly strike me as a lazy person…”

“Sloth usually refers more to lack of interest in spirituality, or lack of interest in being good,” Olivia said.

“Well, I think we can pretty much say that he’s got no interest in that,” Brock said, shaking his head. “I suppose then that could link in with everything we already know. Who knows, maybe the kidnapper didn’t think this far ahead… maybe they thought it would all be over by now, that they wouldn’t need to visit every single sin…”

Olivia chuckled. “I really doubt this highly organized kidnapper with impeccable storytelling and elaborate production values would be so sloppy. But it’s interesting that we never thought about religion. Maybe sloth will be about John’s lack of spirituality… but then, why would that matter to the kidnapper? Plenty of people aren’t religious in modern America. Surely that’s not a sin on its own?”

“Unless… unless you care about religion deeply yourself,” Brock pointed out. That thought stopped Olivia in her tracks. What did they know about this kidnapper? Not much at all. But they did know that the deadly sins were focal to their entire performance. They had assumed that Matilda was the connection to the deadly sins with her interest in them, but what if it was the kidnapper’s obsession just as much as it was hers? What if they were looking at the sins from a religious angle?

“I think we’ve been approaching this wrong,” Olivia said, her heart thudding fast in her chest. “I think the core of this could be religion. They want to bring judgment to John… what if they think this is the will of God? That they will expose sin and evil and it’ll make them a good person?”

“It’s definitely possible,” Brock said with an enthusiastic nod. “But it still leaves us with little clue of who this person is. It could be anyone.”

“It’s something, though,” Olivia said. “We have to use what little we have. Let’s follow up on it, see if there’s anything we missed.”

But later that evening, as they sat in their hotel room with their case files open, Olivia was still none the wiser. She screwed up her forehead and read the same information over and over until her eyes blurred and she felt like screaming at the pages before her.

“You’ll give yourself wrinkles,” Brock said, smoothing out her forehead to make her laugh. But Olivia wasn’t in the mood. She could sense that they were close, close enough to touch. And yet they still hadn’t moved forward, still had no leads on their kidnapper, or on John’s whereabouts.

“I’m driving myself insane,” she muttered. She had a headache forming behind her eyes.

“Let’s sleep on it and come back to it in the morning,” Brock said with a gentle smile. “We haven’t had a single suspect this entire case, unless you count Duarte. We made some progress today… let’s count that as a win.”

“I can’t count that as a win when nothing has changed, nothing has moved,” Olivia said, putting her head in her hands in despair. “This job, man…it can be really hard sometimes.”

“That it can,” Brock said, kissing the top of her head. “But it’s always worth it, right?”

Olivia sniffed and nodded. “Right. You’re right. I guess it just got to me a bit today.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself or apologize, okay? There are days where it really gets to me too.”

Olivia gently rested her head on Brock’s chest, closing her eyes for a minute.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. We’ll start again in the morning.”

Olivia obliged, sliding into the bed and allowing Brock to put his comforting arms around her. She let out a tired sigh, letting the tension leave her body and snuggling up against Brock. Something about being next to him was like she was recharging her own battery, feeling herself getting stronger with each passing moment. She threaded her fingers through his, like she was locking him in place.

“I love you,” Olivia whispered. Brock chuckled.

“What brought that on?”

“I just do. I wanted to say it,” Olivia murmured. Moments later, she was asleep, hearing Brock whisper in her ear that he loved her too.

Olivia woke the following day to the sound of her alarm, a rare occurrence. She very rarely made it to her alarm, usually waking up well before it. She blinked blearily and sat up, feeling completely out of sorts. Brock was already up and dressed, sitting on the hotel room’s only chair drinking coffee. He had the case files on his lap. He smiled over at Olivia.

“Morning, sleepy head. Feeling any better?”

She groaned, rubbing at her throbbing head. Her mouth was dry, like she hadn’t drunk water in three days. In truth, she couldn’t remember when she had last drunk something other than coffee.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“So an improvement, then?” Brock said, the corners of his mouth upturning. “I got you a glass of water.”

Sure enough, there was a glass of water waiting by her bedside. She frowned and took a few sips.

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” Brock reminded her. “You’ll feel better if you drink it.”

Olivia began to gulp down the glass of water, feeling a little better as the glass drained. She stood up and stretched, hoping that she would feel more alive soon.

“I guess we should get back out there,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“The world can wait,” Brock said. “Besides, I’m on it. I’ve been up a while, reviewing some of the evidence.”

“I bet that took all of five minutes,” Olivia said grouchily. “We hardly have anything to go on.”

“Go and get a nice shower, grump. Take your time. I’m keeping an eye on things.”

Olivia was too bleary-eyed to argue too much. She shuffled through to the bathroom, hoping the shower might make her feel more like a human being again. The hot water felt like it was seeping into her bones, bringing her back to life. She sighed and stood for a while under the warm stream. She imagined she was in her shower back at their new house, about to spend a sleepy Sunday in the backyard with Brock, good coffee and maybe a pastry. She felt a pang of homesickness and then immediately felt guilty. She had no right to feel homesick while Matilda was out there somewhere, stolen from her home and afraid of what might happen to her. That sobered Olivia up. She finished her shower quickly and told herself to pull it together. Today is the day, she told herself. You’re going to make progress today.

After quickly getting dressed, Olivia reached for her phone and found that there was a new message waiting for her.

“Brock,” she said. “New message from the kidnapper. Five minutes ago.”

“Read it out,” he said urgently, already on his feet. Olivia swallowed.

John knows where we are. We’ve summoned him to us to face his judgment. Join us.

Find us where the kaleidoscope shines light on the darkest souls.

“They must have told John where to find them,” Brock said urgently. “Time’s up. They’re trying to end this today.”

“A kaleidoscope…” Olivia murmured. “What creates a kaleidoscope?”

“It’s a church,” Brock said suddenly. “It has to be. Stained-glass windows, they shine light on John’s sins… all the clues are coming together. A place where the kidnapper was reborn, but John finds no solace. He’s not religious, but maybe the kidnapper is… a rebirth could refer to baptism, a new lease of life given to them by the church. Maybe all this talk of sin has been about religion all along.”

“That would narrow things down massively,” Olivia said. “They said it was close to home… to Matilda’s home or John’s, do we think?”

“Maybe they mean, close to the only house that John and Matilda both called home,” Brock ventured. “It makes the most sense, and it’s where this whole thing seemed to begin. This person clearly cares about the symbolism of it all, so it feels like this would take us full circle.”

“Okay, then this is what we need to do. We need to look for Catholic churches in the vicinity of the house and then call to see if there’s been any unusual activity at any of them, see if any of them know John, perhaps. We might be the only ones aware that something is amiss. I get the feeling that they’re waiting for us to get to them too, not just John. It’s like they want us there to see it all unfold.”

“Let’s start making calls.”

They found four churches in the area close to the home John had once shared with Matilda and Caroline. They called one each, asking about John and if they had seen any unusual activity. Neither church had any idea of what Brock and Olivia were talking about. But when Olivia called the third church, the call was picked up immediately.

“Hello? Who is this?” a sharp voice asked.

“Hi. I’m with the FBI, and I’m investigating—”

“Thank goodness. I think something is wrong,” the voice on the other end said, trembling. “I arrived at my church this morning to find it defiled and the door blocked… someone has graffitied the word Sinner on the pavement outside the church… I can’t understand why someone would do this…”

“Do not try to enter that church,” Olivia said urgently. “We believe there is a dangerous criminal inside. We’re on our way, stay on the line with us.”

“Goodness me… what is the meaning of all of this?”

But Olivia and Brock didn’t have time to respond. They were already rushing to their car. This had to be the work of the kidnapper, right down to the red graffiti outside the church. It was a calling card, and a call to action. The kidnapper really did want to be found. Olivia and Brock couldn’t ignore the summoning.

“Drive,” Olivia urged Brock.

“What’s happening?” the voice on the other end of the line asked as Brock hit the gas. Olivia turned her attention back to the call.

“There are possibly several people inside your church. One who may intend harm. You need to put some distance between yourself and the building.”

“I cannot abandon the house of God! I should go in there and talk some sense into this person…”

“Absolutely not,” Olivia said firmly. “Please, we will only be fifteen minutes or so. Stay out of trouble and stay outside the church. We can’t risk anyone getting hurt.”

The man continued to argue with Olivia the entire drive to the church. She allowed it, knowing that for as long as he stayed on the phone, he wasn’t going inside the church. She suspected he was trying to look like a hero while actually keeping his distance entirely. As long as he stayed far away from the church, she didn’t care.

The call kept her distracted from the anxiety building inside her. As they got closer to the church, she knew that there was every chance that things had turned sour since they had last spoken with the kidnapper, that Matilda might be in danger. But she kept her fear at bay and plastered hope over the top. They couldn’t wait another minute. They had to be on top of their game.

“Is that you pulling up now?” the man on the phone asked. “Please hurry.”

Olivia hung up the call as Brock stopped the car. They were both out of the car in an instant, armed in case things got out of control.

“Stay back,” Olivia warned the priest. “We’re going in now.”

They reached the doors and Brock used his shoulder to butt the wood, expecting a barricade, but someone had clearly removed it because the door bucked. It was like the kidnapper was inviting them inside.

“Go,” Olivia murmured.

Brock opened the church doors slowly, carefully now, his hand ready at his hip in case of danger. But the church was eerily quiet, save for the sound of labored breathing.

There was a figure kneeling at the altar. It was John. His shirt was untucked from his pants, his hair wild, his breathing ragged. At first, Olivia thought he had been harmed, attacked in some way, but he appeared to be unharmed. Just unraveled.

“John?” Olivia probed. He turned to her, wildness in his eyes.

“They made me come here,” he snarled. “They said it was the only way out of this…”

“John, listen.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” John cried out, spittle covering his lip, his eyes wild as he rose his hands to the altar, like his fate was in the hands of God himself.

That was when Olivia saw the figure coming out of the shadows. They moved slowly, intentionally. They smiled at John, a gentle smile that Olivia hadn’t been expecting. Something wasn’t adding up in the scene before her.

“Thank you for coming, John,” the nun said. “It’s time to face your sins.”

“I should tell you, John, that this is being livestreamed,” the nun said, threading her fingers in front of her, a kind smile fixated on her face. There was no fakery to the smile, either. It really seemed genuine. It made the whole scene even more unnerving. This slight woman, this woman of God, was a mastermind to a kidnapping plot? The woman who had overseen the entire downfall of John Grace? Olivia didn’t understand, not yet. But she felt she was about to.

“The cameras are set up all around the room to capture this moment… you know why you’re here, though you didn’t play by the rules we set out for you,” the nun said. Then she smiled at Brock and Olivia. “Though I would like to thank the dutiful FBI members who helped me to uncover you for who you really are. I didn’t know if you would be willing to help, given the strange circumstances, but you followed every lead I gave you and you helped to make John’s crimes public knowledge. That’s all I ever wanted. So I want to thank you.”

“We don’t want your thanks. We want to know that Matilda is safe. That’s why we did this,” Brock said, his voice low and angry. But the nun barely blinked at his tone. She simply continued to smile, pleasantly, unthreateningly. Olivia was baffled by the whole performance. Where was this going?

“You can come out now, Matilda,” the nun said, looking at the door where she had just appeared from. Olivia watched in shock as Matilda walked into the room of her own accord. Gone was the disheveled girl from the last video they’d seen. She looked absolutely fine, her hair combed neatly, her clothes fresh, her skin clean. And that was when Olivia understood that something about that video had been misleading. Matilda smiled at them like she wasn’t in the middle of a kidnapping plot. And when she smiled at the nun, there was something so familiar between them that Olivia felt like she had missed something.

Matilda came to a stop beside the nun, putting a gentle hand on her arm. Given the circumstances, the gesture seemed completely bizarre. Olivia didn’t think she had ever been so confused by a turn of events. The young nun turned to Olivia and Brock.

“I would like to ask that you discard your firearms. This is the house of God, after all. And I can assure you, I don’t intend to harm any of you. I only brought you all here to do the work of the Lord and to ensure that justice is served.”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that,” Brock said. “In all honesty, we don’t know that we can trust your word after everything you’ve pulled off.”

“That’s fair. You don’t know me yet. You don’t know that my intentions are good,” the nun said. “I know that this all looks bad, that you might feel tricked and played for a while. But by the time we’re done here, my hope is that you’ll feel comfortable enough to trust me.”

“Who the hell are you?” John seethed, trying desperately to catch his breath. The nun exchanged a glance with Matilda who scoffed in disgust.

“Figures,” Matilda said. “You never did care to get to know my friends. Until it suited you.”

“Allow me to reintroduce myself,” the nun said calmly. “My name is Sister Gail, but that is not the name I once went by. You might remember me as Abigail Mallett. I grew up on the same street as you, John. We’ve met many times before. I was a good friend of your daughter’s. I went to your house many times growing up. Do you recall now, or should I remind you further?”

She said the whole thing so pleasantly that it was almost possible to miss the dark undertone of the conversation. But Olivia could sense that there was something bubbling beneath the surface.

Sister Gail stepped forward and placed a hand on John’s shoulder. He was still on his knees on the ground. He began to tremble under her touch, but there was kindness in Sister Gail’s eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you. It is against my beliefs to harm another person. And it is not suffering I wish upon you, but clarity… and a chance to find it within myself to forgive you. I want you to see yourself as I have seen you for these many years. The monster I see in my dreams. You might not remember me, but I remember you all too well.”

John was too stunned to do anything. Matilda moved towards him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to his feet. She then made him sit down in the chair in the center of the room. He didn’t struggle as she tied him to it and then wrote something on his forehead in red marker.

SLOTH.

The nun approached John again, coming to a standstill in front of him. There was something so intimidating and powerful about her calm presence, the way she stared at this man who had clearly hurt her, but didn’t lose her temper, didn’t raise her voice, didn’t do all the things he would have done if the tables were turned. John clearly feared her and whatever she was going to say. He stared back silently, finally subdued. Sister Gail traced the word written on his forehead with her finger.

“Sloth is a sin that cannot be excused,” she said. “Though you have done so much worse. But had you stayed on the right path with God at your side, then perhaps you wouldn’t have been compelled to do such evil things.” She shook her head. “But you turned your back on God long ago. I once lost sight of him. That was your doing. I didn’t think I was deserving of his light anymore. But God guided me to this place. Here, with you. I always wondered how I would feel when I saw your face again. When I laid my eyes on the person who ruined me. I thought I would feel anger. But I just feel peace. I know that today is the day that you will be judged for the life you have lived.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” John spat at Sister Gail, recovering enough to bring back his cruelty for a moment. “Speak plainly.”

“As you wish,” Sister Gail said, her voice unwavering. She glanced at Olivia and Brock. “What I’m about to say is harder to prove than any of the evidence I have presented you with so far. Which is why I left it until last. I had to ensure that my story was credible, as with everything else I have put forward so far. It was Matilda’s idea, actually, to publicly show everyone the sins that her father has committed. You see, our friendship has been a long one, and a complicated one. All due to John, of course.”

“There never was a kidnapping. It was all planned this way. I came here of my own free will, and we planned how this would go down for months,” Matilda said. “It was important that everyone thought I was truly missing, that it all focused on my father bringing me home. I wanted to tell people so badly what I had planned. I wanted to tell my mom so she wouldn’t worry. But it had to feel real. It was the only way. And this was all with the plan of bringing him down. I wish I had done this years ago… showed someone the footage I took of Dad hurting Mom. But with a man like him, you can’t just fell him in one swoop. It has to be slow, a gradual breakdown. And I needed Gail to help me do what I was never brave enough to do alone: to tell the world who he is. We needed each other.” Matilda gave Sister Gail an encouraging nod. “Tell them. What he did to you.”

The nun swallowed, quickly signing the cross and looking skyward. Then, she made her appeal to the room and to everyone beyond it. To anyone watching the livestream. To her God, even. When she spoke, she ensured that everyone heard her voice.

“We were fifteen years old when it happened,” Sister Gail said. Her voice was quiet, but clear. “I spent the night in John’s home, an impromptu sleepover with Matilda. Usually we stayed at my house for sleepovers, but my mother was in the hospital unexpectedly, so Caroline agreed to have me over for a few days. John was supposed to be away for work, but he came home early. We crossed paths in the middle of the night as he came home. I was coming out of the bathroom. I had been crying, worrying about my mother. He acted like he was going to comfort me. And I remember thinking how nice he was at the time. Matilda had often said that she didn’t get along with her father, and at the time I couldn’t understand why. I thought he was so… so nice.”

Olivia saw the first sign of anger and hurt in Gail’s eyes as she was transported back to that night, to the night that changed her life. Whatever John had done, it had clearly scarred her for the longest time.

“He took me to his office, offered me a drink. He told me that I was a pretty young woman. That the world could be cruel to a pretty young woman.” Sister Gail turned to look at John directly, her expression unchanging as she stared him down. “He said he could never resist a pretty woman.”

Olivia’s blood ran cold.

“I had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen then,” she said. Her voice faltered to a whisper for a moment, but she forced herself to speak louder. “I looked at the door and he moved to close it. I spoke to God at that moment. I asked him to save me as he had saved me so many times before, but his intervention never came. I remember how John touched my face and I lost my hope. I spoke up and said I wanted to go back to bed. John said… he said he would make me feel better.”

Olivia was shaking with anger. She could guess what happened next. Sister Gail’s bottom lip began to tremble, but Matilda reached out and held her hand, squeezing it gently. The pair of them took a deep breath in unison. When it was done, Gail looked over at Olivia.

“He raped me,” Gail said plainly. “I begged him to stop, over and over again. It hurt. He knew that and he didn’t stop. Not even as I bled. He took… he took my innocence. He took something that I regarded as holy, something I wanted to savor. He took that from me without a thought. And everything else I held dear. When he was done, he walked away like nothing had happened. I tried to clean myself up in the bathroom, but I couldn’t stop feeling like he had made me dirty somehow. I went back to bed, beside Matilda, but I couldn’t sleep. She asked where I had been, but I couldn’t speak, couldn’t say aloud what had happened to me. The following morning, I left for home and didn’t go back to that house. I couldn’t bear to. Matilda tried to call me, but I ignored her.”

Olivia could see the pain etched on Matilda’s face. Sister Gail’s too. But they both held strong, their hands still interlocked. After a moment, Sister Gail continued her tale.

“God had always been my solace, but I lost my way for a while,” Gail said. She paused, swallowing like she had a lump in her throat. “I turned to drinking and drugs. My mother didn’t understand. She couldn’t see how my life had fallen apart so completely. But every night I slept fitfully, terrified of the man who lived only down the street from us. Terrified he would do what he did again. That he would come into my home in the night and hurt me as he did that night. And I couldn’t tell anyone. I was full of shame. I stopped speaking to Matilda too. I lost my truest friend for a while. And my issues got worse. I had to drop out of school and go into rehab. And when I came out again, I knew that the only way to truly heal was to turn back to God. To trust that his path for me was one I hadn’t yet walked. I never finished school. I joined the church. I was hopeful that if I dedicated my life to God, to community work and to charity, then I might be able to make up for the past. I hoped to become clean again. I hoped that God would help me forgive and to forget.” Sister Gail closed her eyes. “But that didn’t happen. I tried to live a pure life, but my heart was full of such anger. I confessed over and over to God that I could not bear to live with the trauma he had overseen. I blamed him. I blamed myself. But after many years of reflection, I saw that my destiny was in my own hands, that God was there only for guidance, to show me the right path to justice. I had to fix this for myself.”

Sister Gail turned to Matilda, standing solemnly at her side. They shared a painful smile, both of them locked together by the tragedies they had seen together because of the man in front of them.

“I reached out to Matilda two years ago,” Sister Gail said. “And I asked if she was willing to talk. I didn’t think I would hear back from her. I thought that perhaps she wouldn’t want to be associated with me again after the way I abandoned her the first time. But we talked, for a long time. I told her what happened that night. And then she revealed to me all of the ways her father had failed her too. The pain of her childhood, the abuse her mother suffered, the absence she felt in the lack of a loving father. We cried together. Prayed together. And we went our separate ways. I thought maybe that would be it. But then we carried on talking. We were both taking an interest in sin; she told me about Dante’s Divine Comedy, and I told her everything the Bible has taught me about sins and human nature. Together, we began to realize that we had a common cause. We didn’t want to live in fear of John Grace any longer. We didn’t want to have our lives defined by him.” She looked at Matilda. “Why don’t you tell everyone what happened next?”

“Happily,” Matilda said, a smile forming on her face. “The more we spoke, the more we realized that my father was guilty of much more than what he had done to us. I had a whole arsenal of information against him that I’d heard over the years, or when I went snooping on his computer as a kid. Then of course, there was the way he had abused my mom. I knew way more than he realized. During his yearly trip to Amsterdam, I found out why he was really going there. I had plenty under my belt to hurt his reputation. But I had to do it in the right way. That’s where Gail came in. We decided to make a statement to the world. Something unforgettable. A protest that people wouldn’t be able to ignore. But we knew that having our voices heard would be hard. Did you know that gender bias almost always tips in men’s favor, no matter the topic? A powerful man like my father was unlikely to ever have to face consequences, even if faced with a hundred women accusing him. And by the way, I know of at least fifteen women, Gail included, who suffered because of him in some way, so it’s crazy that it has taken this long for this to be taken seriously. I knew that was wrong. So we decided to flip the script. And to do that, we needed to take away that bias. That’s when we decided that we would stage a kidnapping and blackmail my father. An anonymous shady figure would steal me off the streets, and it would neutralize the bias. Imagine how people would’ve reacted if they found out a woman was behind all of this. They would have called her crazy, called her bitter, even. But she’s neither of those things. By hiding behind an anonymous form, we ensured she was being taken seriously.”

Olivia was impressed. She knew Matilda was a psychology student, but to take what she had learned and apply it to their master plan? That was next level intelligence. Matilda even looked a little proud of herself.

“Of course, I couldn’t be seen to be involved in trying to take down my father. We needed the public to have something to root for when the story hit the media. What better than a desperate father trying to save his daughter? Except we knew that he would never confess to his crimes. My life was never important enough to him that he would sacrifice himself. So we decided it had to look real. A plan began to form between us. We paid a group of students to black out the cameras on campus so there would be no sign of my disappearance, though they thought it was just a harmless prank. I set out plans for the day of my departure like breadcrumbs so people were expecting me to show up to places where I never arrived. Then I disappeared with Gail and no one was any the wiser. Then came the hard part: convincing everyone that I was terrified, missing, and waiting on my father to save me. But I’d been practicing. I think I gave a convincing performance. And of course, we knew how it would play out. As soon as he was told to confess, I bet his mind started racing, wondering which crime he should confess to to save his skin. Somehow, he landed on none. But we would never have been satisfied with just one anyway. We thought it would be fun to make a bit of a game of it. Seven sins for a man responsible for a hundred. We thought it would stick in people’s minds more.”

Olivia could hardly believe the mastery behind the plan. They had really thought of everything. And considering how calculated the whole thing was, now that they were having their moment, they didn’t seem smug, or wild, or scorned. They just seemed set on their task of winning over public opinion.

“But, we wanted to make sure everything was airtight, so we’ve been gathering evidence for the past two years,” Matilda continued. “I remember hearing my parents talking about a lawsuit that had been settled, probably about ten years ago. A woman named Leena Patel accused my father of misconduct at a work event. He paid her off, made her sign all sorts of waivers so that she wouldn’t talk about it anymore. But I dug it all up. That and others. It turns out that my father has been burying lawsuits since he was at college. Did I mention that he was also accused of rape by Aisha Castle during their time at Yale? I had to dig a lot to find that out. But these stories, these women, deserve to be heard. We hoped they would be willing to come forward, and when they realized they weren’t alone, they came in droves, with evidence of their hush money and contracts to back them up. So we have compiled a book of testimonies against him. Would you believe that it racks up to three hundred pages?”

“I’ve kept a blog since I was a child,” Sister Gail said. “Starting the day after John raped me. I knew that someday my words, logged in a corner of the internet that no one ever visits, might come into play. And waiting was worth it. I’ve logged years of trauma, years of how I felt after that night, years of how it changed my life. And now, perhaps someone will hear me. Someone will see the truth and my suffering won’t be for nothing. My blogs, timestamped and backdated for years, will be used in court, where I intend to testify against John Grace.”

“But we didn’t stop at the testimonies. We knew we needed more,” Matilda said. “That’s when Duarte Pereira appeared in my life. At first, I saw it as a bad omen. I knew there was no way we’d met by chance, that he had been sent to scout me out. But he surprised me. He told me how out of place he felt in his family, how he wanted a quiet life, a happy life. We fell for each other for real. And that’s when Duarte told me the most solid piece of evidence I had yet. He told me that my father—the man who preached about following the law, the man who condemned people to prison when they didn’t—was laundering money for his family. He had been forced to open a bank account where the money passed through. He was told that as the only clean member of the family, given that he was just a child when his father was arrested, he needed to be the one to receive the money. This connection meant we had something really solid on him, but I kept it under wraps. I wanted to be the one to reveal this to the world. We could’ve gone to the police right then and seen him put in jail, but where would be the satisfaction? And all the women who came forward… their stories would be buried in his financial crimes. I didn’t want that. So we decided to bide our time. All it took was a little hint from Gail last week and the FBI immediately uncovered everything they needed to know.”

“We could tell you all the ins and outs, but I don’t think that matters now. We have strong evidence against John that can put him away for three lifetimes,” Gail said.

“Some might see this whole debacle as an act of madness,” Matilda continued. “After all, between the two of us we have enough trauma to fill fifty lifetimes, all because of that man. And there have been times where we haven’t been stable. I’ve teetered on the edge more times than I can count. But we are both sound of mind as we stand here today, together, trying to fix everything he broke. And when people see just how deep his crimes run, no one can deny us our grievances.”

“But you see, we never intended to hurt anyone,” Sister Gail said. “We only wanted for us to use our time and knowledge to take this man down for what he did to us. To so many people. And we’re not even done here. There are angles being investigated by the FBI at this moment into the greed he has displayed over the years…”

“My father’s turbulent relationship with the Pereira family is hilariously hypocritical,” Matilda said with a smile. “I bet he thought he had hit the jackpot when he and Duarte went into business together. He thought he had found a way out of all of his money troubles. But all you were really doing, Father, was playing into our hands. All that dirty money running through his account was never touched by him; he’s even helping us to uncover the wider operation. As we speak, police are on their way to arrest Inez and other connected members of the family. As for our relationship… I’ll admit, we both started out with motives, Dad. I knew who he was when we met. I knew he was set-up to try and get to you in some manner. But we found trust in one another. We both wanted to clean ourselves of the dirt our families tried to bury us under. We kept our relationship quiet because we knew people wouldn’t understand. But I’ve never known anything so real. Not from you, not from anyone.”

John gritted his teeth, but he had absolutely nothing he could say. How could he defend himself now? He wasn’t even attempting it anymore.

“You know, Dad… I always wanted you to turn a corner. I hoped that maybe someday you could fix the past. Become a good man. Devote your life to being the man you always pretended to be,” Matilda said. She shook her head in disgust. “And that’s where the envy comes into play. Because some part of you always had some sort of loathing for me, for everything I was and everything I would become. Well, the feeling was mutual. All those times you made me pose for photo opportunities… and I hated you. I couldn’t put my finger on why back then, but I despised you so deeply. And you didn’t have a clue. You just thought I wasn’t supportive of you. But you have no idea the damage you did so casually over the years. You wanted everything I had: I was praised at school, told that I would be brilliant, told that the future was mine to hold in my hands. And your jealousy at that drove you wild, didn’t it? You couldn’t accept that I could have a better life than you were given, even though your life turned out pretty great. I remember how Grandma used to push you down, and as I got older, I understood how that shaped you into the monster you are now. Your own mother never saw potential in you, told you that you weren’t worth a thing. I supposed that was how you came to be such a misogynist, to hate and hurt women. It started with her and it carried on to my mother, to me. You never supported me or my dreams because you thought I might exceed you. You didn’t want me to go to Yale; you thought I would overshadow your achievements there. You pretended to care when I got my acceptance letter, tried to contact me and make out like you’d helped me get there. But it was never you. Mom helped me. I helped myself. But never you. Anything I achieve in life… it will never be credited to you. I bet that kills you a little inside.”

Matilda finally paused for breath, her tirade calming for a moment. She looked at John like he was a stranger, like she was only now beginning to understand that everything she claimed about him was actually true. She straightened up, holding her emotions at bay. “But you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something. Tell me I’m wrong. Convince me that I haven’t been demonizing you for years for no reason.”

John and Matilda stared at one another for a long, quiet moment. Olivia could see John’s entire life flashing before his eyes, every moment of ruin coming crashing down on him. But then his expression hardened, the betrayal he was experiencing finally making its mark.

“I won’t be saying anything else until I have a lawyer.”

Matilda smiled sadly. “Figures. I thought you might want to apologize, at least. Say sorry for all of the things we have just brought up to you. The hardest things we ever lived through, by the way. But for you to apologize would mean that we got through to you, and that was never going to happen. Maybe, though, we might have resonated with someone out there.”

Matilda glanced at Sister Gail and they nodded to one another. Then they both presented their wrists to Olivia and Brock, like a peace offering of sorts.

“We understand that what we did here today was complicated legally. We will not resist arrest. Our work here is done and we won’t cause any further trouble,” Sister Gail said solemnly. Olivia wasn’t sure what to do. It was true, the young women had caused chaos. But everything they had done was with good intentions. They had done the near impossible by showing the world who John Grace truly was. They had allowed a space for women to come forward and tell their experiences without shame or rejection. She looked at the two girls and didn’t see criminals. She saw heroes.

But that wasn’t how her job worked. They had broken the law at least several times, commandeering private property, blackmailing John and manipulating the FBI. She thought for now it might be best to treat them as criminals and go from there, though it was the last thing they wanted to do.

“We’ll take you in for some further questioning,” Olivia said, stepping forward. “This is too complicated to make any decisions here.”

“We understand,” Matilda said. She didn’t look upset any longer. There was a smile playing on her lips. “Thank you for trying to find me,” she said softly. “I know you might feel angry with me for how we went about this… but it was nice to know my case was in good hands.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Olivia said with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re safe. That’s all I care about right now. I’ll call your mom in a moment and let her know you’re safe.”

“Thank you,” Matilda said earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

She and Brock carefully cuffed them and she asked Brock to take them out to the car, leaving Olivia alone with John. His eyes bore into her as she moved to untie him from the chair.

“Help me,” he said, one last desperate attempt to get out unscathed. “What is it that you want? I can make sure you’re paid well for your help. Is that what you want?”

She almost laughed. Did the man have no shame? After all she had heard, did he really believe that money would be enough to sway her opinion of him? Now, the world could see him for who he was, and so could she. She cuffed his hands and leaned close to his ear, aware that there were cameras still livestreaming the whole thing somewhere in the room.

“Why would I ever help you now?” she said quietly. “You’re going exactly where you belong. I’m going to see to it personally.”

John’s hope faded from his face one final time. Olivia hauled him up off the chair and escorted him from the church, keeping a firm grip on him. You can’t run away from everything this time, she thought. As she handed John over to Brock at the car and moved to close the door of the church, the sun came out from behind a cloud, shining light through the stained-glass window. A kaleidoscope of color washed over the seat where John had faced his judgment for a moment before disappearing.

The next few days were some of the wildest of Olivia and Brock’s shared career, second only to when they had been blasted all over the news during their run-ins with the Gamemaster. The livestream that Sister Gail and Matilda had done in the church had been watched by over a million people, putting Olivia and Brock front and center in the whole thing. As arrests were made and questioning was underway, they were hounded for more information, but Olivia and Brock felt they weren’t the ones with the answers, or even the control over the situation. Matilda and Gail took it all in stride, offering innocent smiles to every camera shoved into their faces. They were leading the way, like they had been all along.

They repeated their story over and over. No one quite knew what to do with them, a rogue nun and a disgraced Yale student. They were both liars, but they did it for a good reason. It was quite a moral conundrum, and they were quite the pair. And it was their pairing that seemed to capture the public like nothing else. There were women telling their stories all over the internet, praising Matilda and Gail for their candor and their clever approach to the matter. Then there were the playful youth, teenage girls claiming that they were going as Sister Gail for Halloween, declaring that being a hot nun was cool now. To Olivia, it looked like they might have missed the message slightly, but at least she knew people were listening. It gave her comfort as she was forced to go about her job, to remain neutral when it came to Gail and Matilda. She hoped they would both be okay, that the courts would find some way to ensure they weren’t punished, or at least not too harshly. They were icons to the public now, and everyone seemed to be interested in what they had to say.

And that wasn’t all. It turned out that both of the girls had scheduled posts to go live on social media during their time in police custody. Those posts were advertising the book they had put together about John Grace, which had been self-published the day they exposed him to the public. The title made Brock chuckle: A Fall From Grace. Now, posts were going live with captions like The Truth Will Come Out and We Won’t Be Silenced. They also declared that all profits made from the book would be going straight to assisting those affected by sexual assault. The posts were gaining a lot of traction online, and the book became a bestseller within twelve hours of publication. It was unexpected, and yet Olivia was here for it. When she had a moment of peace, she quietly found the book online and ordered a copy, telling herself she had to read it for any court appearances she’d need to make. Really, she felt she was supporting the girls.

As for John, there was no doubt that he was going to prison for a long time. Olivia and Brock spoke with the FBI team that had been investigating John’s finances, and they had gathered an even larger amount of evidence than expected. Plus, they were unearthing more and more information about various debts: not just gambling debts, but maxed out credit cards and loan sharks. As John quickly toppled over, he seemed to be taking out a whole slew of people with him. Various members of the Pereira family were now being questioned too, including Duarte, who had come with carefully prepared evidence of his assistance in Matilda’s scheme. He was all too happy to comply and prove his innocence.

And the accusations kept coming. More and more people were coming forward with tales about John. On the day after the initial arrests, Eleanor got in touch, quietly handing over the tapes from the night that John abused Bella and Kiki. Olivia thanked her for her help. She knew that those tapes were more vital than any testimony they would hear in court. It was cold, indisputable, horrible evidence. It was proof that even if Gail and Matilda had to lie to get attention that they had good reason to do so. They had thought of everything so carefully, ensuring that there were no pot holes that would trip them up and stop them from being believed. Olivia was sure that John would never pay for every single one of his crimes, but there was no chance of him getting away, no chance of him ever recovering his pristine reputation.

But it did make Olivia sad that it would be easier to put him away for fraud than it would for his abuse. She didn’t care much about his financial crimes. She cared about every woman he had hurt so cruelly, so deliberately, leaving a mark on them that they could never scrub away. It pained her to know that only one or two of those women would see John charged for what he did to them. Many of the cases were simply too old, going beyond the statute of limitations for assault cases, or simply with not enough documentation to make the charges stick. Many of those women who had been abused by John had lived without justice for years… and they would continue to do so. They’d won in so many ways, but in others, Olivia felt like they’d failed. It was an impossible balancing act, and one that couldn’t be defined so easily, but it hurt to know that justice didn’t always tip perfectly in the right direction.

This all played on her mind for hours. By the time they were able to leave the police station, she was exhausted by it all. She was ready to switch off her mind for a while, to escape to a place where she wasn’t plagued by the horrors those women went through. But it was never that simple in her line of work. The stories she came across every day often followed her home and lived with her for a long time, like squatters she couldn’t get rid of.

Olivia was quiet on the drive home back to Belle Grove, and it hadn’t escaped Brock’s notice. He put a hand on her leg as he drove.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked her. Olivia sighed.

“I guess I’m just thinking about the case and everything we uncovered about John. The lengths those poor girls went to in order to expose him… Imagine how much of a toll it had on them, Brock. All because he held a position of power and they were certain that no one would believe them. And then the hordes of other women who suffered at his hand… not to mention the havoc he caused in people’s lives by being involved in the drug trade.”

“He cast a wide net,” Brock agreed. “And it was bad. But look at what we achieved today. Look how many people’s lives were affected by John’s arrest, in a good way. It helped to uncover wider criminal activity too, which can never be a bad thing. Look at what those strong women pulled off by taking a risk.”

“And now they might be punished for it.”

Brock sighed. “Yeah, it’s messed up. But they made that choice themselves, knowing they might land themselves in hot water as a result. They decided it was worth the risk. And you know what? I think it was. The attention this drew was crazy. People want to hear more from them. Their risk has paid off, even if there are consequences to it. And they’re not done yet, of course. Now that they’ve published their book about how they pulled it all off, and they’re telling the stories of those other women… that’s going to have a real impact. It might change people’s prejudices, their biases… or at least make them think before they judge. Someday, it might affect the way that we conduct rape cases when evidence isn’t always easy to come by, all because Matilda studied bias and applied it to this case to help those women be believed. The implications of this could be huge.”

Olivia nodded. “I know. But I hate that so many lives had to be ruined for that to become a possibility. I hate how much hurt they had to gather and how long they had to feel it before they could make their voices heard. Their bravery is unmatched… but they didn’t change the world today. I guess it just bums me out a little to experience a case like this.”

“I get it,” Brock said, squeezing her leg. “But you have to see the bright side of it. That’s one awful man behind bars. There were a lot of wins for those women today. I bet there are others that didn’t come forward who felt the benefit of it too. It might not be a perfect win… but that doesn’t take away from what was achieved. I promise.”

Olivia squeezed Brock’s hand to let him know she had heard him, but it still weighed on her mind. She was ready to take a few days away, to recharge over the weekend at least. She tried to put it all to the back of her mind, tried to force a smile onto her face.

“Guess what’s waiting for us when we get home?” she said cheerily.

“Hm… a very grouchy orange cat who’s sick of the neighbor feeding him, perhaps?”

“Aside from that…”

“No clue.”

“A very special book,” she said with a smile. “A little book called A Fall From Grace.”

“Wow,” Brock said with a laugh. “I had no idea you ordered a copy.”

“I had to. I just couldn’t resist. I wanted to show my support for the girls in some way.”

“Well, I’m no reader, but I might just get myself a copy too. And quickly, just in case it gets taken down…”

“I hope it doesn’t. I think they’re so clever, preparing all of this in advance. I’m still in awe of how they pulled all this off.”

Brock smiled. “Me too. But I guess we should probably keep that on the down-low until there’s a verdict.”

“Probably,” Olivia said with a smile. It wasn’t often that a case ended with her supporting the perpetrator, but then again, Matilda and Sister Gail had never really been the villains, had they? They were victims in disguise, and they’d flipped the whole thing on its head. Olivia was simply glad that she had put some faith in their methods, followed their clues, and was led to the truth. It also reminded her to always keep an open mind. They had proven that there were always people out there with new ideas, new ways to break the mold and to surprise her. She thought she had seen it all until this case came along. Now, she knew there was a whole world still out there, waiting to show her exactly why her job was the most interesting one in the world.

But life insisted on continuing to surprise her. When she got back to their brand-new house, smiling a little as she stepped over the threshold, she received a call. Her shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, Brock aside. She was hoping to get a moment’s peace. But when she saw that it was Hugh calling, she knew she had to answer. She cleared her throat and picked up the call.

“Hey, Hugh.”

“Olivia… For once I’m pretty much at a loss for words except for, congrats on the case. What a turn of events, huh?”

“Yeah… it’s been crazy. We just walked through the door,” Olivia said, hoping he would get the hint to make this conversation quick.

“Ahh… well, welcome home. I won’t keep you long, but I thought you’d want to know about a development in the case of Victor Wright. I know you’re still looking into this supposed secret society that had him killed when you have the time.”

“Yeah… we kind of hit a dead end with it,” Olivia admitted. “We lost access to the website that the group was using, and we haven’t found any related cases in some time.”

“Well, I do have a small snippet to give you. Unfortunately, the man you jailed at the end of the case, the contract killer…”

“Max Marsh?”

“Yes, Max, a.k.a. swift_clean… well, he was found dead in his cell yesterday. He was murdered. Someone managed to put a shiv through his neck and he bled out silently. They didn’t find him until the following day.”

Olivia lowered herself onto her sofa, processing what she’d been told. She wasn’t sad about it. Max Marsh was a horrific person, a brutal, violent killer, and certainly not someone she wanted to mourn. But the news came at a cost beyond his life. That was their only connection to the wider circle of killers he was a part of. That lost connection meant that finding and destroying their underground secret society was going to be near impossible.

“That’s…not good news.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“You’re right, it isn’t. It complicates the case a lot more.”

“Well, realistically he was never going to talk. We knew that,” Hugh reminded her. “Don’t let this get you down. I just felt like you should know.”

Olivia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, definitely. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Try and switch off that on button for a bit, okay? Maybe you should consider using up some of that vacation time,” Hugh said, his voice a little too light-hearted for the subject of conversation. “And maybe use your weekend to chill out!”

“I will,” Olivia said dryly. “Thanks, Hugh.”

“Talk later.”

She ended the call, feeling a little heavier than before. She got up off the sofa and went to find Brock. He was in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for something to eat.

“I swear we had some cookies in here before we left,” he said. Mango was on the countertop, purring and nudging himself against Brock’s torso lovingly. “Not cat treats, silly fluffball. I literally just fed you. Human cookies are for a hungry human, not a greedy cat.” He paused when he saw that Olivia wasn’t responding to him, looking over at her with a frown. “Did you eat them?”

“Brock… that was Hugh.”

Brock folded his arms. “Oh yeah? What did he want?”

“He said…he said that Max Marsh was killed in his cell.”

Brock blinked. “As in the contract killer from that crazy Uber-for-killers website?”

“The very same.”

Brock let out a puff of air. “Hell… that’s not good. That means that someone must have had him killed. Whatever secret society was behind this has caught up to him.”

“We have to assume so,” Olivia said. “Which means that nowhere is safe, really. It looks like they’ve got their claws in everywhere. And we’ve lost our only lead.”

Brock looked at Olivia’s downtrodden expression with sadness. Then, his smile lifted.

“I think I know what you need. To take your mind off things.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“A beer.”

At the local bar, Brock and Olivia slid into their seats each with an ice cold beer in hand. They clinked their bottles together.

“To another case closed,” Brock said. Olivia smiled weakly.

“Yeah. I guess it doesn’t really feel like a time to celebrate right now.”

Brock took her hand.

“I know it sucks that we lost another lead on this secret society case. And I know everything about John’s case must have worn you out. It’s been an unusual one. And if you don’t feel like celebrating, that’s okay. We can just enjoy a cold beer.”

“I can manage that,” Olivia said with a smile. “Thanks for understanding. I know I’m bringing the mood down. I think lately it’s just felt a bit like even wins come with losses, you know? There’s always a victim. And sometimes it’s harder to see the impact on the lives of the survivors.”

“I totally understand that sentiment. I’m sure Gail and Matilda have complicated feelings about it all too,” Brock said, sipping his beer. “We can keep an eye on their case, see how it pans out. But that’s a matter for another day. Tonight is for us.”

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed, sipping her beer. She let out a sigh of pleasure, her mood already lifting slightly. “Oh yeah, I needed this one.”

“Have you ever considered that you might just need a vacation?” Brock said with a smile. Olivia chuckled.

“Hugh literally just said the same.”

“Maybe you should listen to him.”

Olivia smiled. “I mean, the answer to that question used to be no. I used to hate taking time away from work. But you know what? I could be persuaded right now. I think we’ve earned it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that trip to Vegas that we discussed. What if we went for it? Had a crazy week there, gambled a little, caught a few shows, did some shopping? Maybe even a pool party…”

“Brock, do you know me at all? Can you imagine me at a pool party?”

Brock grinned. “Okay, no pool parties. But the rest I think could be fun. We can go to the Grand Canyon too! I think it’s just what we need after the stress of the last few months and before we dive into house stuff. What do you think?”

Olivia cocked her head to the side with a smile. “I think it’s time to book a vacation.”

Brock grinned back, raising his beer. “Can we cheers to that?”

“Oh, I should imagine so.”

They clinked their bottles together.

“Vegas, baby!” Brock cried. Olivia sank down into her seat, hoping no one was paying attention to him. Thirty-five going on eighteen, she thought.

“Get it out of your system now, Brock. I don’t want to hear you say that again after today.”

Brock grinned even wider.

“Vegas, baby!”

Thank you so much for joining us for DEADLY SINS! Spending so much time with the seven deadly sins while writing this case made us reflect on the ones we might be guilty of committing ourselves. Is it Pride when a reveal hits exactly as planned? Or maybe Greed when we rush to our desks early in the morning because we have to write just one more scene before breakfast? Honestly, it might be Wrath when a character takes on a life of their own and completely throws our investigation into chaos!

Hearing how readers react to each of Olivia and Brock’s cases never gets old. If you have a minute to spare, leaving a brief rating or review online genuinely helps these books find new readers and keeps Olivia and Brock’s adventures coming. You can also keep the conversation going inside Elle’s Facebook group, the MYSTERY LOVERS CLUB, where some of our favorite reader discussions happen!

In our next book, HIGH STAKES, Olivia and Brock head to Las Vegas for a well-deserved vacation with strict rules against picking up new cases. Those plans fall apart fast when a stranger mutters a bizarre phrase before turning up dead hours later: Elvis is still in the building. Forced into an undercover operation among old-school mobsters and rival impersonators, they quickly learn that Sin City is going to demand a lot more than casino chips.

Thank you for spending this case with us. We will see you at the tables in Vegas!

By the way, if you find any typos, have suggestions, or just simply want to reach out to us, feel free to email us at egray@ellegraybooks.com

Your writer friends,

Elle Gray & K.S. Gray

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Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thrillers

Book One - The 7 She Saw

Book Two - A Perfect Wife

Book Three - Her Perfect Crime

Book Four - The Chosen Girls

Book Five - The Secret She Kept

Book Six - The Lost Girls

Book Seven - The Lost Sister

Book Eight - The Missing Woman

Book Nine - Night at the Asylum

Book Ten - A Time to Die

Book Eleven - The House on the Hill

Book Twelve - The Missing Girls

Book Thirteen - No More Lies

Book Fourteen- The Unlucky Girl

Book Fifteen - The Heist

Book Sixteen - The Hit List

Book Seventeen - The Missing Daughter

Book Eighteen - The Silent Threat

Book Nineteen - A Code to Kill

Book Twenty - Watching Her

Book Twenty-One - The Inmate’s Secret

Book Twenty-Two - A Motive to Kill

Book Twenty-Three - The Kept Girls

Book Twenty-Four - Prison Break

Book Twenty-Five - The Perfect Crime

Book Twenty-Six - A Shot to Kill

Book Twenty-Seven - Double Cross

Book Twenty-Eight - The Silent Hunt

Book Twenty-Nine - The Hunter’s Game

Book Thirty - No Ransom

Book Thirty-One - True Crime

Book Thirty-Two - The Silent Killer

Book Thirty-Three - The Forgotten Girls

Book Thirty-Four - The Kill List

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Book Two - Her Last Call

Book Three - Woman In The Water

Book Four - A Wife’s Secret

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Book Two - The Murder in the Mist

Book Three - Whispers of the Dead

Book Four - Secrets of the Unseen

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Book One - New Girl in the Falls

Book Two - Missing in the Falls

Book Three - The Girls in the Falls

Book Four - Memories of the Falls

Book Five - Shadows of the Falls

Book Six - The Lies in the Falls

Book Seven - Forbidden in the Falls

Book Eight - Silenced in the Falls

Book Nine - Summer in the Falls

Book Ten - The Legend of the Falls

Book Eleven - Whispers in the Falls

Book Twelve - Sins of the Falls

Book Thirteen - Shades of the Falls

Book Fourteen - Revenge in the Falls

Book Fifteen - Vanished in the Falls

Book Sixteen - Trouble in the Falls

Book Seventeen - Tears of the Falls

Book Eighteen - Trails in the Falls

Book Nineteen - Ashes in the Falls

Book Twenty - Buried in the Falls

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Book Three - The Secrets We Bury

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Book Two - Scars in the Valley

Book Three - Last Seen in the Valley

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Book Seven - Exposed in the Valley

Book Eight - Whispers in the Valley

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Book Two - The City Girls

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Book Four - Sins in the City

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Book Two - The Murders on Beacon Hill

Book Three - The Woman Behind the Door

Book Four - Love, Lies, and Suicide

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Book Eighteen - The Fatal Getaway

Book Nineteen - Her Last Story

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