Page 122 of Saving Grace

I snap my gaze to the asphalt. Reed guns it, the roar of the V8 rattling my bones.

“We’ll find her, Mack.”

His words are soft, though. He’s worried.

I’m devastated.

The minutes drip by like molasses in winter. Fuckin’ torturously slow. Reed pushes the truck as fast as he can. The old, busted Volvo isn’t going to push more than seventy milesper hour. Hell, by my math, we should catch up with them sooner rather than later. Still, it’s as if time stands still.

Fuck you, time.

The F250 shifts gears automatically as we ascend a hill.

“Come on, baby,” Reed mutters. His hand taps the wheel. He’s as strung out over this as I am. There has never been a day when Reed hasn’t made my life better. Peas in a pod and all that. I stare at the man behind the wheel. Such a big fuckin’ heart. Behind the charisma and tongue-in-cheek, he’s all soul.

I train my focus on the highway, grabbing the handle above my head as we nosedive over the first rise. A long descent stretches out before us, and I brace my other hand on the seat. My muscles are painfully tight. I grind my molars, letting only the slightest of relaxation pull at me. We dip out at the base and roar along the flat stretch of road heading toward the township of Moore.

Something catches my attention on the horizon. A flash of blue.

“Reed!” I point to the oscillating lights.

He cranes his neck, squinting as if it will help him see better across the vast distance between us and the tiny, flashing speck of blue. Without a word, he sends the truck faster.

Please let it be Grace.

Please let her be okay.

Maybe someone called it in after seeing them at the gas station? Why Morley didn’t, I’ll never know. Then again, I never thought to ask if he did. The state trooper vehicle comes into focus, and I shift on the seat, leaning forward to get a better look. I flick Harry a text, hoping like hell this is the white Volvo. Praying even harder she is in one piece. If that motherfucker so much as laid a hand on her...

Morley never mentioned them doing so. But I imagine if she was putting up a fight, Joel would have manhandled her. Twotroopers get out of the car, hands stretched out in front of them. They have their weapons out.

Jesus Christ.

The Volvo is pulled over on an angle. Like they stopped in a hurry.

Dammit.

If he has so much as?—

“I don’t see her.” Reed flies along the highway closing in on the scene. I fling Harry a drop-pin to our location and toss my phone to the dash. Both men step out of the car, hands over their heads.

Still no Grace.

They turn and lean on the car as one officer holds his weapon to them and the other cuffs them both.

The officer closest moves to the trunk.

We are merely yards away.

The trunk pops, and the trooper bends down.

I hold my breath, heart thundering lightning through my veins. A visceral rage sends my body shaking when Grace climbs out of the trunk.

Hands bound.

Mouth covered in duct tape.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Reed breathes, pulling the truck to a screeching halt. I’m out the door before the vehicle rolls to a stop. Grace is nodding at the trooper. He cuts her binds, and she tugs the tape from her mouth.

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