Page 154 of Strays
Shane leans forward. “That’s the car that was outside our house yesterday.”
We watch it pull away. It moves, turns down a side access road and disappears.
I can’t breathe; the ache in my chest is too much to bear. My lungs burn as I take a deep breath, forcing the air in.
Thirty minutes later, we have the full picture. The woman’s a nobody. She entered as a general observer and sat in the gallery throughout the trial. She presented an ID at the checkpoint, but it wasn’t scanned, just checked as protocol. No data recorded.
The man entered as a contractor. HVAC repair. The courthouse had routine maintenance scheduled for next week, but yesterday someone called to “reschedule” it for today. Nothing triggered suspicion. The uniform matched, and the ID looked real, but it was a setup. Someone inside helped them. Had to. But digging out that accomplice and making them talk will take time we don’t have.
The Solomon pack flags Jo’s abduction to MAB, and Commander Eneas calls me directly.
“This was their contingency,” he says. “Whoever’s protecting that doctor expected that your conviction would’ve ended the investigation. Since that didn’t work, they took your nyra to freeze you and keep you quiet long enough for them to clean the house.”
He assures me his pack will do everything in their power to help us find her.
We stay in a conference room, waiting for the Zervas pack to return to the courthouse. They’d gone to the location where the car was last picked up on traffic cameras. The room is quiet now, the three of us, plus Jayme, Alice, and Sonia. Everyone else is scattered, pulled into motion.
Jo’s uncles are in one of the interview rooms with courthouse staff, questioning everyone who was in the building when she disappeared. Fontes is with the local PD, pushing for full cooperation and street-level resources. The garrison packs are already tracking leads, scanning DMV footage, cross-referencing maintenance firm records, trying to scrape together anything before the trail goes completely cold.
When the Zervas pack enters the room, I already know they have bad news.
“We tracked the car to an industrial zone. They abandoned it in a blind spot,”Theo Zervas says. “Probably switched vehicles. No cameras. They’re ghosts.”
The truth lands hard.
We have nothing. No trail. No names. No images to match. Jo’s gone, and we’re staring into the same void my mother vanished into.
I look at my brothers, and I don’t have to say a word. We’re already moving, same thought, same rage.
I yank off the suit jacket and rip the tie loose as I walk, Shane doing the same beside me, shoulders rolling. Jay shrugs out of his jacket in two sharp movements and tosses it on a chair without a glance.
We head for the doors.
“Wait,” Jayme calls out behind us. “Where are you going?”
Shane doesn’t even turn around. “To take her back.”
I hear the rush of footsteps as Jayme catches up. “Wait! Let’s think this through! If they feel threatened, they might hurt her. Just wait; let them make contact. See what they want.”
He doesn’t understand that they’ll hurt her anyway. They’re counting on us to freeze and follow the rules. To wait politely for warrants and approval and jurisdiction.
We won’t.
They miscalculated. Whatever leash we had around our necks, that leash was Jo. We played by the rules to have the chance to meet her. To bond with her. Then we played by the rules again to protect her. To give her a good life. To stay home with her instead of in a prison cell.
But without her, there’s no leash. Nothing to lose and no reason to hold back.
I stop and turn to face Jayme. “They’ll never give her back. Our only chance is to take her ourselves.”
There’s dread in his eyes. I can see the gears turning, looking for something that might slow us down. But nothing anyone says can reach us now.
Andreas Zervas steps forward and locks eyes with me. “We’ll do what we can from here,” he says. “If anything comes up that can help, we’ll call.”
I nod once, then we’re gone. Out of the courthouse and into the Bronco.
“Make it under two hours, Kory,” Shane says, his voice cold and clipped.
We cross into New Jersey in just over an hour and a half. Straight to Saddle River — Aranya’s house address. I don’t know if he’s home, but I don’t care. Someone will be. And whoever it is, they’ll tell me what I need to know, one way or another.
