To Jeff
To me, the hardest part of writing a book is the acknowledgments. There are so many people that assist and inspire a book throughout each step of the process that I fear I will forget them when the time comes to write this.
It’s a good thing I kept a list this time around (took me only seven books to think of that).
I’ve never written a contemporary thriller before so the task was quite daunting. I want to thank K.R. Conway (The Undertow Series) for her enlightening theory of writing and how the “threads” really came together after thinking of the book in a new way. Lisa Hall, for helping out with a certain role in the novel. K. Meyers for forever changing the way I write my drafts and for your daily encouragement in the process.
A big shout-out to the SCAG for being there daily for me during the happy and frustrating moments, and every emotion in between. I don’t know how I would have gotten this far without you all!
I want to thank my fabulous critique group for being encouraging and helpful with every single one of my books and I’m so grateful for each and every one of you.
A special thanks to family: Aunty for helping me out with authenticity. Mom for stepping into your new role of critique partner. Your feedback and love for this book has inspired me more than you will ever know. And to my darling husband, who still hasn’t read any of my books yet actively listens to my crazy theories for my characters.
To all of those at HQ Digital who helped shape this book into something I’m proud to show the world, thank you for your time and talent!
And lastly, Victoria, my lovely editor. We’ve been through so much together and I am eternally grateful for your taking me on as a new author all those years ago, and here we are, seven books later! How time flies! I hope we can meet in person in the near future!
“For the last time, tell me what family she was assigned to and I will untie you.”
The portly, balding man in the chair had nearly sweated through his shirt. My request had been simple enough. Yes, the adoption had been closed. The caseworker wanted to protect the girl from knowing about her past and the lowlifes who’d created her. Calling them parents would have been too kind. But that was fourteen years ago and it was about time I found her.
“I’m being reasonable here,” I said, lifting the knife from inside my jacket. It had the sheath on, but the threat achieved the desired effect.
He mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“All of the files from that year were scanned into our server.” He indicated the computer on the desk next to him.
“I assume it is password-protected?”
“Yes.”
I placed the knife on the desk, but his eyes never left my face. “Benjamin, was it? Make this easier on yourself and give me the information I need and I will leave you unharmed.” My patience was waning, and I didn’t want to be in the presence of his rank body odor for an extended period.
He rattled off his username and password, and I entered them into the prompts. I searched the database for her birth name. There were two girls with that name, but only one of them was born in Tennessee. There was little information about the girl. The fire that killed the mother would have destroyed any important documents, but I knew they didn’t hold onto anything of importance regardless.
“There’s a reason these cases are closed,” Benjamin said. “They are to protect the child.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “That is your job, isn’t it? To protect
