I got a call from Harborview Medical Center at 11:38 on a Tuesday night saying an eleven-year-old boy named Noah had been in a car crash, and my full name, cell number, and home address were written in permanent Sharpie across the inside lining of his jacket as his only emergency contact.

Time stopped.

Noah’s grip on my shirt turned vice-tight. He pressed his face harder into my shoulder, trying to disappear. I stood up slowly, putting my entire body between him and the men in the doorway. My hands were shaking, but my voice came out steady—surprisingly so, considering I could feel my heartbeat in my molars.

“Who are you, and how did you get past the police officer outside?”

Voss stepped into the room. His shoes made no sound on the linoleum. “Detective… Alvarez, was it? He was called away on an urgent matter. Something about his daughter being in a car accident over in Beaverton. Terrible thing. I do hope she’s all right.”

His tone said he hoped nothing of the sort.

“Now,” he said, stopping three feet away. He was tall—easily six two—and he used it, looming over me like a skyscraper over a sidewalk. “I believe I asked you a question. Who are you?”

“Emily Warren. Noah’s emergency contact.”

“Is that all?” His eyes flicked to the letter on the floor, then back to me. They were cold, calculating. Reading me. “How interesting. Megan Cole never mentioned an Emily Warren in any of our… conversations.”

“Conversations?” My voice sharpened. “So you admit you’ve been talking to her. You admit you’ve been stalking her and her son.”

“Stalking is such an ugly word. I prefer ‘exercising my parental rights.’ You see, Ms. Warren, Noah is my biological son. Megan Cole abducted him from his foster family when he was an infant. She’s been on the run with him ever since. I’ve spent eleven years and a small fortune trying to find my boy. And now that I have… I don’t intend to let him go again.”

He held up a thick manila folder.

“Court order. Custody granted to me yesterday afternoon by Judge Hargrove. The same judge who happens to sit on the board of my children’s hospital. Fancy that. Megan was served at the scene of the accident—well, a process server was waiting for her at the hospital, but she never made it. So now I’m here to collect my son.”

He held out his hand to Noah. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go home. I’ve got a room all ready for you at the house. Bigger than your whole apartment, I bet. Toys. Video games. A dog. Whatever you want.”

Noah didn’t move. He didn’t even look at him.

“I want to stay with Emily,” he said. His voice was muffled by my shirt, but clear enough.

Voss’s smile thinned. “I’m afraid that’s not how this works, son. The judge says you come with me. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. The hard way involves hospital security and a lot of shouting and people staring at you. I don’t think you want that.”

He signaled to the two men behind him. They stepped forward.

I backed up until my legs hit the bed. “Don’t you touch him. That court order is worthless. You bought that judge. Everyone knows it. And Noah is not going anywhere with you.”

Voss sighed, like I was a particularly slow child. “Ms. Warren, I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with. I own this hospital. Half the doctors in this city send their kids to the private school my foundation built. The mayor eats dinner at my house once a quarter. If I say the sky is green, three different news stations run a special on climate change affecting atmospheric color. If I say you kidnapped that boy and are holding him against his will? You will be in a holding cell before the sun comes up, and you will never see him again. Not for visitation. Not for holidays. Never.”

He leaned in. The scent of expensive whiskey and cedar hit me, and for a second I was twenty-one again, drunk, scared, in a hotel room that smelled exactly like this.

“So,” he said softly. “Are we going to be reasonable?”

I looked at his face. At the cold, dead eyes behind the handsome mask. At the absolute certainty that he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it. And I made a decision.

I smiled.

“Of course we’re reasonable,” I said. I turned to Noah. “Baby, go with the nice men. I’ll meet you at Mr. Voss’s house later, okay? I just need to get your things from the apartment first.”

Noah pulled back, his eyes wide with betrayal. “Emily? No—”

“It’s okay,” I said, squeezing his hand once, hard. Three quick squeezes. A code Megan and I had made up in college. I love you. Trust me. “I promise I’ll be there. Go on.”

He hesitated, searching my face. Whatever he saw there made him nod slowly. He slid off the bed, his casted arm held awkwardly in front of him. He didn’t look at Voss. He didn’t look at the bodyguards. He only looked at me.

Voss beamed. “Excellent. Smart girl. I knew you’d see reason.” He clapped a hand on Noah’s shoulder. The boy flinched. “Come along, Noah. Let’s get you home.”

They left.

The second the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the floor. My legs wouldn’t hold me anymore. I gasped for air, my chest heaving, the letter crumpled in my fist. I’d just handed my son over to the man who had destroyed both our lives. I’d just let the monster walk out with the only thing that mattered.

But I had a plan.

Sort of.

I grabbed my phone and called Detective Alvarez. It went straight to voicemail. “Alvarez, it’s Emily Warren. Richard Voss just walked into Noah’s room with a fake court order and took him. He said something happened to your daughter. I think it was a distraction. Call me the second you get this.”

I hung up.

Next, I dug through Noah’s backpack until I found the black puffer jacket the nurse had given me when I arrived. I turned it inside out. There, written in thick black Sharpie across the lining, was my name, my phone number, my address. And under that, barely visible, a seam that didn’t match the rest of the jacket. I ripped it open with my keys.

Inside was a tiny USB drive, no bigger than my thumbnail.

Megan’s insurance policy.

I stuffed it into my bra—if Voss’s men had searched me on the way out, they wouldn’t have looked there. Then I grabbed the letter, folded it small, and put it in my pocket. I was reaching for my bag when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I answered.

“Emily?”

The voice was rough, breathless, like the person on the other end was running. I knew it instantly. I’d know it if I was deaf, if I was a hundred years old, if I’d lost every other memory I had.

“Megan?”

“Thank God,” she sobbed. “I thought I was too late. Did he take him? Did Voss take Noah?”

“Yes. Five minutes ago. Megan—where are you? Are you hurt? Everyone thinks you’re dead or kidnapped.”

“I’m fine. I got thrown from the car in the crash. I landed in the bushes on the side of the highway. When I woke up, I saw Voss’s men pulling up. I knew if they found me, they’d kill me for sure, and then Noah would have nobody. So I ran. I’ve been hiding in the trees along the freeway, watching, waiting for a chance to get to the hospital. Emily… I saw him drive away with Noah in the Suburban. I followed them as far as the bridge, but I lost them in traffic.”

She was crying now, hard. “I failed him. I promised I’d keep him safe, and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. We’re gonna get him back. Megan, I read the letter. All of it. I know everything.”

A long pause.

“You hate me,” she said quietly.

“I don’t have time to hate you right now. Maybe later. But right now, our son is in that house with a psychopath, and we are the only two people on the planet who can get him out. So where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m at the 7-Eleven on 181st. I stole a hoodie from a gas station trash can. I look like a homeless person. Emily… Voss’s house in Lake Oswego is a fortress. Gates. Cameras. Guards. Dogs. We can’t just walk up and knock on the door.”

“I know. But we have something he doesn’t.”

“What?”