The richest man in the state offered me half a billion dollars to find his missing eight-year-old son, and I knew the moment I touched the boy’s photograph that accepting the money would get us all killed.
Chapter 1
Victor Sterling stood in the middle of our search center in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my car. Two bodyguards waited behind him, expressionless beneath the fluorescent lights, while everyone on my team stared at the photograph trembling between his fingers. The little boy in it had round cheeks, dark hair, and two deep dimples that made him look as if smiling came naturally.
“My son Leo disappeared yesterday,” Sterling said. “The kidnappers want one hundred million dollars.”
Our operations director, Megan Hayes, covered her mouth.
Sterling looked directly at me.
“I won’t pay criminals. You tell me where my son is, and I’ll send my own people to recover him.”
He paused.
“In return, I’ll give you five hundred million dollars.”
The room went silent.
I had spent ten years working missing-person cases. Whatever my strange ability was, I never had a proper name for it. Psychic, medium, sensitive—people used whatever word made them comfortable. If I touched an object connected strongly enough to a missing person, sometimes I felt a direction. Sometimes I saw pieces of places. Sometimes I heard a voice that wasn’t really a voice.
It had helped bring hundreds of children home.
Megan grabbed my arm.
“Chloe, say yes.”
Derek Miller, our fundraising director, looked close to fainting.
“Five hundred million,” he whispered. “Do you understand what that could do? New vehicles. Drones. Thermal cameras. A real command center.”
They weren’t wrong.
For years we’d begged for grants and held charity dinners to replace failing equipment. Half a billion dollars could keep search teams in the field for generations.
I reached for Leo’s photograph.
The second my fingertips touched it, every sound in the office vanished.
Not faded.
Vanished.
Cold flooded my bones.
Then came the image.
A dark room.
A child in dinosaur pajamas.
A man standing over him.
Leo looking upward, confused rather than terrified, because children believe the people who love them cannot possibly hurt them.
Then the boy whispered something.
Daddy?
I tore my hand away.
The office crashed back around me.
Sterling frowned.
“Well?”
I could barely swallow.
“I can’t take this case.”
Derek barked out a laugh.
“What?”
“I said no.”
Megan tightened her grip on my wrist.
“Chloe, maybe you’re tired. Sit down.”
“I don’t need to sit down.”
Sterling’s expression hardened.
“Is five hundred million not enough?”
“It has nothing to do with money.”
“I’ll make it six.”
Derek actually cursed under his breath.
Six hundred million dollars.
Sterling took a step closer.
“Bring my son back.”
I stared at the photograph.
“I can’t.”
The billionaire’s grief disappeared so quickly that I almost wondered if I’d imagined it.
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“This case is wrong.”
Megan’s fingernails pressed into my skin.
“Wrong how?”
I pulled free.
“No one here should touch it.”
Derek scoffed.
“There she goes again.”
I faced my coworkers.
“If any of you take this case, you take it without me.”
Sterling slammed his palm against our conference table.
“You’re going to tell me where my son is.”
I met his eyes.
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“People don’t say no to me, Ms. Vance.”
“They should more often.”
For one instant, his face became something else. Not a grieving father’s face. Something flat, cold, calculating.
Then it vanished.
He slipped Leo’s photograph into his jacket.
“You will regret this.”
He left with his bodyguards.
Megan waited until the glass doors closed.
Then she turned on me.
“You’re fired.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“You understand what you’ve done?” she demanded. “You just cost this organization more money than we could raise in a hundred years.”
“Then maybe that’s what the organization was worth.”
Derek pointed toward the door.
“Get out.”
I packed my desk into a cardboard box.
By the time I reached the sidewalk, my phone was exploding with calls.
At first I thought Victor Sterling had contacted reporters.
Then I saw the headlines.
FAMED PSYCHIC REFUSES TO HELP MISSING CHILD.
SEARCH ORGANIZATION FIRES CHLOE VANCE.
BILLIONAIRE FATHER BEGS FOR SON’S RETURN.
Sterling had already posted a video.
His eyes were red. His voice shook beautifully.
“I begged Ms. Vance to help me find my boy,” he told the camera. “I offered everything I have. She demanded more and then turned her back.”
It was a lie.
People believed it instantly.
Threats filled my voicemail. My address appeared online. Strangers promised to find me and teach me what happened to women who let children die.
I couldn’t go home.
I rented a shabby motel room outside the city and kept the curtains closed.
The following afternoon, someone kicked open my door.
Derek entered first, holding a phone.
He was livestreaming.
“Found her!”
Megan followed with three men I didn’t recognize.
The comments raced across Derek’s screen.
Monster.
Make her talk.
Save the boy.
Megan folded her arms.
“Victor is giving you another chance.”
“No.”
“Five hundred million is still on the table.”
“I said no.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Derek shoved the camera toward me.
The livestream switched to a video call.
Victor Sterling sat in the rear seat of a luxury car.
His wife, Eleanor, suddenly pushed into view beside him. Her hair was tangled and mascara streaked her cheeks.
She dropped to her knees.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please, Ms. Vance. He’s my baby.”
That nearly broke me.
Whatever Victor was, Eleanor’s grief was real.
But the image from Leo’s photograph flashed through my mind.
Daddy?
I forced myself to stay still.
“I can’t tell you where he is.”
Eleanor collapsed.
Victor’s face darkened.
“You’ve made your choice.”
My phone rang.
Dad.
Derek swung his livestream toward it.
I answered.
My sister Lily was screaming.
“Chloe, there are people outside! They broke the windows. Dad collapsed. An ambulance can’t even get through.”
Then my father came on, breathless and furious.
“What have you done?”
“Dad—”
“They’re saying you left a child to die over money.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then fix it!”
My eyes burned.
“I can’t explain yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I tell the wrong person what I know, you and Lily may not live through the night.”
Silence.
Then my father said the words I would hear for years afterward.
“You’re not my daughter anymore.”
The call ended.
Derek laughed.
Even Megan smiled.
Victor lit a cigar on the screen.
“My patience is gone,” he said. “If you won’t accept my money, I’ll use it differently. Half a billion dollars buys a lot of loyalty, Ms. Vance. Imagine what it could buy from people interested in your family.”
Twenty million people were watching the livestream.
And Victor Sterling, convinced he had finally frightened me into surrender, had just made the mistake I needed.
“Fine,” I said.
Everyone went quiet.
“I’ll talk.”
Victor smiled.
“But only to State Police Commissioner Richard Brooks.”
His smile disappeared.
