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been caged, her wings clipped. Exuberance at the idea that once again, she was a part of the team; that her involvement meant something and she could indeed make a contribution. Wasn’t that the reason she was here after all?
    “It’s me.” Her voice couldn’t conceal her feelings. “Did you get the email?”
    “I got it. Great work, Kate. We’ll contact Fredrick County,” Nick replied.
    “What can I do from here?”
    “Sit tight. We’ll be back later and we can go over what we have. With this potential second abduction, Campbell might be more willing to put this on the front burner.”
    Kate could hear Dwight in the background calling for Nick.
    “I need to go. See you later.”
    On the one hand, Kate was deflated not to have another piece of the puzzle to work on, but on the other, if Campbell decided to prioritize this case for BAU, then they’d want the entire team on board. And that included her.
    “What’d he say?” Vasquez peered over top of the partition.
    “They’re due back later. He thinks Campbell will make it a BAU priority. But there’s not much more we can do at this point. Thanks for helping me out on this.”
    “Any time.”
     
    » » »
     
     
    Colton leaned toward the sliver of an opening between the wooden slats of the closet doors. He peered into the squalid hotel room. The man had bound his hands behind his back upon entering the cramped, dark closet that was filled with the acrid, ammonia-like smell of mothballs. He tried to garner the attention of the front desk attendant as they checked in, but to no avail. The attendant couldn’t have cared less about either the man, who undoubtedly appeared suspicious, or the boy wearing a hoodie and looking forlorn.
    His chances of escaping were becoming fewer and farther between and Colton fought off the sense that he would not get another chance and would die; maybe inside this closet. His parents would never find him and they would never know that they were in his thoughts every second until the last.
    The man—who had a name, but Colton refused to think it, let alone speak it—sat on the edge of the bed. The old television, the likes Colton had never seen before, showed fuzzy images of a news broadcast. Maybe his picture would appear. He didn’t know where or even when he was; only that days had passed. The man bore a resemblance to someone Colton had seen on television once, long ago. Although the actor was older than his abductor, he recalled the show because his parents watched it and he noticed it in passing because he wasn’t allowed to watch it. The Sopranos. That’s right. He remembered it now. This man looked like a younger, shorter version of the actor from the Sopranos, but hefty and slightly balding just the same. An old school mobster, Colton thought.
    He had a very good memory; eidetic, some people called it. His parents said it was because of his Autism, although Colton didn’t understand what that meant exactly. He did well in school and had friends. He didn’t feel any different from other kids. But his parents said he was on the spectrum, whatever that meant.
    Colton shifted his weight and his shoe caught on the tracks of the closet door. The man must’ve heard him because he whipped his head sideways to look in his direction. Colton gasped and stepped back, stumbling on his own feet and falling against the back wall, but he managed to steady himself. He remained still, waiting for the man to open the door and grab him.
    After a few moments, Colton realized he wasn’t coming and exhaled. He tried hard not to upset the man. Though he hadn’t struck him in the face, he had put bruises on his arms from squeezing them. There were many reasons Colton didn’t want to face his wrath, and frankly, the bruises on his arm were nothing compared the rest of it.

 
    FIVE
     
     
     
    T he street was clearing and Nick glanced both ways before walking toward the driver’s side of his SUV. “I know this is tough to hear,