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scratches. It’s clean inside. Maybe too clean.”
    â€œIn what way?”
    â€œNot so much as a gum wrapper, leaf or spot of dirt on the floor. Nothing personal. Not even in the console.”
    â€œHer purse wasn’t there? What about the trunk?”
    â€œNo purse. And other than a spare tire and jack, the trunk is clean.”
    â€œHow about writing implements? Any pens or pencils?”
    â€œNope. Nothing.”
    Which was the first real indication to Clay—who, during his fifteen years in the business, had seen just about everything—that Ms. Chapman’s disappearance involved foul play.
    â€œNo blood anywhere?”
    â€œNot that we could see. You want us to take the car in? Have it gone over?”
    Ordinarily, he’d insist it wait until he got there. Sometimes the turn of the wheel was a clue.
    But he was five hours away. Five hours that could make the difference between life and death.
    â€œPlease. But make sure you take pictures first. Inside and out. A lot of them. Too many of them.”
    â€œYes, sir,” the trooper replied.
    And Clay rang off, already on his way to get dressed. If he left now, he could be in Knoxville in time to catch a couple hours’ sleep before sunup.

4
    Day
December 2010
    I have to keep track of time. That thought reverberated. Over and over. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I couldn’t remember why, but I knew I didn’t. I didn’t want to move, either.
    Something hard was digging into my rib. I tried to adjust my position enough to relieve the pressure and came in full contact with the rocky cement bed upon which I lay.
    And then I remembered. I was in captivity.
    Slowly, so if someone was staring at me they wouldn’t notice, I opened one eye slightly.
    And saw a sliver of light coming in from outside.
    I’d passed at least one night here.
    That realization changed everything. I didn’t have to endure for just a few hours. The police, my friends—they would’ve known I was gone a long time ago and hadn’t been able to find me.
    Carefully, through my lashes, I took in my surroundings, such as they were. As soon as I was able to deter mine that there was no one directly in view, I opened my eyes fully.
    The light wasn’t much. A beacon in the distance? Light at the end of the tunnel?
    Was I in the same place I’d been in the last time I was awake? And the time before that?
    I had no idea.
    It didn’t smell like the bike path, though. There was a sweet odor, easily distinguishable even in the cold. And it was cold.
    My head still hurt, the pain sharp, but my thoughts seemed clearer. I wasn’t as tired.
    Had I been drugged? Hit on the head? Both?
    Was that why I couldn’t stay awake?
    I didn’t know if I’d been out for hours or days. It must have been at least eighteen hours, I figured, based on the fact that I’d gone skating on Friday morning and now it was a different day.
    Okay, so I had to keep track of time. Keep my mind working.
    And I had to move. I was cold. But not as cold as I’d been the day before. Thank God I’d worn my hat under my helmet to go skating. Hats helped stave off hypothermia.
    But where was my helmet?
    Although the pain was excruciating at first, I moved my feet. They were heavy and for a second I panicked, my heart thudding heavily. And then I remembered that I still had my skates on. They’d helped keep me warm, too.
    And I was in some kind of enclosure. A natural one, from what I could tell. A cave, maybe. There were some pretty famous caves about thirteen miles from town. And I remember, when we toured them as kids, they’d told us that the temperature always stayed around fifty-five degrees. No matter what time of year it was. I hoped I was in a cave. I’d be protected from the worst of December’s cold.
    December. I knew the month.
    And I knew one day had passed. So…this was Day Two.
    That recognition felt good.