"So?" I waited for the punch line. "What does that have to do with us?"

"This." Griffin held up a grainy image queued up on a prepaid cell that Jett had a.s.sured us was safe enough to activate. "Someone posted this on their FotoStream account."

I leaned closer. The image wasn't just grainy; it had been taken at night and the lighting was total c.r.a.p. "Yeah. Okay . . . ?"

"Who does that look like?"

I reached over and used my thumb and forefinger to zoom in on the picture. I a.s.sumed the parking lot was from the diner she'd mentioned. After a second, though, I saw who she meant. I snagged the phone out of her hand and held it right up to my face.

She was there. A girl who looked a whole h.e.l.luva lot like Kyra-my Kyra-being toted away by two people toward what looked like a black van. The side door of the van was wide open, like it was waiting for them. Kyra didn't look like she was in any condition to fight her abductors.

I gripped the phone in my palm, trying not to lose my s.h.i.t. "No, G.o.ddammit," I cursed. I was losing the struggle to keep cool. "Where the h.e.l.l were Tyler and her dad when all this was happening?"

Griffin peeled the phone out of my fist. "You can ask 'em yourself. Call came in about an hour ago-they're on their way here now."

CHAPTER THREE.

Day Unknown VOICES. FROM ABOVE OR BEHIND, OR FROM somewhere inside my own head . . . I had no idea. But there were definitely voices.

". . . fought . . ."

". . . Returned . . ."

". . . escape . . ."

I heard other things too, or I thought I did. It was hard to tell. Everything was muddled, like words in a blender set on high speed.

I wanted to say something back. To tell them I was here, in case they didn't know.

I opened my mouth . . . or thought I did. My lips were hot and thick. I tried to make them move.

"M-m . . ." My name is Kyra.

There was a sudden shuffle . . . a skirmish of sounds, blurry like all the rest.

Had I said it? Had they heard me?

And then: "How . . . ? She should be out for hours."

Another voice: "Doesn't matter. Hit her again."

Me? Were they talking about me?

I didn't get the chance to ask-or even attempt to-because something pinched me in the side of my neck . . . and then everything went hopelessly, endlessly black.

SIMON.

I d.a.m.n NEAR TORE THE TRUCK'S DOOR OFF ITS HINGES before the rusted-out piece of s.h.i.t had come to a complete stop. Eight hours. That's how much time had pa.s.sed since we'd gotten the call, and I'd worn a path right through the gra.s.s with all my pacing while we waited for them to get their a.s.ses here.

Had they gotten lost?

Changed their minds?

Been captured the way Kyra had?

The whole time I'd cursed them for not doing a better job watching her. Protecting her. If I'd been there, no one would've touched her. She'd be safe . . . not lugged away like a lifeless sack of wheat to be tossed in the back of some murder van.

Where the h.e.l.l was she, G.o.ddammit? Where the h.e.l.l had they taken her?

The dog, the one Kyra had been so excited to see when I'd dropped her off to meet her dad, wiggled through the opening first, and hit the ground running. She tore around in circles, whipping between my legs like we were long-lost pals. I gave her a halfhearted pat on the mangy fur of her head . . . whatever it took to calm the beast down.

I'd never been much of a dog person.

Griffin stayed behind me, exuding a nervous energy that was atypical for her. She and I had different goals in this. She wasn't worried about Kyra the way I was. But she was worried about appearances, so she put on her leader face and did her best to keep her s.h.i.t together.

Maybe she was fooling the others, but I had her pegged. She had a thing for that Tyler kid.

I should be glad Griff wanted the boy.

Except, I wasn't. For reasons I couldn't even explain, not even to myself, it irked the s.h.i.t out of me that he might like Griffin back. That Kyra would end up getting hurt because of her.

Stupid, I chided. Especially since I wanted Kyra for myself. Wouldn't it be better if the two of them hooked up? Gave me the opening I'd been waiting for?

Well, I'd never been accused of being a genius.

Unlike the dog, Tyler waited to jump down until Ben Agnew had legitimately parked the truck. He glanced at me, which felt more like he was looking right through me, until his eyes landed on Griffin. "Where is everyone?"

I wanted to punch him. The first words out of his mouth should've been about her. About Kyra. This shouldn't be about Blackwater or the other Returned.

I stepped into his line of sight and made him see me this time. "Tell me what happened."

There was a slam, and Kyra's dad came around the front of the truck. "We're not sure exactly," he said. "We stopped at this restaurant, off the interstate-"

I thought about the rules we'd had in place, the carefully drawn guidelines I'd laid out. "Why'd you stop? You weren't supposed to be in public. No one should've seen you."

Tyler answered this time. "We had to leave our campsite. Someone . . . I don't know, something, maybe"-he shot a glance at Kyra's dad before finishing-"found us."

Griffin slipped in next to me. "What do you mean by thing?"

Tyler shook his head. "I wish I knew. Ben said they were trying to send a message to us . . . to Kyra."

"The No-Suchers?" The idea of Agent Truman and his men getting their hands on Kyra made it hard to swallow for a second. I wanted to rip these guys' throats out for letting her down this way.

But Tyler shook his head again.

"Who, then?" Griffin was so much calmer than I could manage. She almost sounded . . . gentle. "Did you get a good look at them? Do you know who took her?"

Ben answered. "I was trying to tell her what I heard at the campground-hikers maybe, with strange voices like static. I said I thought the aliens might be coming for her, but she didn't want to hear it." His eyes were watery as he rubbed his beard. "She needed a few minutes so she went to the bathroom. That's when we heard the explosion out back. That's when Kyra disappeared."

"Jesus-H," I exhaled. "So you thought something might be after her and you left her alone?"

"Just for a second," Tyler explained. His expression was bruised, dark and heavy like storm clouds before a tornado sets down. "Only for a second. We looked everywhere for her, but she was gone." His face crumpled.

G.o.ddammit, I cursed in my head as I realized that whatever happened, he didn't do it on purpose. The kid genuinely likes her.

Maybe I should step aside and let Griffin work her magic, get her hooks in the kid once and for all. Get him out of the way for me.

Then I wouldn't have to feel guilty about his d.a.m.n feelings. I could just swoop in and take his place with Kyra.

Or maybe I was a head case.

I shot a look at Griffin. Why hadn't she told them what she knew, about the picture Jett had come across? I turned to Kyra's dad. "What do you think happened to her?"

He looked lost. He reached down and scratched his dog's head, seeking comfort in the one place he could still find it. "No idea. That's when we called you. We were hoping you could help."

Griffin stepped closer. Closer, namely, to Tyler. "Start at the beginning, at the campsite. Tell us everything you know."

I bit my tongue through most of Ben's explanation. Even after everything we knew . . . even knowing what we were . . . hearing him talking about those hikers and their strange voices, I had to admit he sounded like a nut job. I could see why Kyra needed to take a breather.

But that wasn't what bugged me. I was sure I'd been called a nut job before, worse probably. Back in the day, as a recruiter for Blackwater, my role had been to explain what had happened to us-the abductions and the genetics modifications-to the newly Returned. Being called crazy was par for the course.

No, there was something else wrong with Ben's account. Something in the way he told the story, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. My gut said Ben Agnew was lying . . .

No. Not lying . . . withholding.

I kept my eye on him, evaluating every action. Every mannerism-the way his eyes kept sliding back to us, watching us just as warily. The way he described their narrow escape, and then the diner explosion. How he talked about Kyra. I couldn't figure it out. Couldn't figure him out. He loved his daughter, I didn't doubt that, but did he know something more?

As far as I was concerned withholding at this point was just as bad as an outright lie. I didn't tag him on it . . . not yet anyway. I let him talk. He got to the part where he hadn't stopped Kyra from going to the restroom all by herself, and it was all I could do to keep myself from choking the guy. The both of them.

What had they been thinking? Especially if they seriously believed they'd been sniffed out by something trying to communicate in some sort of white noise?

G.o.dd.a.m.n it!

"So what now?" I asked Griffin, bypa.s.sing the two jacka.s.ses who'd already managed to lose Kyra once.

She pursed her lips, and I wondered if her head was even in the game, or if her brain was scrambled from being so near Tyler again.

Jesus, what the h.e.l.l was wrong with everyone? Was I the only rational one left around here?

When no one answered, my impatience reached the boiling point. "Nothing?" I prodded. "Then let me break it down for you. I think one of you knows more than you're letting on." With supreme discipline, I managed to keep from stabbing Kyra's dad with my critical gaze. "But this isn't the time to hold anything back. Kyra's in trouble and if we don't figure this thing out, who knows what they're gonna do to her."

"They . . . ? But how can we get her back if they've taken her again?" Tyler started, and I couldn't help thinking he was a few bricks shy of a load.

"Jesus, Griff!" I exploded, p.i.s.sed we were talking about alien abductions when we knew d.a.m.ned well this was foul play of the human variety. "Show them the freaking picture."

Griffin's eyes turned to accusatory slits, and I wondered when she'd planned to share. Without explanation, she pulled out her phone and pa.s.sed them the image of Kyra's limp body being hauled through the parking lot. "Do any of these guys look familiar?" she asked.

I knew the moment Ben recognized his daughter in the c.r.a.ppy photo, because his shoulders stiffened. "Kyr," he breathed, and the way he said it redeemed him for the moment. That kind of anguish can't be faked. But he shook his head. "I don't know these guys."

"Me neither," Tyler added, his voice hollow. Then he leaned closer. "Wait a sec." He squinted, his finger lifting to the phone and tapping it. He pointed to a fuzzy image of a girl with pale blond hair who was off to the side. "Her. She was there. She went in the bathroom right after Kyra did."

Hope swelled inside me. A lead. Flimsy, but a lead all the same. "Jett's gotten nowhere trying to ID the two guys. Maybe he'll have more luck with the girl. It's worth a shot." I hoped to G.o.d Jett could work his magic.

"Look, right before she . . . well, whatever happened to her." Tyler hesitated, took a deep breath, then continued. "Kyra and I were talking. I was telling her about something . . . a dream I'd had about her."

I scowled at him. This wasn't the time and I really didn't want to hear about them . . . not about them talking and especially not about dreams he'd had about her. Frankly, if Kyra wasn't in trouble, I wouldn't be sitting here listening to him at all. Ever.

When I glanced Griffin's way, I saw the same thing in her expression. While I had a knot in my stomach, hers was smack in the middle of her forehead, in the pinched crease between her eyebrows.

Oblivious, because he was Tyler and "oblivious" should have been his middle name if you asked me, the kid kept going. "I told her I think there's someplace we're supposed to be . . . maybe go. I keep dreaming about these . . . maps." He made a face, like this was supposed to be tough on him too-a stupid dream. "But the thing was, she already knew about it."

Griffin leaned forward, more interested than I could pretend to be. "Maps?" she asked, her eyebrows screwed up in a different way now-less worried and more curious. "What kinds of maps?"

"That's what was weird about it. Not ordinary maps, of roads or anything. Just a bunch of"-he shrugged-"I don't know . . . scribbles mostly."

Scribbles? Kyra was out there, and he was blathering on about scribbles?

"Can you show them to us?" Griffin asked.

Tyler looked uncertainly from me to Ben and then to Griffin. "I can try."

He reached down in front of him and used his hand to clear a spot in the ground, brushing the dirt so it was smooth and flat. Then he picked up a stick and began to scratch out shapes. There were lines, both straight and curved. Loops that intersected other loops. Complete spheres, partial crescents, and sharp points with acute and obtuse angles.

Scribbles. The whole thing looked like complete garbage. A total waste of time.

I stood up, tired of doing nothing. I'd find Jett and together we'd figure out a way to get a lead on the blond girl in the image. We'd find Kyra with or without these useless lumps.

I was about to say as much when I glanced one more time at the second-rate sand sketches Tyler had drawn.

"Holy . . . ," I started. "That's no map. I mean it is, but it isn't, not really."

"What is it then?" Tyler asked.