chest.
“She’s safe, Daniel,” Marcus said, placing a firm, grounding hand on my shoulder. “She’s in the back of the sergeant’s patrol cruiser with an EMS tech. Dehydrated, minor asphalt scrapes on the soles of her feet, but physically whole. She’s waiting for you.”
I turned toward the cruiser, but Marcus gripped my arm tighter.
“Look at the picture again, Daniel. Really look at him.”
I forced my eyes down to the screen of Marcus’s burner tablet. The image showed a little boy, no older than four or five, sitting on the hardwood floor of our guest bedroom upstairs. He had dark wavy hair, wide hazel eyes, and a small crescent-shaped scar above his left eyebrow. He was clutching a faded blue teddy bear—a bear I recognized instantly because my late brother, Thomas, had owned one exactly like it when we were boys.
My breath hitched. “Thomas?”
“Not Thomas,” Marcus
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