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past the rented dumpster to the shed at the end of the driveway. Connor had always thought of it as a shed because he wasn’t sure what else to call it. It was bigger than any shed he had ever seen, but with the double doors, it certainly didn’t look like a garage. If anything, it might be best described as a barn, if a barn had any place in the suburbs.

Connor pulled out the key Dylan had found in Austin’s bedroom. “Stand back so I can get some light,” he told his friends as he tried to work the key into the padlock.

The key fit, turned. The lock clicked open.

It was the moment of truth.

He tossed the padlock on the ground, grabbed the handles. There was still no sound from inside. God, he hoped his parents weren’t in there. “You ready?” he said to Olin, who was holding the baseball bat and seemed just as worried as Connor was about what they might find.

Olin nodded. “Do it.”

Connor pulled the doors open. As dark as it was, he couldn’t see much. But he could see the van. Blue paint. Rusty. Old. It was the same van Connor had seen pull up to his house some weeks back. If there had been any doubt left, it was gone now.

“Austin is the kidnapper.”

Neither Dylan nor Olin responded. Perhaps they were both in shock, or perhaps, since it was a simple statement of fact, there was nothing to say.

Connor pulled out his phone, turned on the flashlight to examine the rest of the space. The three friends stayed close, moving into the shed as one. The cement floor was dusty, the walls bare. As far as they could see, there was nothing here but the van.

Connor was glad he hadn’t found his parents’ bodies. But it also meant they were still missing, and Austin was the only one who knew where to find them.

CHAPTER 52

Austin did not dream, and when he awoke, he had no idea how much time had passed. Everything was fuzzy at first. Why was he on the floor? What had happened? Slowly, his memory returned. Connor had denied drugging his coffee, but Austin had no doubt that was exactly what he had done.

He called Connor’s name to see if the boy was still in the apartment. Connor didn’t answer.

He groaned as he sat up. A wave of dizziness washed over him. He could tell the drug was not out of his system. Far from it. Because of that, he was careful getting to his feet. He worried his balance would again betray him. But he was not giving in to the drug again. He had to know what Connor and his friends had been up to while he was unconscious.

A look around the apartment answered that question right away. The place was a mess. Books were scattered across the floor in front of the bookcase. Everything was overturned or out of place.

Once he was certain he could walk, he went straight to the bedroom. The door was open. Shit. They had gotten inside. Still, the key to the padlock was well hidden, he told himself. They likely hadn’t found it.

But just a glance at the bedside tables dispelled that hope. The drawers were pulled out completely and lay overturned on the floor. Even from where he was, he could see the key was missing.

It didn’t take much guesswork to figure out where Connor would have gone. Austin had to go after him. He hoped he could get to the house before it was too late. If Connor found the van, he would no doubt draw the wrong conclusion. Austin wasn’t a bad person. He was a person who had had a bad thing done to him.

He hurried across the apartment, grabbed his phone off the coffee table. He looked at the clock on the screen and determined he had only been unconscious for forty-five minutes. Good thing he hadn’t finished the whole cup of coffee. If he had, he would probably be out for the night. Then again, maybe it was all the coffee he had drunk that evening that had kept the drug from being more effective. Not that it mattered.

He headed for the front door, reaching into his pocket for his keys as he went, and found nothing. Shit.

He had a spare car key in a junk drawer in the kitchen, but that wouldn’t matter if Connor had also taken his truck. He changed course, went to the window instead. Sometimes, he had to park a block or two away. Today, he had gotten lucky and found a spot right outside his building. He would be able to see his truck from the window if it was there.

It wasn’t.

So be it. He still had one more option—the old Mustang with the stolen plate he used when running errands that he didn’t want to be associated with.

Connor tried the driver’s side door and found it unlocked. He climbed into the van.

“What are you doing?” Olin asked.

“I want to have a look around. Maybe I can find something.”

“Count me in,” Dylan announced, and scurried around the vehicle to the passenger door. It was locked. She gestured for Connor to open it.

“Just stay there,” he said.

“Pleeeeeease.”

Ugh. “Fine.” He pushed the door open. “But don’t touch anything.”

Olin stared at the two of them incredulously. “Get out of there—both of you,” he said. “We need to let the police handle this.”

Connor wasn’t listening. He was busy searching for evidence. Or, more specifically, information about where Austin had taken his parents. He checked the pocket in the driver’s door, flipped down the visor, opened the console between the seats. Austin’s preference for minimalism was on display everywhere he looked. There wasn’t even a scrap of paper to be found.

Then he heard Dylan say, “Look.”

The glovebox was open in front of her and a car key dangled from a ring she held between her fingers.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Connor