“What?”
Riley swallowed. “They said it was in a box somewhere and they would ‘take care of it.’ My mom told me all my baby stuff was ruined in a flood, but my dad told me it was a leaky roof. My mom gives me pills every morning, but I can’t even look at the bottle.”
“There has to be logical explanations for all that, Ry. I was totally messing with you. I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”
Riley sucked in a breath. “There’s something else. I was at home the other night and the doorbell rang. When I came back upstairs, there was a poster of a missing kid on my screen.”
“Who was at the door? Who was the kid?” Shelby rolled to a stop and gaped at Riley. “My God, I didn’t think it was actually true. Was the missing kid you?”
“No one was at the door. I don’t know who the baby was.” She reached into her purse and handed Shelby the second postcard. “And then there was this.”
“I know who you are,” Shelby read out loud. Her cheeks paled. “Ry, this is serious. You have to talk to your parents. Or go to the police or something.”
“I can’t go to the police. What if they arrest my parents? And I don’t know if I can talk to my parents. What do I say? ‘Did you snatch me off the street?’”
“Who sent you this?”
Riley swung her head. “I don’t know. It’s the same person who sent the other one, I guess. I mean, obviously. How many people send random, one-line postcards to strangers?”
“Whoever sent them is no stranger, Ry. I know who you are…”
They drove the rest of the way to the mall in silence, Riley’s phone ringing as they stepped into the first store.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Where are you?”
Riley sighed. “I’m at the mall with Shelby.”
“No one gave you permission to leave the house. You didn’t even call us or leave a note.”
She felt the heat flicker in the pit of her stomach. “I’m not a little kid, Mom. Shelby just picked me up and we’re at the mall. No big deal.”
Her mother spat something back but Riley’s eye was wandering, caught on a little girl and her mother. They were holding hands but when the kid—five or six years old at best—caught sight of the play structure in the middle of the mall, she dropped her mother’s hand and took off running.
Maybe I just ran away, and my parents picked me up?
“Do you hear me, Riley? Tell Shelby to bring you home right now.”
Riley watched the scene in front of her. The mother of the little girl was immediately panic-stricken, her whole face crumpling in the seconds that her daughter disappeared then reappeared on the play structure. The mother had a hand splayed on her chest as if to stop her thundering heart.
Riley tore her eyes away.
“I’m not going to make her drive me all the way home. We just got here.”
“Then your father and I will meet you in front of the coffeehouse in twenty minutes.”
Shelby came out of the store, brows raised. “What’s up?”
“The wardens are picking me up in twenty.”
“Seriously?” Shelby’s face fell.
“Yeah. But you go find your barf-free backpack. I better do as I was told and tether myself to the coffee place.”
“Use your one jailhouse phone call to call me.”
The mall was getting crowded, and Riley wound herself through clutches of singles and groups when she felt fingertips brush against her bare arm. There was a man beside her, staring straight ahead. He was older, maybe in his twenties, and stood a head taller.
She saw the man’s lips move, thought she heard him mutter, “Don’t worry.”
“Excuse me?”
He didn’t repeat himself, but Riley’s eyes followed his fingers as they tightened around her wrist. Her heart was slamming into her ribcage, her pulse hammering underneath his thumb.
“I’ll scream,” Riley said. “If you don’t let me go right now, I’ll scream.”
His grip tightened, every finger like a steel band digging in. “Don’t do that.”
Her mind was racing. All around her people swarmed, chatting, shopping, moving right past without even looking at her. Their chatter was overwhelming. Even if she could scream, she didn’t think anyone would hear her.
“There are police,” she said, “right after the next shop. Let me go and I won’t say anything, I promise.” Her lower lip started to tremble, her eyes filling with tears—but she gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t let this man see her cry. “The police—”
The man gripping her arm gave Riley a quick glance—just quick enough for her to memorize his thick jaw, his ice-blue eyes, and the scar that cleaved his lower lip. “You won’t scream and you won’t say anything to the police. You wouldn’t do that to your parents.”
Riley stopped walking, everything inside of her running cold.
“How do you know my parents?”
He tugged her arm. “Keep walking.”
Heat, picking up speed as it sped through her veins, was breaking out all over her. There was a tightening in her chest.