Simon Says Die

floor, curling her fingers against the door.
    A sound had her sitting up straight. A footstep, another. Closer, closer, stopping right outside the door.
    Her heart was beating so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. She waited, watching the doorknob. Praying the door would open, but dreading it at the same time.
    A full minute passed. Nothing. No sound. The door remained firmly shut.
    She quietly leaned down and laid her head on the cold concrete to peek underneath the door.
    Something flew at her, brushing against her face.
    She screamed and jerked back.
    The sound of laughter echoed in the hallway, floating back to her as the footsteps sounded outside again, getting farther away, fainter, fainter, until she couldn’t hear them anymore.
    A white piece of paper lay on the concrete. That’s what had flown at her from under the door.
    Her hand shook as she slowly reached out and picked up the piece of paper. Letters were pasted onto the page, in different sizes and colors, as if they’d been cut from a magazine. When she read what it said, she began to shake so hard her teeth chattered together.
    Y OUR PUNISHMENT IS ABOUT TO BEGIN .
    T WENTY-FOUR HOURS.
    Madison had been missing for more than twenty-four hours. Pierce had worked violent crimes long enough to know the exact odds of her being found alive.
    They weren’t good.
    The sun coming in through Madison’s bedroom window had him blinking against the harsh light. He’d gone upstairs late last night, so tired he couldn’t focus anymore. He’d intended to take a quick nap, but the sun coming through the window told him he’d slept far longer than he’d meant to.
    He cursed and jumped out of bed. He rushed through his morning routine, taking a mostly cold shower to try to wake up. Braedon had brought him a travel bag with fresh clothes from his house. Pierce didn’t bother with the shaver. He threw on some slacks and a dress shirt and padded in his bare feet down the stairs.
    He nodded at Lieutenant Hamilton sitting on one of the couches as he headed into the kitchen for some caffeine. Hamilton looked as bad as Pierce felt. In spite of his doubts about Madison, Hamilton was doing everything in his power to help find her, making Pierce regret the bad thoughts he’d had about the man.
    Most of them.
    He poured a cup of coffee and took a quick sip, grimacing at the bitter taste, but welcoming the caffeine. He called out to Hamilton from the kitchen. “Heard anything?”
    The lieutenant let out a loud yawn. “No, too early.”
    Pierce took another deep sip. Tessa was still following up on the one lead they had—the sighting at the Super 8 motel yesterday. She was a bulldog when it came to leads, and he had every faith that if there was something to find, she’d find it. She was young, inexperienced but tenacious and clever. If anyone could figure out what really happened at that motel, Tessa could.
    Or Logan.
    He was the best investigator Pierce had ever met. He could look at a series of seemingly unrelated facts and see the pattern that revealed the truth.
    Pierce glanced at his watch. Logan had said he’d try to get a flight out of Italy last night, but he had to take his bride, Amanda, to leave her with his mother and the mother’s new husband. Logan refused to bring his wife to Savannah. He said she’d been through far too much to be plopped back in the middle of turmoil again.
    Pierce understood Logan’s stance, but he hated that he had to wait that much longer for Logan to get here and pitch in with the investigation.
    He drained his cup, refilled it, then filled one for Hamilton.
    The lieutenant nodded gratefully when Pierce set the cup down in front of him.
    â€œDon’t thank me yet,” Pierce said. “You haven’t tasted how bad it is.”
    Hamilton laughed, a hollow, tired sound. “As long as it keeps me awake, I don’t care what it tastes like. Heard anything from Mrs. McKinley’s brother?”
    Pierce sat down across from Hamilton. “Last I heard, he’d just booked a flight to France to drop off his wife. Should’ve gotten there sometime during the night. Hopefully he’s on his way here by now.”
    â€œI hope he’s as good as you say he is. I’m about out of ideas.”
    â€œHe is.” The sound of the front door opening had him turning around. His brothers, all of them, came through the door, with Alex