The screaming never stopped. Never. Max pressed his hands over his ears as hard as he could as he sat on the edge of the bed. It only muffled the sound a little, the ear-piercing screams from his terrified mother and the low guttural yells from his brother only seeming slightly farther away, punctuated by intermittent growls and shouts from their father.

One of the youngest officers to be promoted to the detective unit, the police brass had quickly learned two things about Max when he’d finished the Academy. Number one, he was a quick study, wickedly smart with a nearly photographic memory. Number two, he was better off not dealing with people. Managing people’s emotions, not to mention his own, wasn't exactly his strong suit.

Grady had once read that people who were in physical pain had terrible personal skills, the condition of their physical body causing them to lose any semblance of nicety or manners.

“My wife, she hasn’t been home in a while. This morning, I got a call, and it seems that instead of her just being gone, she’s been kidnapped.”“And what makes you think that?” Grady said, narrowing his eyes. Noah pushed the box he’d been carrying toward Grady. “Take a look inside.”

“I hate it when people call me Max,” Grady grunted. “That is your name.”“No, that was my father’s name,” Grady said firmly.

Eventually, somehow things would end — either they would let her go, she would escape, someone would rescue her or, she’d die in the process. There weren’t that many options.

Somehow, the way Cassie said things always sounded more pleasant, like it was the Disney version of whatever Grady was saying.

“Don’t worry about it. Just take a breath and try to tell me what happened.” It actually wasn’t all right. Having the recording would have made everything easier. There was nothing about this case that was easy, though.

Macy shivered. There were many good things about being a professor of literature, but one of the bad things was that she knew her imagination could run wild after living in the world of fiction for so long.