The lights burned my eyes. I couldn't move. Hell, I couldn't think.
Anna's son's drawing was in my hand. The one from the video. The one Marcus held up.
Mike, David's friend, had been bought.
David was already on his phone, stabbing at it, calling Mike. It rang, but he never answered.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."
Marcus's voice came again from the speakers, smooth as silk. "Mike was very reasonable. Fifty thousand dollars and a clean record for his nephew who's doing time. Turns out everyone has a price. You of all people should know that, Clara."
Anna grabbed the drawing from my hand. She stared at it like it might give her answers. Her face was red with fury.
"Where is he?" she screamed at the ceiling. "WHERE IS MY SON?"
"Safe," Marcus said. "For now. He's comfortable, cryin
