Theo sat quietly as his captors drove south down Highway 85. The handcuffs were wound tight, but at least they’d been nice enough to re-cuff him with his hands in front of him when they stopped for gas. Even the slightest movement of his wrists was excruciating. He’d never experienced such unceasing pain. But he’d rather feel that than the numbing panic that was slowly overtaking him as the car drove deeper into Clayton County, south of Atlanta. Pain was localized, but panic was all-encompassing, engulfing. Familiar parking lots and stores and restaurants were already transforming into places where he could concretely envision his death and nothing else, future crime scenes.
Theo only knew three addresses in Clayton County: Kai’s home address, Sol’s grandmother’s address, and Independence
