LIAM'S POV
The cruiser’s taillights vanished into the trees, taking Maya with them. I stood in the frozen dark, my hand against the cold glass of the ranger station window. They’d taken her. She’d walked out into the light and they’d taken her, to save me.
The satellite phone felt like a brick in my hand. The evidence. Marcus Finch. Twenty-four hours.
I moved on pure instinct. The drop was a storage locker. I didn’t break in so much as dismantle the lock with a tire iron from my trunk. The envelope inside was thick. I didn’t read it under the lone bulb. I didn’t need to. The weight of it was enough.
I didn’t go to the cops. I drove straight to Ben Shields, a reporter at the Tribune who’d once bought a series of my photos. I met him in a booth at a diner that smelled of old grease.
“I
