83
Henderson
Nowhere to be found.
The words rattle around my migraine-ridden brain, the letters twisting on the screen like snakes.
All my contacts are telling me my wife and children are nowhere to be found. It’s like they vanished into thin air.
My neck spasms in pain, the agony radiating down my left arm. I want to howl like an animal and down a pack of pills, but I can’t.
I need all my wits about me for this.
The odds are high that Sokolov already has them. What else could explain their disappearance? There are no records of them leaving Iceland, no plane tickets issued to anyone matching their description.
They must’ve been captured and abducted.
Soon, I will get a demand to turn myself over, along with some body parts from my children. Sokolov won’t spare them—not after what
