Shea drove back to the hotel, keeping an eye out for the black SUV or anyone else who might be following. Either no one was tailing them or their pursuers were getting harder to spot.
To her relief, her bike remained in the motel parking lot. At least something’s going right, she thought.
They climbed the stairs to the room. As Wendy opened the door, the phone in Shea’s jacket rang. Wendy gasped and dropped the key on the floor.
Shea pulled the phone out of her jacket pocket. “Hello.”
“You the little girl’s mother?” The voice was deep and gravelly with a Latino accent, the same one on the video.
Shea directed Wendy into the room and closed the door behind them.
“She’s not feeling well. I’m her sister. You can talk to me,” she said, taking a seat on the bed. Wendy sat beside her, eyes
