“It’s time to come clean, Violet,” I say. “Are you and your old boyfriend taking these kids? Are you involved with some kind of trafficking ring—”

“No,” she cries. “I’m not involved.”

“We’re having trouble believing you since you lied to us about talking to Nick in the first place,” Astra says, her tone hard and unyielding.

She pauses for a moment and runs the sleeve of her sweater across her eyes. Violet draws in a long, shaky breath, holds it, then lets it out as she takes a few moments to gather herself. She finally raises her head and looks at us directly for the first time since we arrived.

“I lied because I knew how it would look,” she tells us. “Nick is a bad guy, but I don’t have anything to do with him anymore. I swear it.”

“Your phone records suggest otherwise,” I say.

“It’s time to tell us everything, Violet,” Astra presses.

“He called me asking for money. I told him I couldn’t help him and to not call me again,” she says. “He was desperate and threatened me—told me he knows that the Senator has a lot of money, and he wanted a payday.”

“Did he tell you he was going to take Ashley?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. I told him that he wasn’t going to get anything from Elliot either. I told him to go away and leave us alone,” she says. “He never said anything about taking Ashley. For whatever it’s worth, I don’t think he did.”

“And why not?”

“Because Nick isn’t a planner. You said whoever took Ashley was methodical and disciplined. That’s not Nick. He’s always stoned out of his mind. He’s agitated and doesn’t think before he does… anything. He just does whatever occurs to him at the moment,” she tells us.

What Violet is telling us jibes with what I’ve read in Zane’s record. He seems more reactionary and knee-jerk than methodical planner. But that’s all conjecture. And like my gut feelings, conjecture isn’t definitive.

“What would you say if we told you we have Nick on video stalking Ashley,” Astra says. “It sure seemed like he was planning something to us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We have footage of Nick tailing Ashley and her friend Nicole through the mall,” I tell her. “It’s clear as day. He was watching them.”

“That… that can’t be. He wouldn’t—”

“It looks to us like he did,” Astra says.

Her face falls, and she wavers as if her legs are about to give out beneath her. She manages to stay on her feet, though, barely. Violet shakes her head and mutters to herself darkly as she processes everything we just told her. It looks like she’s having trouble reconciling it all.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she says softly. “He told me he would tell Elliot I was using again if I didn’t give him money.”

“Are you using again?” Astra asks.

“No. God no. Elliot has given me a second chance, and I’m not wasting it. I’ve wasted too many years already,” she replies.

“So, why would Nick think that threat would work?” Astra presses.

“Because like I told you, he doesn’t plan. He just does things. I don’t know if you know this about him, but he’s not very smart. He dropped out of school in sixth grade. He doesn’t think about anything—doesn’t have the ability to think rationally or logically to begin with. And of course, the drugs don’t help either. But that’s who Nick Zane is,” she says.

Drumming my fingers on the counter, I shake my head. As much as I hate to say it, I believe her. I believe she’s being honest with us. I came in here sure that Violet either had something to do with these abductions or at least knew something about it. Now, though, I’m not so sure.

“And you didn’t think to tell us all this before… why?” Astra asks gruffly.

“Like I said, I knew how it might look, and I was afraid,” she says. “Plus, I genuinely don’t think Nick did it. He’s just not smart enough.”

“But he’s very motivated,” Astra says. “And that can make up for a lot of shortcomings.”

I watch as a fat tear dangles off her chin, quivering before it falls, splashing onto the counter next to her mug of tea.

“I didn’t think about it like that,” she replies sadly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why we told you how important it was that you were honest with us,” Astra growls. “Because you lied, if Nick took her, he’s had days now to do… God knows what.”

Violet’s shoulders shake as she cries. She buries her face in her hands and sobs, sounding like an injured animal. We give her a moment to collect herself, and when she finally does, I look at her with the sternest expression I can manage.

“It’s time you make this right,” I tell her. “You need to tell us where Nick is, Violet. And you need to tell us now.”

Homeworth Motel; Tysons Corner, VA

About half an hour to the west of Senator Barlow’s home in Arlington is Tysons Corner. For a long time, Tysons Corner was a rural area best known for a couple of giant shopping centers. It was also known for its rough neighborhoods and crime as well as for rampant drug manufacturing and distribution. But aggressive gentrification and an influx of technological capital and businesses over the last few years have been reshaping the area, turning it into one of the fastest growing communities near the Beltway.

But not even the steady flow of money has been able to shed light into all the dark corners. Even though it’s quickly becoming a relatively affluent bedroom community for those who work in the DC Metro area, some of the rougher areas stubbornly remain. They’re dug in deep, and I don’t think the powers that be are going to be able to root them out anytime soon.

“All right, everybody gear up. Make sure you’re wearing your vest. We have no idea what we’re walking into here,” I say.

“Shouldn’t we call in a SWAT team?” Paige asks.

“We probably should. But that’s going to invite questions Senator Barlow does not want to answer,” I respond. “As of right now, Ashley’s abduction hasn’t been linked with Peter’s, and I want to keep it that way for as long as we can.”

“Copy that,” Paige says, sounding uneasy.

I understand her hesitance. We don’t have an operational plan, any information about the layout of the hotel, or any intel about the target. For all we know, he’s sitting in his room with machine guns and a nuclear bomb. If we were following proper protocol, we’d call in a SWAT team, let them recon the place, formulate a plan, and go in with force. But we need to be more discreet than that. I’m banking on the fact that there are four of us and one guy who’s likely either high or strung out in that room alone. I’m hoping that the four of us will be sufficient to overwhelm him and get him into custody before he can even think to grab his weapon.

“Okay, Mo, Paige, you two circle around the back,” I say. “Keep him from going out the back window. Be careful and keep your heads on a swivel.”

“Copy that,” Mo says.

Mo and Paige trot off, circling around the back of the motel to get into position. There are a few people on the street watching us with a mix of curiosity and fear on their faces. I give Mo and Paige a few moments to get around back, then turn to Astra.

“You ready?” I ask.

Astra checks the safety on the M4 Carbine in her hands and tightens her crossbody strap, then nods. “Good to go.”

Unholstering my Glock, I hold it down at my side and lead Astra across the parking lot within the horseshoe-shaped building, heading for Zane’s room. Shady doesn’t begin to describe the Homeworth Motel. The yellow paint on the building is faded and cracked, cardboard is taped over some of the broken windows, and the water in the pool is a pale shade of green. This place has clearly seen better days. But the rooms are cheap, and as the sign out front proclaims, offers daily, weekly, and monthly rates. I’m sure if you asked, it offers hourly rates as well.

Adrenaline floods my system when a door to our left opens and we both spin, raising our weapons. The woman standing in the doorway gapes at us, her face frozen with fear. Astra waves her back toward the room.