SENECA USED THE flashlight on her phone to illuminate the basement. There was a pool table in the middle of the room, an air hockey table in one corner, and what looked like a pinball machine on the far wall. In another corner was a huge television and at least four different types of video game consoles. The beam of light swept across a bar stocked with every type of liquor imaginable and a tabletop slot machine.

“Here are the stairs,” Madison whispered from the left. Seneca and Maddox tiptoed toward her. The three of them crept up to the first floor, carefully pushing the door open to reveal a gleaming modern kitchen. There wasn’t a single item on the counters. The trash can didn’t have a liner in it. A fruit bowl was empty. The only sound in the room was the gentle buzz of the appliances.

Seneca looked at the others. “Why aren’t alarms blaring? Is this a trap?”

“Or maybe she isn’t here,” Madison said.

Maddox cocked his head to the left, then pointed down a long hall full of windows. “Wait. I hear something.”

Seneca strained to listen. After a moment, she did hear something: Faint voices. An electronic hum. Her skin prickled. She met Maddox’s gaze and nodded.

But Madison took a step toward the basement door. “Maybe we should leave.”

Seneca gaped at her. “What are you talking about? We have to see what that is!”

“Hello?”

A voice drifted from down the hall. Seneca’s heart froze in her chest. She wasn’t sure the voice was real…but then someone called out again. “Hello?” It was a girl. “Wh-who’s out there?”

Seneca rushed toward the sound. “Seneca!” Maddox called out behind her, but she kept going. At the end of the hall was a closed door; someone was pounding on it from the inside. “Help me! Help me, please! I’m locked in!”

Seneca’s hands trembled on the knob, but it didn’t turn. Hurriedly, she pulled a credit card from her wallet. She jammed the card below the bolt and swiped up quickly. The knob didn’t budge. She swore under her breath.

“What’s going on?” the voice cried.

Seneca tried the card in the door again, thrusting upward even more forcefully this time. The bolt released. The knob turned, and the door swung open. A girl huddled on the carpet, a girl whose face she’d memorized so intensely and thought about so continuously it was jarring she was actually a real person.

Chelsea.

The girl trembled as she stared at them. Her hair was clean and styled, there was color in her cheeks, and she was wearing a dress that looked like it had been ironed only moments ago. But her eyes were wide and full of tears. Her limbs were trembling. As Maddox took a step inside, she cowered back, shielding her chest. “Are you with him?”

“With who?” Seneca asked, even though she already knew.

“No,” Maddox said at the same time. “Of course not.”

Chelsea’s eyes darted back and forth. “Then he’s going to find you. He’ll hurt you.”

“Where is he?” Maddox peered around the room. There was a strange look on his face. “Is he here?”

Seneca peered around, too. It was only then she noticed Chelsea was being held in a luxurious master suite. A huge four-poster king bed sat in the middle of the room. The shades were drawn, but the television was on, tuned to Bravo. A pretty mirror, draped with a bra and several changes of clothes, stood in the corner. Past that was a massive marble bathroom, the counter messy with bottles and jars and powder puffs. The air smelled like perfume and fresh coffee.

She looked back at Chelsea. Her shiny hair bounced. Seneca also noticed she had makeup on: eyeliner, mascara, pink lipstick. There was a gold necklace at her throat and several bangle bracelets on her wrists. The terror on her face was positively incongruous. “H-he usually talks to me from another room,” she said, wobbling as she stood. “It was only yesterday that he came out and I saw his face.” She gazed into the hall in terror. “He’s going to hurt us if he finds out. I know he will.”

“It’s okay,” Seneca said as she rushed to her side. “We’re getting you out right now. All right? Do you think you can walk?”

Chelsea nodded shakily. Seneca held out her hands and helped the girl through the door.

Behind her, Seneca heard the sirens. Out the window, police cars kicked up dust in the driveway. Maddox opened one of the French doors and stood on the balcony. “We found someone inside!” he shouted at the officers. “It’s Chelsea Dawson!”

Seneca and Madison held Chelsea up as they walked down the hall. Seneca’s heart pounded the whole time, expecting Brett to appear. But as they opened the door and pushed Chelsea into the fresh air, nothing happened. Cops swarmed her immediately. She stepped back into the house, letting the emergency technicians look Chelsea over. They’d made it. Chelsea was safe. Now it was time to find Brett.

She spun around and got to work quickly, opening doors, peering into alcoves, bounding up staircases, knowing full well that Brett might attack her at every turn. But all she found was emptiness. The house smelled immaculately clean—the same sandalwood/cleaning products mix, she realized with a jolt, that Gabriel’s condo had smelled like. Uneasy, she thundered down the stairs and swept over Chelsea’s bedroom again. Peeked into the pool area. Ambushed a kitchen pantry. Nothing.

“Where are you?” she whispered, standing in the middle of the kitchen. It was clear he wasn’t going to answer. This was another part of Brett’s plan, and he’d executed it perfectly.

A police officer appeared out of nowhere and took her arm. “Miss, you have to leave,” he urged. “We need forensics in here. This is a crime scene.”

“But…” Seneca protested. Listlessly, she stepped aside and let the cops swarm in. She knew they wouldn’t find anything. The house was empty. And as that realization slowly seeped in, Seneca felt empty, too.