Tasha paced her colorful living room, phone pressed to her ear. For the fifth time, Kimberly's call went straight to voicemail.

It was past 10 p.m.

"Damn it, Kim. Where are you?" she muttered, her initial fury metamorphosing into cold dread.

Kimberly Carter never missed girls' night. Kim was the glue of their friendship, the reminder, the checklist queen. And now she wasn't just incommunicado. She was absent.

Tasha tried to think rationally. Car trouble. Dead phone. Lost track of time in that bathroom sanctuary of hers. But beneath the excuses, fear pulsed steadily.

She dropped onto her couch and pulled her laptop onto her knees. If Kim wasn't answering, maybe she could find her another way.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up programs most people didn't know existed. Kim's last social media activity: 6:47 p.m., a like on Instagram. Nothing after that. No credit card activity either. Tasha had access to Kim's accounts for emergencies. The last charge was from three days ago.

She tried to ping Kim's phone location. Error. The phone was either off or destroyed.

Tasha's stomach dropped.

She grabbed her keys. Somerset Hills first, then the Black Orchid. If Kim wasn't at either place, then she'd have to make the call she'd been avoiding.

***************************

Somerset Hills felt too serene for her mood. Perfect lawns, lamp-lit streets, gated mansions bathed in moonlight. Two intimidating guards let her through with a face and voice scan.

Inside the lobby, chandeliers glittered in golden hues. A new concierge sat at the polished oak desk, barely glancing up.

"Ms. Kimberly went out this evening," he said curtly.

"What time?"

"Around eight, I think."

"Alone?"

He nodded, already turning back to his phone.

Tasha's mind raced. Kim left around eight. It was now past ten. Where would she go that she couldn't answer her phone for two hours?

The Black Orchid was packed, Friday night in full swing. Tasha pushed through the crowd to their usual velvet booth by the rear window.

No Kimberly.

The bartender, Ivy, caught her eye and shook her head before Tasha even asked.

"Haven't seen her tonight," Ivy said.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "You two are hard to miss."

Tasha slumped onto a barstool. Her phone sat heavy in her purse. One contact. One call. But making it meant admitting she needed help from him.

Xavier Rossetti.

The man who'd ghosted her best friend four years ago without explanation. The man Tasha had never trusted, never liked. But the man who had resources the police didn't. Connections that could find people when they didn't want to be found.

She stared at her phone.

Not yet. She'd give it another hour.

But the hour passed with no word from Kim, and Tasha's fingers were shaking as she dialed.

"Tasha." Xavier's voice was smooth, controlled. "It's late."

"Kim's missing." The words came out sharper than she intended. "Her phone is not going through. She didn't show up for our girls' night out tonight. Something's wrong."

A pause. "How long?"

"Hours. Since before eight."

"Have you tried..."

"I've tried everything. You are my last resort," Tasha's voice cracked. "Xavier, I need your help. Please."

Another pause, longer this time. When he spoke again, something had shifted in his tone. "I'll make some calls."

The line went dead.

*****************************

The call came the next afternoon. Police had found Kimberly's car at a gas station off Highway 47.

Tasha stood behind the yellow tape, arms wrapped around herself. The car looked almost normal, doors closed, windows intact. But the broken taillight told a different story, likewise the dented trunk and the scuff marks on the pavement.

"Her purse and jacket are still inside," Officer Mills said, notepad in hand. "But no phone. Can you think of any reason Ms. Carter would be on Highway 47?"

Tasha's mind raced. Highway 47 led to Willow Creek. To Kim's mother's house.

"She might have been going to visit her mom," Tasha said carefully.

Officer Mills made a note. "We'll follow up. When did you last speak to her?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"And she didn't mention any plans? Anyone she was meeting?"

"No. We had plans together. She never showed."

Her phone buzzed. Xavier.

Tasha stepped away. "Did you find something?"

"Where are you?" His voice was tight.

"The gas station where they found her car."

"I'm sending someone to get you. Don't go home. Don't go anywhere alone."

"Xavier, what... "

"Just trust me. My people will be there in ten minutes." He paused. "Tasha, this wasn't random. Whoever took her knew what they were doing."

The line went dead.

Tasha stared at the phone, then at Kimberly's abandoned car with its broken taillight and empty driver's seat. Tears slipped from her eyes.

Somewhere out there, her best friend was in trouble.

And Tasha had just made a deal with the devil to get her back.

***************************

Twenty-four hours after Kimberly disappeared, Tasha's voice lashed like a whip into her phone.

"It's been twenty-four hours, Xavier! T-w-e-n-t-y-f-o-u-r hours!" she screamed. "Kimberly can't just vanish without a trace. How can you not find her? Don't be inept like the damned police, please!"

At the other end, Xavier's irritation flickered in his piercing dark eyes, but his expression stayed hard. "We will find her, Tasha. My best hands are already on it."

Deflated, she slumped into the nearest couch, biting her lip, wondering if she should tell him that Kimberly was Rae Brooks. Maybe that's why she was kidnapped? But then, she thought better of it. That's a secret she had no right to divulge. At least not yet. Besides, nobody knew Kimberly was Rae Brooks.

She drew a shaky breath. "Please, Xavier, find Kimberly, no matter what it takes. Find her. This is one of the reasons you have her tracked. Find her!”