Sarah woke up to the sound of water.
Not waves crashing.
Not loud.
Just the steady, rhythmic brushing of lake water against something wooden.
Dock posts.
Her eyes opened slowly.
The air smelled like pine and damp wood.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't think.
Then memory rushed back as ice water poured down her spine.
The waterfront.
The message.
The hand on her arm.
That voice.
Her heart began to pound violently.
She tried to sit up—
And realized her wrists were tied.
Not painfully.
But securely.
Rope.
She swallowed hard.
The room was small. Wooden walls. One narrow window across from her. Curtains half drawn. Late afternoon light filtered through in thin golden lines.
A cabin.
She forced herself to breathe slowly.
Panic would get her nowhere.
The door creaked open.
He stepped inside.
Jay.
Only now, without the sunglasses and hat.
He looked almost the same as he had two years ago.
Maybe thinner.
Maybe sharper.
But his eyes—
His eyes were the same.
Possessive.
Certain.
Delusional.
"You're awake," he said softly.
Like they were meeting for coffee.
Sarah's throat felt dry. "You can't do this."
He tilted his head slightly, almost confused. "Do what?"
"Kidnap me."
A faint smile touched his lips. "That's such an ugly word."
He stepped closer.
She stiffened.
"You wouldn't answer me," he continued. "You kept running. Blocking. Ignoring. I told you that doesn't work with me."
"You're insane," she whispered.
His expression darkened for just a flicker.
"I came for you," he said quietly. "Because I love you."
Love.
The word made her stomach turn.
"You scared me," she said carefully, forcing her voice steady. "At the waterfront."
His eyes studied her.
"You were always dramatic," he said.
He crouched down in front of her.
"I didn't hurt you. Did I?"
She shook her head slowly.
Because he hadn't.
He had been careful.
Too careful.
He wasn't operating on impulse.
This was planned.
"How long?" she asked.
"How long what?"
"How long have you been watching me?"
His smile returned.
"Long enough."
A chill ran through her.
The sound of water brushed against the dock again.
Steady.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"You can't keep me here forever," she said.
He leaned in slightly.
"I don't need forever."
That frightened her more than anything.
Present Day
Brian stared at the board in front of him.
Sarah Johnson.
Age 22.
Missing 72 hours.
Suspect: Jay —— Last name unknown.
Digital footprint is inconsistent.
Phone numbers untraceable.
He circled the word inconsistent three times.
Jack walked into the bullpen carrying a folder.
"Domestic violence case," he said. "They're assigning it to me. Looks messy."
Brian glanced up. "You're off the Johnson case?"
"For now," Jack replied. "Captain wants this one handled quickly."
Convenient.
Brian watched him carefully.
"Anything new on your end?" Jack asked casually.
"Still digging," Brian said. "Ex-boyfriend's slippery."
Jack nodded once. "They usually are."
Their eyes held for just a second too long.
Then Jack walked away.
Brian exhaled slowly.
Something wasn't sitting right.
Jay had accessed Sarah's new number.
He knew about the trip.
He knew details not publicly listed.
That kind of access required effort.
Or connections.
Brian pulled Sarah's call records again.
Blocked numbers.
Unknown pings.
One brief signal drop at the Landing before her phone went dead.
He leaned back in his chair.
No ransom.
Nobody.
No struggle.
This wasn't random.
This was controlled.
Cabin – Later That Night
Sarah listened carefully as Jay moved around the cabin.
She cataloged everything.
Footsteps.
Door hinges.
The sound of a deadbolt.
The scrape of something heavy being dragged outside.
He untied her wrists earlier but warned her.
"Don't test me."
She hadn't.
Not yet.
He had brought her food.
Water.
A blanket.
Like this was some twisted retreat.
She studied him every time he entered the room.
Looking for weaknesses.
Patterns.
Routine.
He locked the bedroom door from the outside at night.
She tested the window once he left.
It was nailed shut.
But not professionally.
One nail is slightly bent.
Noted.
She sat back down on the edge of the bed.
"You can't hide me forever," she called out calmly.
His footsteps stopped in the other room.
Silence.
Then his voice.
"I don't need to hide you."
The way he said it made her blood run cold.
Back at the Station
Molly sat across from Brian's desk again.
She looked exhausted.
But different.
Focused.
"I went through her laptop," she said. "There were deleted messages."
Brian leaned forward. "From Jay?"
"I think so. Different accounts. Fake names. Same tone."
She handed him printed screenshots.
He scanned them.
Possessive language.
Tracking references.
Mentions of "access."
One line stood out.
You'd be surprised who can look up information these days.
Brian's jaw tightened slightly.
"Did she ever mention anyone helping him?" he asked carefully.
"No," Molly said. "But how else would he get her number?"
That question lingered heavily between them.
Brian chose his next words carefully.
"Sometimes people use third-party data brokers," he said evenly. "It's not always personal connections."
But inside, a different thought was forming.
Who in this department has database access?
Who could run a background check quietly?
Who reacted strangely when her name was mentioned?
He couldn't accuse Jack without proof.
Not yet.
If he were wrong, it would destroy everything.
If he was right—
It would be worse.
Cabin – Midnight
Sarah lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She heard him moving again.
Outside.
The faint sound of boots on gravel.
Then water.
He was near the dock.
Maybe checking something.
Maybe securing something.
Maybe—
She sat up slowly.
Walked to the window.
Pressed her ear near the glass.
Lake.
Wind.
Movement.
If she could get out of the room…
If she could reach the dock…
If she could find something sharp—
The door handle rattled suddenly.
She jumped back.
The door opened.
Jay stood there.
Watching her.
"You're thinking too loud," he said softly.
Her heart pounded in her throat.
"You don't trust me," he added.
"Should I?" she asked.
He stepped inside.
And locked the door behind him.