Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Just in case her son’s adoptive family had moved, she did a more general Google search, looking for missing boys who’d been taken recently and fit her son’s description. But after scrolling through a few that looked like possibilities, she found nothing.
Her heart rate slowed, and she blew out a long breath as she sat back.
She felt mildly better and more assured that this was a sick prank for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, but the worry didn’t evaporate completely. What if her son had been taken very recently—like within the last hour—and he hadn’t even been reported missing yet? Was it possible that some kidnapper somewhere knew she was his mother and thought they still had the money they’d once had? Would a ransom be forthcoming? Her dad was retired now, yet still well off, but Cami herself had very little in the bank.
But how would someone know she was related to this child, if in fact she was? It’d been a completely closed adoption. Even she wasn’t supposed to know where her son’s adoptive parents lived, but she’d accidentally seen the location in the family’s file when she was being shown photos. That information was another reason she’d chosen them—it would save her from the pain of wondering if she’d run into her son someday. It was easier for her to know he was well loved and cared for, but far enough away that she wouldn’t have to wonder if every little boy she saw with Hollis’s smile or her hair color was the baby she’d given away.
She picked up her phone and looked at the text log, noting that twenty-eight minutes had passed since the photo had come through. She sat there, her nerves firing up again as she waited. Her knee bounced, and she chewed at her thumbnail. Two minutes passed, and her phone didn’t ring.
A prank. It was just a prank. She had questions, and she’d definitely call the authorities, but—
Her phone screen lit up with a call. “Shit,” she said under her breath. Yet another unknown number. She picked her phone up and swiped the screen. “H-hello?”
“Are you ready to agree to a do-over?”
“I don’t understand what that means. I don’t understand what this is.” What was she agreeing to? What kind of do-over? What had she done once that she was being given the opportunity to do again? This was whacked. She heard the sound of something in the background that sounded like soft, wheezy breathing as though the caller were related to Darth Vader. And maybe the pure ridiculousness of that visual was the thing that caused her to say, “Sure, I agree. I’d like a do-over. What am I doing over?”
“You will receive a link to a video and, using that footage, you are invited to locate the child. If you fail to find him in four days, he will be given to other interested parties who, shall we say, do not have his best interests at heart. Again, do not call the police. If you do, the video will be removed, and you will not hear from me again. If you log in on more than one device, the video will be removed.”
Cami’s head buzzed and her thoughts were disjointed as she tried to make sense of what was nonsensical. And even despite her confusion, dread continued to descend. “I . . . yes, I’ll be sent a video . . . to use to find a child in . . . four days? He’s at risk. Only log in on one device, and no police.”
The caller let out a slow exhale that again sounded tinny and overly breathy in some strange way. “The video is being shared via SecureDrop. You will need to download a browser called Tore to access it. Repeat that, please.”
Cami ran to the kitchen and fumbled around in her junk drawer for a pen and pad, writing down the sites as she said them. “SecureDrop. Tore.” She’d vaguely heard of SecureDrop, but what the hell was Tore?
“Good luck.” And with that, the call went dead.
Cami’s head continued to buzz, and her face felt hot. She didn’t comprehend what was happening, but she knew it was something terrible.
A few seconds later, another text came in, and when she opened it, she saw that it contained a number of letters and symbols that was not clickable.
Cami returned to her laptop and did a search on Tore, which actually ended up being Tor, and was, she discovered, the browser necessary to access the dark web.
Her stomach tightened, and she swallowed. She’d heard of the dark web in passing, but she hadn’t realized it was a real thing. Was it even legal to enter sites there? She didn’t know, but if the FBI showed up on her doorstep, she’d have a pretty decent reason—she hoped—for explaining why she’d been there.