The girl shrugged. “Isn’t that how it usually works? Jaded employee kidnaps boss’s girlfriend to get even.”

It was almost laughable, but he knew she was being serious.

“Marco was my dad’s driver,” he explained. “He’d been working for us for years. He was family.”

“Well, I hope you kill him,” Vi decided without missing a beat. “No offense, but he’s the reason Juliette is missing and possibly hurt. I don’t feel sorry for him at all.”

How different the sisters were, Killian thought, studying the girl. Juliette would have begged him to spare Marco’s life, to forgive and forget. Or maybe not so different. He remembered telling her about killing Yolvoski and she had accepted that without batting an eye. The woman was forever surprising him.

“Do you think we’ll find her?” Vi’s voice was small and housed all the insecurities and doubts Killian had been struggling with.

“Aye,” he answered without hesitation. “I won’t lose her.”

The third video arrived two days later. Killian stood at his desk, surrounded by Arlo’s men, his men, and Vi. A map of the city lay open across the cleared surface and lines had been drawn in thick, red marker.

The last place Marco had seen Juliette was an abandoned district on the outskirts of the city near the river. Its only inhabitants were the homeless, drug pushers, and the occasional strung out prostitutes. Marco hadn’t lied about there being no surveillance. Frank and the crew had returned with absolutely nothing to show for it.

“I have some men in that area,” Arlo stated. “I’ll make some calls and see if anyone saw a van around in the last couple of weeks.”

Killian nodded. “Tell them the van would have been heading east. West is blocked off after the bridge collapsed.”

“Well, that doesn’t really mean anything,” Vi piped in. “Boats can still pass through in the spring when the lake isn’t frozen.”

Killian looked at her. “Boats?”

The girl shrugged. “Why not? You can easily get a van down that incline to the waterline and then get on a boat.”

She had the attention of everyone in the room. A slight tinge of pink worked up into her cheeks, but she remained firm.

“À la française,” she said like it was supposed to mean something to any of them. “Really?” she snapped when no one seemed to know what she was talking about. “I am the youngest person here and I rarely even bother going to school.” When it became apparent that she would need to explain, she huffed loudly. “À la française is basically French Style or In French Style, which I personally don’t understand, but I guess it’s supposed to be romantic. It was that whole district.” She tapped the map where Killian had drawn a ring around the spot Marco had dropped Juliette off at. “Back in the day, when the bridge wasn’t a heap of scrap metal dumped into disgusting brown waters, à la française was like the New Orleans of the city. Parties every night, lots of sex, drugs, and midnight cruises across Harrison Lake. People would pay big bucks to get pampered and dine on one of the glamorous yachts. Around like the turn of the century or something, the bridge structure collapsed and the thing crumpled into the lake and the whole district was reduced to garbage and bums.”

“I remember something about that,” one of Arlo’s men pipped in. “Not so much the pampering, but a lot of the sections used to use the bridge to push their product. They would smuggle it to the water’s edge and…” He followed the blue gash of the Harrison up stream and stopped just where the lake branched off. “Unload around here. Caused a lot of turf wars.”

Arlo nodded. “That stopped when the bridge went down, cutting the lake in half and making it impossible to cross.”

“But you can still get around that,” Vi chimed up quickly. She snatched a pen out of the cup holder and bent over the map. “There’s an opening where the bridge ends meet the shore. Here.” She circled the spot and straightened. “You can easily walk through it to the other side. From there, it’s a ten minute walk to this really cute beach. It’s not really a beach, obviously, but it’s very romantic late at night when…” she trailed off when she glanced up and found everyone watching her. Her cheeks darkened. “Not that I’ve ever been there or anything.”

Killian stared at her, eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing Juliette doesn’t know about your … discovery?”

Vi faltered. “No…” She grimaced. “But aren’t you glad I never listen?”

Killian had to bite back his grin as he took his pen back and turned to the map. “If Viola is right, then there’s a good chance the van will still be there. We might be able to follow the path down the lake—”

“Oh my God!” Vi’s unexpected scream caused everyone to jump, including Killian, whose hand tightened around the pen as though anticipating an attack, which he got when Vi punched him in the arm. It was hard enough to make him wince. “Golden arches! Golden arches!” She grabbed his arm, the one she’d assaulted and shook him. “Arches!”

“Calm down, woman!” He dislodged himself. “What are you on about?”

“The bridge!” She smacked the map. “The bridge, originally, before it turned an ugly red and went into the river, had been painted yellow!”

“But that’s only one arch,” one of Arlo’s men piped in.

In no way did this deter Vi. “It’s still a golden fucking arch! And it’s winter!” she added hurriedly. “Which means the lake will be frozen so they can’t go anywhere.”

The first sliver of hope bloomed in Killian’s chest. It shot splinters across his entire being, thawing the shards of ice that had crystalized in his blood. He felt it working through his muscles and finally soaking into his heart. He would have laughed and hugged the girl if there hadn’t been an entire room of armed men watching the moment.

Instead, he put on his boss face and turned to the crew. “That’s where we’re going then,” Killian stated. “We’ll drive out immediately and—”

Frank jerked. His hand flew to his earpiece, as did Dominic and Aaron. Their faces went from confused to stunned in five full seconds. Eyes went to Frank, waiting for instructions.

“What?” Killian demanded as Frank lowered his hand, his face a subtle shade of white under the dark skin.

His throat muscles bobbed, but he straightened. “Excuse me, sir. There is a matter in the basement that requires your attention.”

It took Killian a second to realize what in the basement could possibly require his attention and have his men look like someone had died. His heart plummeted. He could feel it hitting the floor around his ankles, crushing every ounce of the hope he’d been basking in only mere seconds before.

“Are you sure?”

Frank nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Is there a problem?” Arlo cut in.

“No.” Killian turned to the group. “Have someone handle the situation in the basement until I return. In the meantime, we—”

A soft knock sounded on the doors of his office, turning all heads away from Killian to Jacob, whose face said it even before he lifted a hand and showed them the yellow envelope. And just like that, it didn’t feel like he would ever get a break. What spark of hope he’d been clinging on to after the news of Marco’s self-inflected death in the basement crashed into a pit of jagged rocks. Killian could feel himself dying a little inside, could feel his stomach rising up his chest. The weight crushed his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Beside him, Vi’s fingers tightened around his arm. The color washed from her face. Her eyes met his for the smallest of seconds and the terror in them matched the one clawing through him.

Frank went to get it. He brought it back to the table. Killian didn’t touch it and Frank didn’t offer it to him.

“If you gentlemen will please excuse us,” Frank told the group, taking charge when Killian couldn’t even remember his own name. “Please get yourselves ready for the trip out in about twenty.”