THE POLICE DOG PINNED A CRYING 7-YEAR-OLD GIRL TO THE GROUND—THEN SHE WHISPERED SIX WORDS THAT MADE HIS OFFICER TURN PALE…

The abandoned rail yard was a graveyard of rusting train cars and overgrown weeds on the edge of the city limits.

I parked the cruiser a half-mile away, hiding it beneath the overpass. The rain had started to fall in heavy, freezing sheets.

I knelt down in the mud, looking into Shadow’s intelligent brown eyes. I pulled a small, pink fabric strap from my pocket. It was the keychain that had fallen off Ava’s backpack during the scuffle in the park earlier that day.

“Find her,” I whispered, holding it to his nose. “Find the girl.”

Shadow inhaled deeply, his body going rigid. He lowered his snout to the wet ground and began to pull me forward into the darkness.

We moved silently through the maze of abandoned boxcars. The only sound was the rain hitting the metal roofs and the crunch of gravel beneath my boots. My service weapon was drawn, slick with rain in my grip.

As we rounded a rusted cargo car, Shadow stopped. He didn't bark. He just pointed his nose toward a dilapidated maintenance shed at the center of the yard.

A dim, yellow light flickered from the shed’s window.

I crept closer, pressing my back against the rotting wood of the shed wall. I risked a glance through the cracked glass.

Inside, Ava was sitting on a wooden crate, her knees pulled to her chest, shivering. Her pink backpack was on the floor beside her. Standing over her was Marcus Vance. He was pacing frantically, checking his phone, a loaded gun in his hand. He looked unhinged.

“Where is he?” Marcus muttered, dialing a number. I knew he was calling Reynolds. The phone went straight to voicemail.

“My grandma is going to call the police,” Ava said, her tiny voice trembling but brave.

Marcus let out a cruel laugh. “Kid, I am the police. Nobody is coming for you.”

My blood boiled. I moved toward the door, preparing to kick it in, when suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the darkness behind the shed.

Before I could react, a hand clamped over my mouth and a strong arm pulled me backward into the rain.

I spun around, bringing my gun up, ready to fire.

“Wait!” a voice rasped.

It was Elias Thorne. His face was covered in blood, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. He had survived the crash.

“Don't shoot,” Thorne coughed, leaning against the train car. “If you go in there shooting, Marcus will use her as a shield. I know him.”

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, lowering my weapon slightly.

“I promised Sarah I would keep her daughter safe,” Thorne breathed heavily. “Sarah was my little sister. When she found out what Marcus and Miller were doing, she came to me. I told her to get the evidence and run. But they caught her.”

A wave of realization washed over me. Thorne wasn't a stranger. He was Ava’s uncle. The real one.

“I have a plan,” Thorne whispered, pulling a flare from his jacket pocket. “I’ll draw him out. When he comes after me, you get Ava.”

“He’ll kill you, Elias.”

Thorne looked at me, a sad, determined smile on his face. “I let my sister down, Brooks. I am not failing her little girl.”

Before I could stop him, Thorne struck the flare. It erupted into a blinding red light, hissing loudly in the rain. He tossed it into the open doorway of the nearest boxcar and yelled, “Marcus!”

Inside the shed, Marcus whipped around. “Stay there!” he screamed at Ava, running out the door, his gun raised toward the red light.

“Now!” Thorne yelled to me, sprinting in the opposite direction to draw Marcus’s fire.

I burst into the shed.

Ava looked up, her eyes widening in pure shock.

“Officer Brooks!” she cried out.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I said, scooping her into my arms. Shadow stood guard at the door, his teeth bared into the darkness.