A/N: Thanks again for your continual support and please forgive all my errors. Standard disclaimer: I own nothing or I only own up to the mistakes...Double Update because I split the previous chapter into two parts...

Seven

Unfortunately for her, Gina's first friendly conversations with Ricky and Kourtney were quickly over as soon as she walked into her third period class of the day filled with so-called snitch haters. There seemed to be more frowns thrown her way than blatant hostile stares, so maybe it wasn't as bad as the first class. Maybe this would be a step in the right direction.

She had to make a stop at her locker before heading to her class, and she had to wait while the custodian was cleaning the spray paint off it. She didn't want to be late for her next class and have all eyes on her, so she decided to keep everything with her. Ricky had looked on curiously, then, realizing what was on her locker began to frown. He dropped her off at her classroom and quickly left as though he'd made a horrible mistake in being nice to her.

She could hardly blame him.

As soon as she entered her class, she handed the teacher her schedule and then sat in an empty seat between a girl in full gang apparel who could probably kill her with her pinkie, and a guy dressed much the same way, who would look on with delight as she did so. She decided to not make eye contact and busied herself by taking out a notebook and a pen.

A knock sounded at the door immediately after the bell rang. Gina stiffened, praying the principal wasn't coming to speak to her again. The teacher, a woman, answered the door and spoke quietly, but Gina couldn't see with whom.

The girl turned around to her and raised her chin. "Hey," she said, her expression both amiable and curious. "What's your name?"

"Gina."

"Right you are the sheriff's daughter aka the snitch." She said it with a friendly giggle, and Gina couldn't help but smile.

The kid behind her laughed, too.

"I'm Natalie, but everyone calls me Nat. And he's Carlos." She gestured to the kid in the back.

"And everyone calls me Carlos," he said, leaning forward to take her hand.

They shook as a brunette from the next row leaned over and whispered to Nat.

"Really?" Nat said. She turned to Carlos. "They're looking for that red haired girl who wears glasses."

"No way? What'd she do?"

Before Nat could answer, the teacher closed the door and walked to her desk.

"Welcome back, guys. I hope Santa was good to you because you were nice and not naughty."

Some of her classmates nodded. Some shrugged. Most ignored her.

"Class, today we have a brand new student."

Gina froze in disbelief.

"This is Regina Porter," she said, gesturing in her general direction. "I'd appreciate you all being on your best behavior and welcome her here to LSH."

A wave of heat washed over her.

"Why?" someone asked. "She'll figure out the truth soon enough. This school sucks."

The class erupted. Well, most of the class. A couple of the students were still in evil glare mode, but oddly enough, when Nat turned to them, they suddenly find somewhere else to look.

Gina considered asking if Nat would be her bestie but figured it was too soon. She didn't want to come across as the desperate newbie she was. And besides, she already had a brand-new bestie, even though she had yet to see Ashlyn there at school. The girl she'd met over winter break. The girl who wore braids and glasses.

Concern itched the back of her neck, and she used her inhaler again just in case. Why would they be looking for Ashlyn? She was too sweet and seemed like a good person to have done anything wrong.

As class went on, Gina heard more and more of the whispers that were whispered across the room. They were looking for a girl. A girl named Ashlyn. The principal was going from room to room. That's who was at the door, the principal, asking if their teacher had seen her. She wasn't in trouble. No, she was in trouble. She had run away. She'd been abducted. She was last seen at the park. She was last seen walking north. They'd put out an Amber Alert. She could be dead.

By the time class was wrapping up, Gina knew only one thing for certain. Ashlyn Caswell was missing.

Risking her phone privileges, Gina took out her cell, angled it away from the teacher's line of sight, and texted her mom. "911. A girl is missing? Mom, I know her. What's going on?"

Then she palmed the phone and waited as panic slowly took hold.

The second the bell rang, and she hurried to the bathroom to call her mom. She locked the stall and dialed her mom's cell.

"Hey Baby girl." Her mom said and Hunter was quick to ask: So, you know Ashlyn?"

"Yes, I met her at the lake on New Year's. She was supposed to meet me this morning. What's going on? Is she okay?" The tardy bell for fourth period rang.

"Where are you calling from?"

"The restroom."

"Are you supposed to be in class?"

"Yes."

"You really are living the WWGGD life. I never had the nerve to skip my first day, but you do you boo."

"Mom. Please tell me about Ashlyn."

"I don't know much, love. But what I can tell you has to stay between us."

"Of course," she said, the statement dripping with duh.

"Ashlyn's mother reported her missing, but we have yet to find any signs of an abduction. Did she say anything to you in the last few days?"

Gina thought back. "I don't know. She said a couple of things that were odd, but I just thought she was like me and saw the world differently."

"Nobody is like you, you are an original," Hunter said.

She smiled.

"What exactly did she say to you?" her mom asked.

"Before Hunter showed up and stole the beer—"

"Excuse me."

"—we made plans to meet in the front of the school on my first day, but then she said her birthday was coming up and that she really liked me but we wouldn't have much time, and she hoped I would forgive her." Her mom didn't say anything, so she gave her a moment before coaxing her with, "Mom? What does all of this mean?"

"I don't know, Gina. I wish I did."

"Mercedes Porter," Gina said, letting her mom know she was serious. "What aren't you telling me?"

"That you're too smart for your own good? And that's Miss Mercedes or Mother Supreme to you."

"Mom!"

Hunter spoke up. "It's just that Mrs. Caswell was saying something similar. In her words it was 'we were running out of time'."

"Like she knew something about her birthday," Gina said, thinking out loud.

"Gina, I'm pulling into the station. You better quickly get to your class."

"I will. Promise that you will keep me updated?"

"I will, sweetheart. Hey, how's your day going?"

"Aside from missing the one and only friend I made? As expected." She hung up the phone before her mom could ask any more questions.

"As expected." Cedes looked at Hunter after Gina hung up. "She is definitely not having a good day."

"Damn it. I hate to hear that, poor kid."

"Maybe the snitch thing is worse than I thought."

"Or the kids are a bunch of dickheads."

Leave it to Hunter to say something crass. Single people without children really didn't understand parenting a teen. They exited the vehicle and examined an official-looking car parked beside them.

"I bet that's the feds' ride," Hunter said, distaste evident in his tone.

Cedes tried not to laugh. "Have you ever even met a marshal before?"

"Yes."

She raised her brows.

"No. But still."

They walked into the building, having to go through two electronic checkpoints. "So, who do you think the Lit Chicks want to kill?"

"Uh, the former sheriff. Duh."

Surprised, she stopped at the last door and turned to him. "How do you know that?"

"Because he's the biggest dick in town. Why do you think you're here and he's not?"

"But why? What did he do to them?"

"Well, he's Lillian's godson."

Okay, that she didn't know. She also didn't know the poor woman could get drunk on grape juice and had a pretty serious case of dementia, if her inability to remember Hunter was any indication. "And?"

"He's trying to get control of her estate because she never married and had kids, so he is her heir."

"Lillian's estate? How big can it be? She was the school's choir director for goodness sake."

He leaned against the wall. "I don't know if you know this, but those Lit Chicks went in together and invested in a little company a few decades ago."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Which little company?"

"Well, I'll give you a hint. Their logo is a red fruit."

"Oh, my Lord."

He opened the door for her. "Yeah."

She stopped him again. "Wait, even my mom?"

"Your mom and dad invested first, then the Lit Chicks pooled their resources when they saw how well your parents did and bought in pretty early, too."

"How do you know this and I don't?"

"Because I used to work for the former sheriff. You hear things."

"So, are they all rich?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Let's just say they won't be hurting for money any time soon."

"Wow. Who knew?"

Hunter and Cedes walked into the station like they owned the place, Hunter because he could and Cedes because she was ready to take on the marshals. At least she was until she saw them.

Or, well, him.

"Sheriff Porter." A slim Asian woman with black hair, large eyes, and beautiful skin walked up with her hand extended.

Beside her stood her gorgeous black male counterpart with hair as dark as midnight and a startlingly attractive face.

Cedes took the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you. This is Chief Deputy Hunter Clarington."

She shook both their hands. "Nice to meet you. I'm Deputy Marshal Shoshandra Rabara. This is my partner, Deputy Marshal Matthew Rutherford. Hopefully, we'll be able to leave Lima Springs as soon as possible." When Cedes looked in her office, more specifically at the box sitting on her desk, Marshal Rabara laughed. "Don't worry. We aren't taking over your office. Do you mind?"

She gestured toward Cedes' office, the one she hadn't even unpacked yet, and started toward it.

"I'm sure you're aware that the state pen recently lost a few prisoners," she said when Hunter closed the door behind him.

Rutherford took the box off her desk and sat it on a shelf while they spoke.

Cedes nodded, taking her chair. "I am. Seven inmates took over a transport van and put the guards in the hospital. Six of the fugitives have been recovered."

"Exactly." She handed a file to Cedes and sat in one of the visitor chairs someone had supplied since that morning. The label on it read Martinez, Ramon followed by his inmate number. "We received a call from one of your residents." She scanned her notes. "A Gunther Williams."

Hunter, who'd leaned against a wall by the window, coughed softly into a closed fist.

"Yeah," Cedes said, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Gunther isn't exactly the best witness in these types of situations."

"We figured that out over the phone," Rutherford said, offering Cedes a humorous smile. "But his description was spot-on."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "And you're certain he didn't just see Martinez on television?"

Rabara handed her a photo. "This is the picture we have streaming."

The police photograph showed a kid in his early twenties. Shaved head. Slightly crooked nose, probably broken at some point. And every available inch of skin on his arms and hands covered in tats.

"Okay," she said, waiting for the rest.

"That was taken when he was first arrested." She handed her a second photo. "This is his latest photo, compliments of the state pen."

Same face, though thinner. Harder. His hair was a little longer, and he sported a scar that sliced perpendicular through his right eyebrow as well as a couple more tats, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible mere seconds ago.

"And Gunther knew about the scar?"

The marshal nodded. "He described it perfectly. Said he saw him by the lake."

Her lake? That was disconcerting.

"We just can't figure out why he's here," Rutherford said.

Rabara confirmed with a nod. "There is a Martinez family in the area, but they don't seem to be related. If someone is helping him, it's not a blood relative. Not that we know of, anyway."

"Any known associates in the area?" Hunter asked.

"None that we can find."

"Can I keep these?" Cedes asked, handing the photos to Hunter.

Rabara nodded. "Of course. We just wanted to check in, see if you'd received any reports of sightings or anything unusual."

"Not that I know of, but I've only been on the job for a little over three hours."

"You've had a busy morning, it appears," Rutherford said.

"Yes, I have."

"The missing girl," Rabara said. "Any chance our guy took her and is holding her hostage?"

Cedes had considered that the minute they'd shown up at her station. If Ashlyn were taken from her room, Martinez would've had to case the house. He would've known about Ashlyn and how to get past the Caswells' extensive security system. Since his file said he'd been in prison for three years of a seven-year sentence, she doubted he'd know how to disable a latest-and-greatest, top-of-the-line security system.

If he'd been hanging out by the lake, however, he could have formed a connection with Ashlyn. Become friends. Lured her out of her home and convinced her to meet him somewhere.

"However unlikely, it certainly can't be ruled out," she said. "This says he was in prison for armed robbery. No assaults of any kind?"

Both marshals shook their heads, but Rutherford made a good point. "Desperate men tend to do desperate things."

"That they do." Mercedes would be a fool to ignore this turn of events.

The marshals stood to leave. Cedes walked them out the side entrance.

Rabara shook her hand again. "We'll talk to Gunther first, then we have an appointment with the parks and rec officer. We're hoping he's seen Martinez in the area. We'll keep you apprised either way."

"I appreciate it."

"Any good places around here to eat at?" Rutherford asked before leaving.

Cedes named off a few. That was a perk of living here as a child, she knew all the good places to eat and which to avoid.

The marshal handed her his card. "Please call me if you get hungry and decide that you want to join us."

"Thank you," she said, more than a little flattered.

He took her hand and held it a little longer than necessary. Cedes let him, then ended up cursing herself after they'd gone. She hadn't dated in over two years. Her ex Shane told her that apparently, she has commitment issues. Either way, now was certainly not the time to try to resuscitate her love life.

"So," Hunter said from behind her, catching her ogling the deputy marshal, "he really seems into you. Please call me if you get hungry and decide that you want to join us," he mimicked Rutherford.

"Shut the hell up, Hunt."

Just as Cedes sat at her desk, the same desk she had yet to organize, Dani walked in, her eyes wide and her face pale. In her gloved hands was an envelope. A purple one.

"Dani, what's that?" Cedes asked, standing up feeling a chill go down her spine.

The look on her face convinced Hunter to rush to her, but he stopped when he looked at the envelope. "Why is it addressed to you, Cedes?"

"It's a letter from the missing girl," Dani said, moving her fingers so Cedes and Hunter could see the return address. "Ashlyn Caswell."

All of the deputies in the office gathered around her desk as Cedes carefully pried open the envelope with gloved hands and a letter opener. According to the postmark, it had been mailed only the day before. The handwritten address, with its neat script and rounded letters, suggested it was indeed from a girl. A young girl.

She slid the opener under the flap, cut along the top, and lifted the parchment out.

Hunter slipped the envelope into an evidence bag and sealed it for processing.

Cedes unfolded the letter and scanned it. Then she looked at it again before reading it aloud. But only after a quick, confused glance at Hunt.

"The letter is dated two days ago. It was only postmarked yesterday," she said.

Hunter moved in closer for a better view. "So, she wrote it Saturday, but she didn't get a chance to mail it until Monday?"

"Could be. It's addressed to me in care of the station, and it just happens to arrive on my first day at work?"

"Well, she did meet your daughter," Jay said. "So, she probably knows who you are."

"Right, but it gets even weirder," Cedes told them and proceeded to read the letter: "Dear Sheriff Porter, by the time you read this letter, I will be gone, but I'm not dead. Not yet."

She looked quickly at Hunter before continuing. His face was revealing his apprehension.

"You will have three days to find me," she continued. "If you don't find me by this time, it will be too late."

"What in the hell?" Hunt said, his voice soft with confusion not anger.

Abrams straightened and stepped back as though not sure what to think. As though not wanting to be a part of this. "Is this a joke?" he asked, just as confused as Cedes.

"If it is a joke," Jay said, "it's not a very funny one."

"I agree with Jay." Cedes kept reading, trying to analyze the strokes of the writing at the same time. As the letter continued, the signs of stress increased. The writing became heavier, like the writer was pressing down harder and harder. And the points became sharper. "I know this is going to sound crazy. Not even my parents believe me, but when I was six years old, I had a vision, for lack of a better word. It's the only one I've ever had, but it was very vivid, and I knew the minute I had it, it was real.

"It began as a voice. I was standing in our backyard in Salt Lake City and a presence told me I would be abducted three days before my fifteenth birthday. Someone would keep me in a dark place, and then the stranger would kill me on the day I turned fifteen."

"What does she mean?" Abrams asked. "What kind of presence tells a child this at six years old?"

"That night," Cedes continued reading, ignoring him, "I also dreamed about the abduction, and I've had the same dream several times a year ever since. In my dream, I am taken by a man I don't know. I try to fight him, but I can't. For some reason, my arms and legs feel like they're made of sand. No matter how hard I try, I can't make them work right."

Cedes paused to catch her breath as a wave of anxiety washed over her.

"We've all had dreams like this," Dani said.

"More like nightmares." McCarthy, clearly buying into every word, shivered.

Fighting to keep her distress to herself, Cedes continued, "For some reason my birthday is very important to him. I don't know why, but he wants me to die on the day I was born. When my parents told me we were moving to California, I was so happy. I hoped that by moving to Lima Springs, the threat would go away. Instead, the dreams have been getting stronger. I started keeping a diary, hoping to get new clues, but I really only see the same thing over and over again. There was a lot of snow, trees, and rocks. I wake up once when he's carrying me, and that's what I see, so I think he's keeping me somewhere in the mountains. I wish I could see his face more clearly, but I can't because I'm blindfolded most of the time, and I can't focus clearly when I'm not. All I can tell you is that he is thin but strong, probably around my height or a little taller, and he has dark hair, but he is white. And I think he will have a scratch on him when you find him because somehow I remember scratching him, so if you ever find my body, be sure to check under my nails for his DNA. I'm sorry, I don't mean to overshare, but you need to know this isn't sexual. He never touches me in that way, but he does call me Ash. Like my dad. Like he has a right to call me by my nickname. I can also hear water underneath me. He keeps me in a small room like a shed, and it's very cold, and I think I'm going to die from hypothermia, but I don't. I don't die until he strangles me on my birthday. I fight him with all I have, but he always wins because nothing on my body works right and everything moves in slow motion."

Cedes' vision blurred while reading the next line.

"I don't give in easy, so it takes me a long time to die."

She stopped when she realized she was shaking visibly. Hunter knelt down beside her, but she pulled away from him, fighting the sting at the backs of her eyes like a mixed martial arts fighter in a championship match. Her private battles were not something her deputies needed ever to see.

After clearing her throat, she read the last paragraph.

"Please don't be sad if you don't find me in time. According to my dream, you don't. Nobody ever finds me in time. And I doubt anything I do now will change that, no matter what you do. But I'd be stupid not to try, I guess.

"Yours truly, Ashlyn Caswell

"P.S. Please thank your daughter Gina for being my friend for a whole week. I've never known anyone like her. We were hoping we would have at least one class together, like first period, but just in case we didn't, we came up with a way to pass notes to each other like spies sending secret messages. Maybe we can still do that someday. I really hope she liked me as much as I liked her."

Cedes was having trouble breathing after she finished the last words of the letter. It took her a few moments before she could center herself and regulate her breaths. She couldn't stop reading the words over and over again as her deputies stood or paced or stared at the floor, waiting for her to take the lead. Waiting for orders. Some way to make sense of the letter and the sheriff's reaction to it.

"Are we really taking this letter seriously?" Abrams asked, breaking first. "I mean, doesn't this prove that it's a stunt? No one can predict something like this. Ashlyn Caswell is probably at her boyfriend's house eating junk food and bingeing on Netflix."

"We have no choice but to take it seriously, Abrams. Stunt or not, it's evidence." Hunter said.

"I find it weird that Debbie said something similar," Cedes said at last. "She kept saying we were running out of time. We had to hurry. Maybe now, she really does believe her daughter, after all."

"Do we take this letter seriously?" Hunt asked her, his voice filled with concern not about the contents but its effect on Cedes.

She took a minute to take a deep breath before replying. "It's really too early to tell whether we should or not. After the donuts from this morning, I am not leaving anything to chance. I need for you to make a few copies of this. And we will bring the original with us."

"With us where?"

"We're going back to the Caswell's home to talk to Debbie. I have a few more questions that I need to ask her."

Since Hunter was the only other person wearing gloves, she handed the letter to him and then made her way to the restroom before everything in her stomach came out in heaves and groans. She could no longer hide the effect of the letter's content on her soul.