At midnight, the woman living next door called and said, “Your little girl is sitting out in the driveway, soaked by the rain and visibly traumatized.” My wife was ignoring my calls, my mother-in-law flatly declared, “SHE IS NOT OUR CONCERN ANYMORE,” and my six-year-old just kept murmuring, “Mommy promised you’d leave me behind.” I thought finding Chloe alive was the greatest relief... until my brother unearthed what someone had frantically tried to conceal inside my own home.

The rain had followed us to the coast, turning the sky over Astoria into a swirling mass of dark, violent clouds. The private marina was located on the edge of the Columbia River bar, a treacherous stretch of water surrounded by dense fog and jagged rocks.

Julian pulled the SUV off the main road, hiding it behind a rusted warehouse. He popped the trunk and pulled out two tactical vests and a pair of 9mm Glocks. I had never fired a gun at a person in my life, but as I checked the magazine, my hands, usually reserved for typing actuarial formulas, were perfectly steady.

"Two guards at the dock," Julian whispered, looking through a pair of binoculars. "Private security. Heavily armed. The yacht is idling at the end of Pier 4. She's getting ready to board."

I peered through the relentless rain. I could see her. Vanessa. She was wearing a sleek black trench coat, carrying a waterproof Pelican case—undoubtedly holding my life savings. She looked entirely unbothered, checking her watch as a deckhand secured a line.

"We can't just run up there; we'll get cut to ribbons," Julian said, assessing the tactical situation. "I'll flank right, take out the floodlights, and create a distraction. You loop around the fishing boats, come up behind the pier. When the shooting starts, you move in and grab her. Do not hesitate, Tommy. If she pulls a weapon, you put her down."

I nodded, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Julian vanished into the fog like a ghost. I took a deep breath, the smell of salt water and diesel fuel filling my lungs, and began my slow crawl across the slippery wooden docks. The water seeped into my boots, chilling me to the bone, but I kept my eyes locked on Pier 4.

Suddenly, a massive BOOM echoed across the marina. The primary floodlight exploded in a shower of sparks and glass, plunging the dock into darkness.

"Contact!" one of the guards yelled, raising an assault rifle and firing blindly into the fog where Julian had been.