My mom disappeared when I was 12

a man in a black coat, sitting calmly in the corner chair, his face cast in shadow.

“You found the journal,” he says, his voice smooth, calm—too calm. “That was quicker than expected.”

“Who the hell are you?” I demand, backing toward the door.

“A friend of your mother’s. And if you want to survive the next twenty-four hours, you need to come with me. continue reading …