I was thirteen years old, my seven-year-old brother disappeared. At first, my parents thought heâd been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. We were rather wealthy back then. My father owned a large mortgage banking company. So they waited for a phone call. It never came. Then the bodies of young boys stared popping up about fifty miles away from where we lived in Chicago. The police were convinced the same serial killer took Ryan, even though his body was never recovered. My father believes heâs dead. That was almost ten years ago. For years after he went missing, I woke up with nightmares. Terrible dreams where he was calling to me, and I was trying to find him.â
âNo one ever mentioned this at work,â Zac said, his voice heavy with skepticism. âSeems something like that would be common knowledge at a news station.â
âEd knows. I told him when I first came to work at KDSM. Heâs never revealed the truth to anyone. When I got out of college, I changed my name from Emily Erwin to Wynter Evans. I got a new name because . . . well, I needed a fresh start. A new identity. I didnât want to be known as the girl whose brother was kidnapped. Can you understand that?â
âI guess. But what does that have to do with Sanctuary?â
âI . . . I saw a picture, Zac. Of a young man who looks a lot like Ryan. Heâs here. In Sanctuary.â I held my hands up as a sign of surrender. âItâs very possible Iâm deluding myself. Everyone else gave up on Ryan years ago. But I . . . I just canât. I still have those dreams. I still hear him calling me. How can I ignore that?â
âWow.â Zacâs normally insolent expression softened. âYou said your father gave up on your brother. What about your mother?â
âWe donât talk to her about Ryan. She had a breakdown afterhe went missing. My father couldnât deal with it, and they split up. Losing Ryan destroyed my family. My father and I rarely speak, and my mother . . . well, weâre close, but itâs not the same. Sheâs better now, but when weâre together, it feels like someoneâs missing. We remind each other of Ryan, I guess.â
âI-Iâm sorry, Wynter. I had no idea.â
âI appreciate that. But now I need the truth from you. Why did you take those pictures and send them to the station?â
He sighed. âBecause Iâm a selfish idiot.â He stood up and walked over to the window behind us. âMissy Spencer told me that if I ruined this story for you, sheâd make sure I got all the plush assignments at the station. I took those pictures yesterday, sent them to the station and then called and asked them to copy the library so weâd know they received them.â
âI canât believe youâd actually do something like that.â
He turned back toward me. âWell, believe it. Missy knows youâre being considered for the anchor chair. She wanted to knock you out of the running. She figured if you blew this story, sheâd become Edâs first choice.â
âI knew she hated me, but I had no idea sheâd go to these lengths.â
Zac came over and sat down again. âI should have told her to take a hike, but it seemed like a smart career move. Somehow, I lost sight of the fact that youâre a human being with feelings and . . . problems.â He shook his head. âYou may not believe this, but I was raised to care about people. My mother . . .â He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. After a deep sigh he said, âMy mother is a Christian. She tried to teach me to put other people first. Guess I didnât listen.â
âBut you said you hated being around religious people.â
âItâs a long story, and this isnât the time for it. The important thing is that weâre finally being
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