Will was in the kitchen, standing before the open fridge eyeing the accumulated leftover takeout containers and trying to muster something like an appetite.
Five days. They hadn't spent it idly. While the boffins had been busy combing the internet for every digital trace of Martin they could find, the rest of them had hit the streets, sweeping the area from the Columbia campus outward with necessary but excruciating slowness, detouring occasionally to scope out places pinged by the web hunt.
They hadn't been idle. Just useless. And every hour their search plodded along was another hour Clio spent shackled, starving, trapped. And that was at a baseline. The longer they took, the more chance there was of Martin escalating.
No prizes for guessing where his appetite had gone.
Patrick's shout was a bolt down his spine. Will was out of the kitchen before the fridge had slammed fully shut. "What happened? It's her? What's she saying?"