Because I was kidnapped as a child, my dad had a tracker embedded in my bracelet. That day, when I couldn’t find it, my dad called immediately: “Take nothing. Come downstairs immediately. Your brother is waiting in car…” – News

had wrapped it in professional-grade signal blocking material, a Faraday bag.

My fingertips started to turn icy.

Not the chill of a dropping temperature, but a deep seeping frost radiating from my bones.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

Caller ID, Dad.

I picked up.

“Chloe.”

My dad’s voice was incredibly heavy. So much so that I almost thought the connection continue reading …