One thought simultaneously heartened and chilled me. If the man I'd noticed earlier had taken my niece, this likely was no random abduction. Far more probable was that Carly had been targeted by a man named Bo Wilder. If Wilder had ordered this, it was to send a message, either to my brother Teddy or to me. Wilder had no reason to hurt Carly. Not unless one of us had given him one. Whenever I passed an usher or security guard I shouted my alarm about a lost girl. I'd run a near-complete circle of the stadium before my phone vibrated. It was Teddy. "We found her," he said. "A guy brought her back." I slowed to a walk, but only for a moment. Then I began to jog again. I arrived at our section and slowed, trying to look casual as I came down the stairs, my hard breathing reminding me how long it'd been since I'd ridden my bike. The man with the prison muscles was there. Carly stood looking down at a little green-shirted mascot doll he must have bought for her. I came down the steps behind them and grabbed the guy's arm. He turned, his smile betraying no sign of the pressure I was exerting just above his massive triceps, his arm as thick around as the leg of a sedentary man, his head shaved bald. I pulled out my cell phone and suggested that Carly pose for a picture with the man. His expression didn't fade as I snapped a series of shots. His hand remained on Carly's shoulder, but his eyes never left my face. Excerpted from Wolf's Revenge by Lachlan Smith All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
