“Ice cream truck again?”
“I really need to talk with that guy, ask him to come an hour later.”
Amy chuckled. “Or you could eat lunch earlier. Problem solved.”
“Except that if we ate earlier, you would not be able to join us.”
Amy felt a surge of warmth in her chest. “That’s so sweet.”
Melissa came running over. “Hi Amy. Did you bring us bread today?”
“I sure did.” She held up a white bag. “Wanna see?”
Melissa knelt beside Amy and peered in. “What is it?”
“Well it’s not pumpernickel, right? Because it’s not brown.”
“Then what kind is it?”
“Sourdough. A specialty of San Francisco.” Amy reached in and tore off a piece. “Try it.”
Melissa took it and bit into it—and made a face. But she kept chewing.
“What do you think?”
“I think I like it.”
Giselle dug around the picnic basket and handed out their sandwiches. Ten minutes later they were collecting their garbage.
“That was delicious,” Amy said.
“I don’t think—” Giselle was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “Oh. It is my aunt. From Germany. Do you mind?”
“Are you kidding? ’Course not.”
Giselle answered and listened a moment. “Oh my god. Ist sie in Ordnung?” She sat there, her gaze roaming the area.
“’Selle,” Melissa said. “Can I have ice cream now?”
Giselle, wearing concern on her face, glanced at Amy. “Can you?” She spoke into the phone then twisted the handset away from her mouth. “They took my grandmother to the hospital. Can you go buy Melissa some ice cream? I need to deal with this. I’ll pay you back.”
“Nonsense. Take care of your grandmother. I’ve got this covered.”
“C’mon,” Amy said, “let’s get you a strawberry cone.”
“Yay.” Melissa jumped up and clapped, then walked alongside Amy toward the truck. She reached over and took Amy’s hand—which was the best, and worst, thing she could have done.
Her eye began twitching. Tears started flowing. Her breath got short. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
As they approached the vendor, Melissa started running toward the truck. Amy arrived a few seconds later, in time for Melissa to face Amy and hold her arms up.
Amy hoisted her higher, onto her hip, so the girl could see inside.
“Strawberry cone.” Melissa said, eyes wide with anticipation.
The man pointed at her. “I know. Same thing every time. Strawberry cone, chocolate sprinkles.”
Melissa nodded.
Amy paid the man as Melissa stuck out her tongue and dug in. Amy walked past the truck, turned left, and headed in the direction of the bakery.
She was not sure where she was going or why, but twenty-five yards later she was standing in front of her car, just outside the parking lot.
“Where we going?” Melissa asked, pinkish red covering her lips, nose, and cheeks.
“Uh…nowhere, honey. I—I’m—I, uh…” She looked down and realized she had her keys in her hand. The doors unlocked and she was pulling open the rear door. “Let’s go for a quick ride around the lake. I can show you where there are lots of birds and ducks.”
“What about Giselle?”
“She had a very important phone call. We’ll come get her a little later.”
She put Melissa in the back and reached for the restraint.
“I don’t have my car seat.”
“Uh—right. I, uh, I know honey.”
But Amy did not know anything. She had no idea what she was doing. She was outside her body, watching from above. No control, no thoughts.
Swung the door shut, then ran around to the front of the car. Got in, turned the engine over, and yanked back on the gear shift.
16
Amy drove with no particular destination in mind.
She looked in the rearview mirror and saw her daughter—Lindy—years earlier, staring back at her.
“How’s the ice cream, honey?”
“Gooood.” A few seconds later: “Where are the birds?”
“Oh. The uh…the birds weren’t there yet.”
My god, what am I doing? I’m kidnapping a little girl. This is wrong. This is wrong. Head back to the lake. Turn around.
But she could not bring herself to stop. She continued in a straight line, down Bellevue.
Stop, Amy. Think. As soon as Giselle realizes you’re gone—with Melissa—she’s going to call the police.
And the police would figure out where she worked, what her name was, what car she drove. And then they would realize Loren was her sister-in-law and she would be called. Loren would call Zach.
Amy, what the hell are you doing? Turn around.
An APB would be put out on her car. An amber alert would be issued. And then everyone’s cell phone would ring a shrill alarm. The color of her beat-up Subaru, its model and license plate number, would be displayed.
She would be pulled over before she made it to the freeway.
How would Melissa take all this? Once she finished her cone, she would start asking questions. Where are we going? Why? Are we going home?
And Amy had no answers for her. Would she start crying? Would she willingly go along with her?
At the next red light, she pulled out her cell and paged to the settings menu, then found the ringer samples. She pressed one and it sang its tune.
Amy pushed the handset against her ear. “Hi Giselle. Oh, I’m so sorry. Yeah, Melissa and I are in the car, going for a ride. The zoo? Great idea. Okay, I’ll take her there. No, no, don’t worry about it. We’ll have a great time. Take care of your grandmother. I hope she feels better. I’ll call you later.”
She stuck the phone in her purse and looked up at the mirror. “Okay, honey. Giselle is still helping her grandmother so she wanted me to take you to the zoo. We’ll see all sorts of animals. Have you been to the zoo?”
“Once.”
“Once? Only once?”
“I like the animals. Elephants and the scary birds.”
“Scary birds? Like crows?”
“Like batman.”
“Oh, bats. Okay, we’ll go see the bats.”
“Yay!”
Yeah. Yay.
Amy glanced in the mirror again and saw the excitement on the girl’s face. Her daughter’s face.
Oh my god, what am I doing?
17
Brandon Ellis glanced at the iPad Angelo Lira was holding and nodded. “Okay, I’ll take it.”
“Good decision, Brandon.”
Ellis sat down at his desk and lifted the handset to answer the call on line two.
But as he reached for the button, his office door swung open and Giselle ran in, her hair a tangled mess, her face streaming with tears.
“Giselle.” Ellis set the phone down as he rose from his chair. “What’s wrong? Where’s Melissa? Is Melis—”
“I—I got a phone call. My grandmother’s taken ill, went to the hospital. I was talking to my aunt and—and—Amy said she’d help.”
“Who’s Amy?”
“A woman—a friend. She works at a bakery a few blocks from here, right near the lake.”
“Giselle,” Ellis said firmly. “Is Melissa okay?”
“I don’t—I don’t know. I lost her.”
“Lost? What the hell do you mean?”
“We have to call the police. When I started looking around for Amy and Melissa, I—I must have dropped my phone. I wanted to find someone who would call the police but I was so close I thought I should come right here instead.”
“No police,” Lira said.
Ellis turned. He had forgotten Lira was in the room.
Lira shook his head emphatically. “No police.”
“What are you talking about? My daughter’s gone missing.” Ellis swung back to Giselle. “Are you saying this Amy woman kidnapped my daughter?”
“No. Yes. I mean, I don’t know. She’s so nice. She would not kidnap her.”
“How well do you know her?” Lira asked.
Giselle started crying again. “We met a few days ago.”
“A few days ago? And you trusted her with my little girl?”
Giselle fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She looked up with a tear-stained face. “We have to call the police.”
“What does this Amy look like?” Lira asked.
“Blonde hair. I think you call it dirty blonde. About five foot nine. She’s thin. Blue eyes. Pretty.”
“You have her cell phone number?” Lira asked. “Home number?”
Giselle averted her gaze. “No.”
“Angelo,” Ellis said, “we’re wasting time. We’ve gotta call the cops.”
Lira handed her his business card. “You think of something—anything—call my cell. I don’t care what time it is. You call.”
“Okay. But—but what do I do now?”
“Go home and wait. We may have more questions for you.”
“But the police—”
“Go home, Giselle. We’ll call them. We’ll take care of everything from here.” Lira said it firmly, then shooed her away with his hand.
She backed out and closed the door behind her. Lira immediately pulled out his Pixel and started dialing.
Ellis realized Lira had touched too many numbers for 911. “Angelo, what the hell?”
He faced Ellis and held an index finger over his lips, then rotated the handset back to his mouth. “Bill Tait, please. Tell him it’s Angelo.” He waited a beat then said, “Bill. I need help with a situation…No, like right now. Immediately. And I want Mickey.” He recapped what they knew—and the situation surrounding the IPO. “Whoa. That’s kind of steep…No, no. I need him…Fine, I’ll pay it. How soon can he be here?” He listened a few seconds, then said, “Fine. Call me right back.”
“Angelo, what are you doing?”
“What needs to be done.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Lira frowned. “Look, I know you’re under a lot of stress and this is the last thing you need, but we’ll deal with it.”
Lira’s phone vibrated. He held up his left hand to keep Ellis quiet as he answered.
“Mickey. Been a while.” He listened, his gaze canting toward the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s the gist. When can you get here?” He closed his eyes. “Not fast enough. Go to Van Nuys airport. I’ll have the private jet fueled and ready.”
He hung up and dialed again. “Bruce, this is Angelo. I need a flight plan up to Oakland International. Twenty minutes. Can you do this for me?...Of course. I’ll make it worth your while.” He listened, then said, “Name’s Mickey Keller…Yeah, Mickey. Forgot you’ve met him. Thanks, buddy.”
Ellis’s face was flushed—he could feel it—and his entire torso was damp from perspiration. “Angelo. What the hell are you doing?”
“Got a guy flying up from LA. He’ll find her. I’m meeting him in ninety minutes.”
“Ninety minutes? No, no. Too long. I’m calling the cops. This is Melissa we’re talking about.”
“What’s going on?”
Ellis turned to see Christine standing in the threshold to the room. She closed the door behind her and marched in. “What’s the problem with Melissa?”
Lira and Ellis shared a look. Ellis was not sure what Lira was thinking but he, for one, did not want to tell Christine what had happened.
“Melissa’s gone missing from the lake,” Lira said. “She was last seen by a friend of Giselle’s. We think she’s safe—but we don’t know where she is.”
“Brandon.” Christine stepped closer to her husband. “How could you let this happen?”
“How could I let this happen? What are you talking about?”
“You hired Giselle. This is your fault.”
Lira held up a hand. “Look, you two can argue later. Right now I’ve got an expert on a private jet on his way from LA. He’ll be here soon and he’ll get Melissa back for us.”
“We need to call the police,” Ellis said, moving toward his desk.
“You can’t do that,” Christine said, grabbing his arm. “Are you crazy?”
Ellis yanked himself free. “Am I crazy?”
“You call the police and this will become a major news story,” Christine said. “We want to be in the news for the IPO, not a kidnapped little girl. We need to get people excited about investing in us. Billions are at stake.”
“Our daughter’s life could be at stake.”
“Brandon.” Christine shook her head, as if pitying her husband for being so stupid. “When a child goes missing, you know who the police suspect? The father. You’ll be interrogated, maybe even arrested. How will that play with investors? Wall Street will run as far away from LifeScreen as they can get—and they’ll never come back. Because once a suspect, always a suspect. Your career as a physician will be over—not to mention your career as a CEO. Everything you’ve worked for—everything, gone.”
They were all quiet.
“She’s right,” Lira finally said.
Ellis dropped into his chair. He closed his eyes. “How good is this ‘expert’ you’ve summoned?”
“The best.”
“Retired cop?”
“Mickey’s done it all. Decorated Special Forces. Purple Heart. Cop. Detective. Fixer. And some other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
Lira pursed his lips and shrugged. “He’s the right guy for the job. Maybe the only guy. That’s all you need to know.”
“Great,” Christine said as she turned and headed for the door. “Keep me posted.”
As it clicked closed, Ellis sat back in his leather chair. “This guy really that good? Or was that fluff for Christine?”
“He’s really that good. You want to check him out, google Bill Tait Protection Service. That’s the company he works for. I need something done, they’re the ones I call. Tait’s the best. And Mickey’s the best he’s got.”
Ellis heard Lira, but he was physically exhausted from the stress of the sprint to the IPO finish line. Now Melissa was gone.
“Brandon. Look at me.”
Ellis opened his eyes and focused on Lira.
“Bill Tait has never let me down. Mickey’s never let me down. You hear me?”
“There’s always a first time.”
“This is not gonna be that first time. I’m paying five million dollars to get this taken care of. It’ll be taken care of.”
Ellis swallowed deeply and again closed his eyes. “How long till he gets here?”
“Get yourself a drink, Brandon. I’ll send you a secure message on WhatsApp when he lands.”
18
As Amy made a pit stop at Walmart in San Leandro to buy a car seat, she tried to clear her mind. The adrenalin in her system had faded a bit, allowing her to gain some perspective on what she had just done.
Beyond the act of kidnapping a young child, she now knew she should have waited until she received the DNA results. Then she would know, without any doubt, that the girl sitting in the back was hers…at least genetically. But would that really matter?
Melissa was not actually her daughter, even if, on a biological level, she technically was. Assuming the test confirmed it, Melissa was her offspring, the genetic mixture of hers and Dan’s genes.
Yet what if she wasn’t? What if she was just a sweet little girl who looked like her own sweet little girl?
No. Mel
issa was hers. She could feel it.
But was Melissa actually alive as a frozen embryo? Or did Christine Ellis give her life?
What if the fire in Boston was real and the friendship between Ellis and Hutchinson had nothing to do with her or her destroyed embryos?
There was no valid explanation for Amy’s behavior should the police arrest her. A good defense attorney would claim that she was mentally ill, or whatever psychiatric diagnostic code they could conjure, according to the medical expert they would hire to describe such irrational and immoral behavior.
But if I know it’s immoral and irrational, why did I fake the call to Giselle? Why aren’t I headed back to the lake?
The drive to the zoo after Walmart was no better. She engaged in chatter with Melissa about birds, ducks, and geese, but Amy was distracted. She finally fell silent, once again perseverating on the fertility clinic fire. Could it have been real and she was imagining some criminal act that did not exist?
“Are we there yet?”
Melissa’s comment jostled Amy from her fugue. “Sorry, honey. Yes. We just need to park.”
Amy found a spot at the far end of the Oakland Zoo lot, sandwiched between two oversized SUVs. A cop would have to drive right up to her Subaru to get a look at the license plate.
Melissa unbuckled her seat belt and turned around onto her knees to peer out the rear window. “I don’t see any animals.”
“Silly girl. They’re inside. C’mon, let’s go get tickets.”
They made it through the admission booth without incident. Amy was half expecting cops to surround her—at any time, in any place. She found herself constantly checking over her shoulder, then realized that even if no one was suspecting her of a crime, they would soon start because of her odd behavior.
She admonished herself and readjusted her thinking. She was spending time with her daughter, and if she was going to be arrested, she would at least have these few hours with her girl. After all she had been through, she deserved this. She had gotten a second chance at something she never dreamed could happen.
Appreciate it. Live in the moment.
But had she really done anything wrong? She had merely taken back something that had been stolen from her. And removed the girl from an abusive environment.
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