She rushed to the guest cottage, burst inside, calling for her charge. The sea side of the guest cottage was a sheer wall of glass. Staring out at the sea, she thought of all the ways a little girl could be swallowed up.
And thinking of Cate’s love for the little beach, she raced out, down the steps, called and called while the sea lions reclining on the rocks watched her with bored eyes.
She raced up again to try the pool house, the garden shed. Sprinted inside to the lower level to search the theater, the family room, the rehearsal space, even the storage areas.
She raced back out the other side to check the garage.
“Caitlyn Ryan Sullivan! You come out right now! You’re scaring me.”
And she found the butterfly barrette she’d tucked into Cate’s long, lovely hair that morning on the ground by the old tree.
It meant nothing, she thought even as she clutched it in her hand. The girl had been doing handsprings, racing and running, doing pirouettes and jigs. It had just fallen out.
She told herself that over and over as she ran back to the house. Tears blurred her eyes when she dragged open the huge front door, and all but ran into Hugh.
“Nina, what in the world’s the matter?”
“I can’t—I can’t—Mr. Hugh, I can’t find Caitlyn. I can’t find her anywhere. I found this.”
She held out the barrette, burst into tears.
“Here now, don’t you worry. She’s just tucked up somewhere. We’ll find her.”
“She was playing hide-and-seek.” The trembling started as he led her into the main living room, where most of the family had gathered. “I—I came in to help Maria with little Circi and the baby. She was playing with the other children, and I came inside.”
Charlotte, sitting with a second cosmo, looked over as Hugh led Nina in. “For God’s sake, Nina, what’s going on?”
“I looked everywhere. I can’t find her. I can’t find Catey.”
“She’s probably just upstairs in her room.”
“No, ma’am, no. I looked. Everywhere. I called and called. She’s a good girl, she’d never hide away when I called for her, when she could hear I was worried.”
Aidan got to his feet. “When did you last see her?”
“They started, all the children, to play hide-and-seek. An hour—more now. She was with the other children, so I came to help with the babies and little ones. Mr. Aidan . . .”
She held out the barrette. “I only found this, by the big tree near the garage. It was in her hair. I put it in her hair this morning.”
“We’ll find her. Charlotte, check upstairs again. Both floors.”
“I’ll help.” Lily rose, as did her daughter.
“We’ll start checking this level.” Hugh’s sister patted Charlotte’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“You’re supposed to watch her!” Charlotte shoved to her feet.
“Ms. Charlotte—”
“Charlotte.” Aidan took his wife’s arm. “Nina wouldn’t have any reason to watch Cate every minute while she’s playing with all the kids.”
“Then where is she?” Charlotte demanded, and ran from the room calling for her daughter.
“Nina, come sit with me.” Rosemary held out a hand. “The men are going to look outside, every nook and cranny. The rest will look through the house.”
Rosemary tried a comforting smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And when we find her, I’m going to give her a good talking-to.”
For more than an hour, they looked, covering every inch of the sprawling house, its outbuildings, the grounds. Lily gathered the children, asked when they’d last seen Cate. It came down to the game Cate herself had instigated.
Lily, her flame-red hair disordered from the search, took Hugh’s hand. “I think we need to call the police.”
“The police!” Charlotte shrieked it. “My baby! Something’s happened to my baby. She’s fired! That useless woman’s fired. Aidan, God, Aidan.”
As she half swooned against him, the phone rang.
On a deep breath, Hugh walked over, picked up the phone.
“This is the Sullivan residence.”
“If you want to see the girl again, it’ll take ten million, in unmarked, nonsequential bills. Pay, and she’ll be returned to you unharmed. If you contact the police, she dies. If you contact the FBI, she dies. If you contact anyone, she dies. Keep this line open. I’ll call with further instructions.”
“Wait. Let me—”
But the phone went dead in his hand.
Lowering the phone, he looked at his son with horror. “Someone’s got Cate.”
“Oh, thank God! Where is she?” Charlotte demanded. “Aidan, we need to go get her right now.”
“That’s not what Dad meant.” His soul sank as he held Charlotte tight against him. “Is it, Dad?”
“They want ten million.”
“What are you talking about?” Charlotte tried to struggle out of Aidan’s arms. “Ten million for . . . You—she—My baby’s been kidnapped?”
“We need to call the police,” Lily said again.
“We do, but I need to tell you . . . He said, if we did, he’d hurt her.”
“Hurt her? She’s just a little girl. She’s my little girl.” Weeping, Charlotte pressed her face to Aidan’s shoulder. “Oh God, God, how could this happen? Nina! That bitch is probably part of this. I could kill her.”
She shoved away from Aidan, rounded on Lily. “Nobody’s calling the police. I won’t let them hurt my little girl. My child! We can get the money.” She grabbed a fistful of Aidan’s shirt. “The money is nothing. Aidan, our little girl. Tell them we’ll pay, pay anything. Just give us back our baby.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’re going to get her back, get her back safe.”
“It’s not the money, Charlotte.” Terrified, Hugh rubbed his hands over his face. “What if we pay, and they . . . they still hurt her? We need help.”
“What if? What if?” When she turned back to face him, Charlotte’s carefully styled chignon tumbled, spilling hair around her shoulders. “Didn’t you just say if we didn’t pay, they’d hurt her, if we called the police, they’d hurt her? I won’t risk my daughter. I won’t.”
“They might be able to trace the call,” Aidan began. “They might be able to find out how someone took her away.”
“Might? Might?” Her voice pitched up, a shriek like nails on a blackboard. “Is that what she means to you?”
“She means everything to me.” Aidan had to sit as his legs shook. “We have to think. We have to do what’s best for Catey.”
“We pay whatever he wants, do whatever he says. Aidan, dear God, Aidan, we can get the money. It’s our baby.”
“I’ll pay.” Hugh stared into Charlotte’s tear-ravaged face, into his son’s terrified one. “She was taken from my father’s house, a house my mother has given to me. I’ll pay.”
On a fresh sob, Charlotte threw herself into his arms. “I’ll never forget . . . She’ll be all right. Why would he hurt her if we give him what he wants? I want my little girl. I just want my little girl.”
Reading Hugh’s signal as Charlotte clutched at him, Lily moved in. “Here now, here now, let me take you upstairs. Miranda,” she said to her youngest daughter, “why don’t you help keep the children occupied, maybe take them down to the theater, put on a movie, and have someone bring Charlotte up some tea? Everything’s going to be fine,” she soothed as she pulled Charlotte away.
“I want my baby.”
“Of course you do.”
“Put on some coffee,” Rosemary said. She sat, face pale, hands linked tight, but back straight. “We need our wits about us.”
“I’ll make some calls, start arranging for the money. No,” Hugh said when Aidan started out. “Leave her to Lily for now. It’s best to leave her to Lily. There’s more to consider than getting the money, and how in God’s name they took Cate from under our noses. They’re amateurs, and that scare
s me to death.”
“Why do you say that?” Aidan demanded.
“Ten million, Aidan, in cash. I can find a way to get it, and I will, but the logistics after? How do they expect to transport such a large amount? The practicalities. It’s not smart, son, it’s not. Having the money wired, having a way, an account, that’s smart. This isn’t.”
As everyone in the room started talking at once, voices raised in anger and anxiety, Rosemary got slowly to her feet. “Enough!” And with her power as the matriarch, the room fell into silence. “Have any of you ever seen ten million dollars, all in cash? Hugh’s right on this. Just as he’s right we should be calling the police. But—” She held up a finger before the din started up again. “It’s Aidan and Charlotte who have the say on that. We all love Caitlyn, but she’s their daughter. So we’ll get the money. Hugh and I. It’s for us,” she said to Hugh. “My house still, and soon to be yours. So we’ll go into your father’s office, and do what we need to do to get it, and quickly.
“Get some tea up to her,” Rosemary continued. “And I’ve no doubt someone around here has a sleeping pill or two. Given her personality, and her state of mind, it might be best to convince her to take a pill and sleep for now.”
“I’ll take the tea up,” Aidan told her. “And Charlotte has her own pills. I’ll see she takes one. Before I do, I’ll try again to convince her to call the police. Because I agree with you. Yet, if something happened . . .”
“One step at a time.” She went to him, gripped his hands. “We’ll get the money, your dad and I. And we’ll do, all of us, whatever you and Charlotte decide.”
“Nan.” He brought her hands up, pressed them to his cheeks. “My world. Cate’s the center of it.”
“I know it. You’ll stay strong for her. Let’s get these bastards the money they want, Hugh.”
Cate woke slowly. Because her head hurt she squeezed her eyes tight, hunched into herself as if to push off the pain. Her throat felt sore, and something inside her tummy rolled like it wanted her to puke it out.
She didn’t want to throw up, didn’t want to.
She wanted Nina, or her daddy, or her mom. Somebody to make it stop.
She opened her eyes to the dark. Something was really wrong. She was really sick, but she didn’t remember getting really sick.
The bed didn’t feel right—too hard, with scratchy sheets. She had a lot of beds in a lot of rooms. Her own at home, her bed at Grandpa and G-Lil’s, at Grandda and Nan’s, at—
No, her grandda had died, she remembered now. And they’d had a celebration because of his life. Playing, playing with all the kids. Tag, and tricks, and hide-and-seek. And . . .
The man, the man at her hiding place. Did she fall?
She bolted up in bed, and the room spun. But she called out for Nina. Wherever she was, Nina was always close. As her eyes adjusted, as nothing looked right, she climbed out of bed. In the dim light from a scatter of stars, a slice of a moon, she made out a door and rushed to it.
It wouldn’t open, so she banged on it, crying now as she called for Nina.
“Nina! I can’t get out. I feel sick. Nina. Daddy, please. Mom, let me out, let me out.”
Thinking it might come in handy later, they recorded her pleading cries.
The door opened so fast it smacked against Cate, knocked her down. The light outside the door burned into the room, illuminated the face of a scary clown with sharp teeth.
When she screamed, he laughed.
“Nobody can hear you, stupid, so shut the hell up or I’ll break off your arm and eat it.”
“Chill, Pennywise.”
A werewolf came in. He carried a tray, walked right by her as she scrambled back on her heels and elbows. He set it on the bed.
“You got soup, you got milk. You eat it, you drink it, otherwise my pal here will hold you down while I pour it down your throat.”
“I want my daddy!”
“Aww,” the one called Pennywise made a mean laugh. “She wants her daddy. Too bad because I already cut your daddy into pieces and fed him to the pigs.”
“Knock it off,” the wolfman said. “Here’s the deal, brat. You eat what we give you when we give it to you. You use that bathroom over there. You don’t give us trouble, you don’t make a mess, and you’ll be back with your daddy in a couple days. Otherwise, we’re going to hurt you, real bad.”
Fear and fury rose together. “You’re not a real werewolf because that’s made-up. That’s a mask.”
“Think you’re smart?”
“Yes!”
“How about this?” Pennywise reached behind him, pulled a gun out of his waistband. “Does this look real, you little bitch? You want to test it?”
Wolfman snarled at Pennywise. “Now you chill. And you—”
He added a second snarl for Cate. “Little smart-ass. Eat that soup, all of it. Same with the milk. Or when I come back, I’ll start breaking your fingers. Do what you’re told, you go back to being a princess in a couple days.”
Leaning down, Pennywise grabbed her hair with one hand, yanked her head back, and pressed the gun to her throat.
“Back off, you fucking clown.” Wolfman grabbed his shoulder, but Pennywise shook it off.
“She needs a lesson first. You want to find out what happens when little rich bitches back-talk? Say, ‘No, sir.’ Say it!”
“No, sir.”
“Eat your fucking dinner.”
He stormed out as she sat on the floor, shaking, sobbing.
“Just eat the soup, for Christ’s sake,” Wolfman muttered. “And be quiet.”
He went out, locked the door.
Because the floor was cold, she crawled back onto the bed. She didn’t have a blanket, and couldn’t stop shaking. Maybe she was a little hungry, but she didn’t want the soup.
But she didn’t want the man in the clown mask to break her fingers or shoot her. She just wanted Nina to come and sing to her, or Daddy to tell her a story, or her mom to show her all the pretty clothes she bought that day.
They were looking for her. Everybody. And when they found her, they’d put the men in the masks in jail forever.
Comforted by that, she spooned up some soup. It didn’t smell good, and the little bit she swallowed tasted wrong. Just wrong.
She couldn’t eat it. Why did they care if she ate it?
Frowning, she sniffed at it again, sniffed at the glass of milk.
Maybe they put poison in it. She trembled over that, rubbed her arms to warm them, to soothe herself. Poison didn’t make sense. But it didn’t taste right. She’d seen lots and lots of movies. Bad guys put stuff in food sometimes. Just because she was kidnapped, she wasn’t stupid. She knew that much. And they didn’t tie her up, just locked her in.
She started to run to the window, then thought: Quiet, quiet. She eased out of bed, padded to the window. She could see trees and dark, the shadow of hills. No houses, no lights.
Glancing behind her, heart thumping, she tried to open the window. She tried to unlock it, felt the nails.
Panic wanted to come, but she closed her eyes, just breathed and breathed. Her mom liked to do yoga and sometimes let her do it, too. Breathe and breathe.
They thought she was stupid. Just a stupid kid, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to eat the soup or drink the milk that they’d put drugs in. Probably.
Instead, she took the bowl and the glass, picked her way carefully toward the bathroom. She dumped it in the toilet first, then peed because she really had to.
Then she flushed it all away.
When they came back, she’d pretend to be asleep. Deep, deep asleep. She knew how. She was an actress, wasn’t she? And not stupid, so she slipped the spoon under the pillow.
She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she’d slept before. Because he’d—one of them—had stuck her with a needle. But she’d wait, just wait, until they came to take the tray away. And she’d pray they wouldn’t notice the spoon wasn’t there.
&
nbsp; She tried not to cry anymore. It was hard, but she needed to think about what she had to do. Nobody could really think when they were crying, so she wouldn’t.
It took forever, it took so long she nearly did fall asleep. Then she heard the locks click, and the door open.
Breathe slow, steady. Don’t squeeze your eyes, don’t jump if he touches you. She’d pretended to sleep before—and even fooled Nina—when she wanted to sneak and stay up and read.
Music played, and nearly made her jump. The man—the wolf because she knew his voice now and recognized it from when he helped boost her up the tree—said a bad word. But he answered in a different kind of way.
He said:
“Hi, lover. You’re calling from the idiot nanny’s phone, right? So if the cops ever check it, she’ll get blamed? Good, good. What’s the word? Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. I’m looking at her right now. Sleeping like a baby.”
He gave Cate a sharp poke in the ribs as he listened, and she lay still. “That’s my girl. Keep it up. Don’t let me down. I’ll go make the next call in about thirty. You know I do, lover. Just a couple more days, and we’re home free. Counting the hours.”
She heard something rustle, didn’t move, then heard him walking away.
“Morons,” he muttered with a kind of laugh in his voice. “People are fucking morons. And women are the biggest morons of all.”
The door shut, the locks clicked.
She didn’t move. Just waited, waited, counting in her head to a hundred, then another hundred until she risked letting her eyes slit open.
She didn’t see him or hear him, but kept breathing her sleeping breaths.
Slowly, she sat up, took the spoon from under the pillow. As quietly as she could, she crept to the window. She and her grandpa had built a birdhouse once. She knew about nails, and how you could hammer them in. Or pry them out.
She used the spoon, but her hands were slippery with sweat. She nearly dropped it, nearly started to cry again. She wiped her hands and the spoon on her jeans, tried again. At first it wouldn’t move, not even a little. Then she thought it did, and tried harder.
She thought she had it, nearly had it, when she heard voices outside. Terrified, she dropped down to the floor, her breath coming out in pants she couldn’t stop.
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