Nolan had been at the home of Brady and Reagan Thomas. Brady was the Nutfield Chief of Police.
The only other car in the driveway that day had belonged to Garrison Kopp, a former FBI agent. A woman had been with Kopp, but her name was unknown.
Great, a police chief and a fed. Even Vanessa knew enough not to mess with either of those. Bad enough Nolan was a cop.
The investigator continued. "This morning, he did pick up a child from a home in Nutfield. They went to the park, then he took the boy to eat pizza. There was some kind of scuffle, and Nolan ended up in an ambulance."
Mateo leaned forward. "What kind of scuffle? What happened?"
"Impossible to know for sure," the PI said, "but I heard a teenager stole something and ran, and Nolan followed. He was knocked out in the alley."
"The kid?"
"He was picked up by the people who live in the house where Nolan had picked him up. He isn't their child, though. That house is owned by a Nathan and Marisa Boyle. They have one child, a five-year-old girl. I'm not sure who this kid was."
"Our other source says it's a foster kid," Carlos said. "Can you look into that?"
"Tough to get information like that, but I'll see what I can do."
"What about the other people?" Carlos snatched her notebook, read the names. "Brady Thomas or Garrison Kopp. Either of them have a kid they didn't have a few days ago?"
"Don't know yet," the man said, "but I'll keep my eyes open."
They ended the call, and Carlos tossed his phone on the table beside him. "If anything happened to my child, Kelsey is going to pay."
Vanessa knew better than to respond to that. She slipped her notebook off of Carlos's table and read what she'd written. Not a lot to go on.
"When we find her," Carlos said, "I'll make her tell me everything. I'll know where my son is by the end of the day."
His son. Vanessa knew Carlos assumed it was a boy. Like she assumed the child growing in her womb was a boy. Because a boy would be better. A boy could grow up to be strong and powerful. A girl... The way Carlos treated girls, it didn't surprise her that he didn't want one. She didn't want one, either.
She knew what it meant to be a girl. She wouldn't wish that pain on anybody.
The problem was, Carlos's plan was flawed. She waited for Mateo to point it out. As the miles slid below them like waves, her anxiety rose to an altitude even higher than the chartered plane's. Did she have the nerve to point out the flaw in his plan?
She glanced at Mateo, but he was typing something into his phone.
Carlos was staring out the window, hands clenching into fists, then unclenching.
If she wanted to prove herself invaluable to him, she had to speak up. "When you had her before"—she kept her voice soft, gentle, weak—"did it work to hurt her? Did that break her?"
Mateo slowly lowered his phone. They both watched Carlos's reaction.
The vein on Carlos's forehead pulsed, a sure sign he was angry. He addressed her. "This time, I will not be kind. I was a fool. I thought she cared for me." He regarded Vanessa through narrowed eyes, and she knew what he was thinking.
"It's different with us, Carlos."
The vein stopped pulsing. The man's moods shifted faster than the sand beneath the surf. His lips tipped up slightly. "How so?"
She shrugged, backed away the tiniest bit, and smiled. All subtle moves designed to show her self-confidence, her independence. All lies, of course, but ones she needed him to believe that she believed.
It was a very dangerous game.
"I chose you," she said. "Do you have any idea how many men have desired my devotion."
His eyebrow quirked. "Abbas?"
She knew her reaction showed before she could school her expression. She and Carlos had never talked about the man Carlos had won her from, and she'd prefer not to talk about him now. Certainly not with Mateo's curious gaze on her. "Abbas was a monster. He couldn't earn the loyalty of a golden retriever."
Carlos's laugh settled her fear. "I rescued you, then."
Rescued her? He had no idea what he'd rescued her from. She leaned forward, across the tiny space, and took one of his hands in hers. "You rescued me. You earned my loyalty in that moment, and you've earned it every moment since."
He stared into her eyes, seeking what, she didn't know. Duplicity? Fear? She knew better than to show either. Finally, he sat back, and she did too.
He glanced at Mateo, and for the first time, she was thankful the man was with them. Otherwise, what would Carlos do? She'd let him do whatever he wished to her—she'd learned that lesson years ago. It was easier to comply than to fight, and either way, it always ended up the same.
Carlos looked back at her, leered at her. "You're much sexier than a golden retriever."
She laughed and picked up her notebook.
A few moments passed before she finally had the nerve to ask, "How did you keep her in line before?"
"I had her sister," Carlos said. "It's amazing the things that woman did, the ways she lied to me..." He shook his head, and Vanessa didn't press him. Obviously, reminding Carlos that he'd been a fool wasn't a wise move.
"She is a skilled manipulator," Mateo said. "She was willing to endure many things to save her sister."
"You think being with me is something one needs to endure?"
Mateo shrugged. "Under the circumstances..."
Carlos regarded the man. That vein had started throbbing again by the time he said, "Perhaps I was a fool to believe she could get over that."
Perhaps? Vanessa decided not to voice her sarcasm. Instead, she said, "How much more willing will she be to protect her child?"
Carlos opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. The moment stretched, Vanessa waited, and Carlos's vein pulsed.
Mateo said nothing. For the first time since she'd met him, she and Mateo seemed to be on the same side in an argument. Unfortunate, because that meant one of them was unnecessary to the conversation.
She prayed it wouldn't be her.
Finally, Carlos addressed her. "What do you suggest?"
She stifled the smug look. "We could wait, of course, until she reunites with her child. Then we could snatch them both."
"I have waited long enough."
"I agree."
He nodded.
Vanessa continued before Mateo would offer a suggestion. "We could make her choose. Her husband or her child."
"You're suggesting we threaten a cop?" Mateo asked.
She barely glanced his way before looking at Carlos. "I'm suggesting we take the cop. For all we know, he knows where your child is. Maybe he will be more easily persuaded. It's not his child, after all. It's a child she had with another man. He should feel no loyalty to him."
"We could hurt him," Mateo said.
"Or," Vanessa said, "we could convince him we'll kill her, if we don't get the child. Maybe her loyalty is to the child, but his will be to her."
Carlos nodded slowly and addressed Mateo. "If I were her husband, I would want that kid gone. Of course, if a woman of mine did what Kelsey did with another man"—he shifted, met Vanessa's eyes and smiled, though this one didn't crinkle his eyes—"I would kill her."
She didn't cringe under his gaze. He hadn't needed to make the threat. Carlos was a passionate man, and she'd seen him unleash his anger often enough. She'd seen him murder the man who'd held out for more money in exchange for information on Kelsey's whereabouts a couple of months prior. She'd seen his anger grow and morph into something terrifying, something with a mind of its own. She'd hardly been surprised at the bullets that followed the look in his eyes.
The informant had crumpled in a pool of blood.
Vanessa had no intention of ever being on the receiving end of Carlos's anger. She would work with him. She would help him, and he would be devoted to her all the more for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kelsey hated to admit it, but she was having fun.
With friends.
/> She hadn't had friends, real friends, in a long time. She hardly knew how to handle it.
Sam's condo was gorgeous—bright colors, clean lines, and modern touches. They worked at the kitchen table in front of the sliding glass door. The sunlight was cheerful, the mood, weirdly lighthearted.
If only Daniel were here.
The thought sobered her. At least she knew he was safe. With Eric, probably having the time of his life. For now, she knew he was okay. For now, she could relax.
She and Sam sat in front of Sam's laptop and searched the dark web while Garrison leaned against the doorjamb and made frequent remarks.
"The FBI could do that in minutes," he said.
"They are professionals, you know." Garrison's voice a few minutes later.
"They have tools for this sort of thing." Garrison sounded frustrated now.
Sam responded to that one. "Be a dear and get me access to their tools."
Garrison threw up his hands and stalked into the living room, where he turned on the TV.
Kelsey and Sam only giggled.
How could they be having fun doing this?
The fun fizzled fast when they found the photographs. Just a few minutes passed before Sam slammed her laptop closed. "I can't do this."
Kelsey didn't blame her. "Doesn't help that we don't know what we're looking for."
Obviously, Garrison had been listening, because he came back in the kitchen and sat beside Sam. "I'm glad you stopped." He met her eyes. "You don't need to look at that stuff."
"You're right."
They didn't even want to look at it.
Kelsey had lived it.
Her sister had died in it.
Sam grabbed her hand and squeezed. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you went through."
Kelsey wanted to pull her hand away, hide it, hide herself away from these good people. But she didn't want to hurt Sam's feelings. The moment turned awkward.
Garrison clapped his hands. "Well, enough of that. Let's eat."
Sam squeezed Kelsey's hand again, pulled it away, then rolled her eyes. "The man is always hungry."
Kelsey opened her mouth. The words almost popped out. Daniel is the same way. She snapped her jaw shut just in time.
That was why she couldn't have friends. Nothing killed a friendship faster than secrets you couldn't share.
Sam, far too observant, narrowed her eyes. "You okay?"
"Just thinking about my sister." The lie came easily. Too easily. "She was always hungry."
Sam's gaze was kind. "I'm sorry. It must be hard."
"I don't know why...I guess just being here brings back a lot of memories."
"Not all bad, I hope."
Kelsey's smile was real this time. "Mostly good. The best days of my life were spent right here in Nutfield."
While Garrison and Sam fixed lunch, Kelsey told them about her wedding and the days they spent on the lake. She told them how she and Eric had fallen in love with Nutfield.
"I often wondered how Eric ended up here." Garrison carried three plates to the table. "Guy like him could get hired on anywhere he wanted."
"But he loves it here." Sam lifted two cups and followed Garrison. "Carry the chips, would you?"
Kelsey snatched the two bags off the counter and joined her friends at the table. "He likes it here. But still... That he would come here, wait for me..."
She let her words trail off as she slid into her seat.
"He loves you." Sam's words were matter-of-face as she ripped open the potato chips. "Love means sacrifice."
Kelsey met her eyes. Was she worth it?
She didn't have to voice the question. It hung like a fog over the room.
Sam started to speak, but Garrison beat her to it.
"You are worth it, Kelsey. You are worth his sacrifice." His gaze was serious and steady.
He nodded, turned to Sam. "Pass those chips, babe."
They dug into their sandwiches, but as Kelsey bit the ham and cheese and munched the salty potato chips, she couldn't keep Garrison's words from flitting through her brain. Was she worth it? Was all she'd cost Eric worth it? If he could, would he rewind the clock, never get on his knees in the quad where they'd met, never beg her to marry him?
Would he take it all back if he could?
Would she?
Nope. She'd do a lot of things differently, no doubt. But becoming Eric's bride—she could never bring herself to regret that. Her love for him, and her love for Daniel, felt like the only bits of purity she had left in her ruined heart.
That love would cost her, but her friends were right. Love was worth any sacrifice. She'd have given her whole life to save her sister. She'd given up her marriage to protect Eric. She'd given up Daniel to save him.
And Eric had given up his dreams to wait for her.
Would any of it amount to anything, in the end?
A phone rang. Garrison stood, pulled his cell from his pocket. "Kopp here."
Kelsey smiled at Sam. "His last name is Kopp?"
"I know, right? Could he be named more aptly?"
The girls giggled while Garrison stalked out of the room.
He returned a moment later, phone away, expression far too serious. He looked at Kelsey. "Eric's been attacked."
"What?" She stood, nearly toppled the chair behind her, and caught it before it crashed into the sliding glass door. "Is he okay?" Then another thought occurred to her. "Daniel. Was Daniel hurt?"
"No," Eric said. "The kid was at the arcade. I guess a teenager assaulted someone and bolted. Eric followed him into an alley and got whacked on the head."
"Is he all right?"
"They're taking him to the hospital."
Sam stood, started throwing cold cuts into the refrigerator. Garrison helped while Kelsey stood there, uselessly.
This was her fault. Whatever had happened, it was about her. It had nothing to do with Eric. But just like she'd always known would happen if she came back to Nutfield, she'd pulled him into her nightmare. Now it was his nightmare, too. If anything happened to Eric, she'd never forgive herself.
And then, what would become of Daniel?
She should go. She should just go. Run. Never look back.
"Kelsey."
Sam was staring at her. Had she said her name more than once?
"I'm sorry. What?"
"We're ready."
She would only make it worse. She should leave now. Would that protect Eric and Daniel?
Garrison walked to her side and grasped her arm. "You're going with us. Eric'll kill me if I let you take off."
"I wasn't—"
"Please don't lie to me. I'll know if you do." He gave her a look, and she wondered... Had she lied? She had. And he knew it.
Their gazes held. He lifted his eyebrows.
She swallowed. She would have to leave, but she couldn't leave without seeing Eric one more time.
Just one more time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Saturday
It was the best day ever. Until that bad kid stole something. And now, it's the worst day ever.
Eric picked me up this morning. While I was with him, I kept thinking real hard about what a good daddy he would be. Caleb's mother told me I should ask God when I want something. She told me that praying is just like having a conversation with a person in front of you that you can't see. All day, I kept kind of whispering to God, like in my head, but sometimes, I think maybe I even said it out loud, that I want Eric to be my daddy. He'd be the best daddy in the whole world. He was nice to me and played with me and had fun with me and never, ever got frustrated or mad at me. I've seen other daddies get like that. Even Mr. Nate sometimes gets frustrated with Ana, when she starts speaking Spanish, which even though she's just little, I think she does when he asks her to do something she doesn't want to do. Mr. Nate'll look at Miss Marisa with his eyebrows all high, like, hey, I told her to carry her dish to the sink and she's speaking Spanish, and then Miss Marisa will say, "Englis
h, pajarita," which they told me means little bird. Which fits—Ana's teeny tiny and she never shuts up. And when Miss Marisa tells her to speak English, she will, but still she doesn't always do what Mr. Nate tells her to do, so he has to tell her again, and he gets frustrated.
Maybe Eric didn't get frustrated with me because I did everything he said. But that was easy, because he only asked me to do easy stuff. And everything we did just kept getting better. First skateboarding, which was awesome. I'm getting really good. Even Eric said so. Then we had pizza, and he even told me I could order a whole second pizza if I was still hungry. I really tried to eat it all, but then I remembered Mama telling me not to each too much or I'd get sick, and it seemed not nice to make Eric buy a second pizza just because I wanted to see if he would. And then we went to this video arcade and played games.
And then some teenager stole something, and Eric ran after him, and he got hurt. And I don't know what happened to him, but they wouldn't let me see him again, and he got taken away in an ambulance. Mr. Nate came and got me, but he wouldn't take me to see Eric in the hospital, even though I felt like I was going to cry.
What if he dies? It was my fault he was at that video arcade, and what if he doesn't get better?
Miss Marisa came into my room a little while ago and told me Eric was doing okay, so he's probably not going to die. And I don't want to be all dramatic like Caleb's mom sometimes says he is. I'm just saying, I wish I could see him. Then I'd know he was okay, then I'd feel better.
I wonder if Mama is okay. What if she gets hurt and can't ever come back for me? I like Mr. Nate and Miss Marisa, but I really, really, really want my mama back. And maybe a daddy, too. A daddy just like Eric.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Eric would punch something if his head weren't pounding.
After the attack, he'd been frantic to make sure Daniel was all right. He'd staggered to the sidewalk, been grabbed by hands, seen faces he didn't recognize. As the fuzziness cleared, all he could think about was Daniel.
Wally met him on the sidewalk. "He's inside with Sally. He's fine. He thinks you're a hero."
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