While Jamie retrieved his bag from the trunk of the car, Jake took out his cell phone. It was turned off, as usual — he’d just never gotten in the habit of using it, and wouldn’t use it at all once he was back at work. As always, he’d carry nothing but his camera. That had never been a concern in the past, because Millie and his publisher were always able to reach him — eventually. But that was before he knew about Daisy. He sighed. One night of sex with Violet sure had complicated his life. The second night? It had nearly destroyed him.
Waving goodbye to Jamie, he punched in Millie’s number and left a message telling her to have her assistant move up his travel arrangements. After promising to call her first thing in the morning, he tossed the cell phone onto the dash and drove back toward the city, and Daisy.
He was halfway to Violet’s when it rang. It would be Millie, he knew, calling him back to tell him why he couldn’t go yet. He reached for it and pressed the green button. “I’m going.”
“Jake? Jake, you have to get here as fast as you can!” The caller — not Millie — was sobbing, close to hysteria.
“Who is … Grace, is that you?”
“There’s a fire. I called 911. They’re on the way. But Daisy …”
“What about Daisy?” He heard sirens, then yelling. “Grace? Grace, talk to me!” The line went dead.
Minutes later, he stopped his car in the middle of the street in front of Violet’s townhouse. He left the door ajar and the engine running, and, with his feet barely touching the ground, he wove his way between fire trucks and leapt over hoses, pushing bystanders and emergency workers out of the way as he ran. Violet’s front door had been broken open with an axe, and the firefighters were spraying the foyer — the only route to Daisy’s nursery.
“Jake!” He turned his head and saw Grace, limp in the arms of a rescue worker. There was no sign of Daisy.
“Hey! You can’t go in there!” A fireman stopped him at the door, or tried to.
A quick punch to the midsection sent the guy reeling just long enough for Jake to bound past him. He pulled his shirt up over his nose, and entered the smoke-filled hallway. The stairs were straight ahead. Daisy’s room was at the top, and he reached it in three leaps. Coughing, he burst through the closed door. The smoke hadn’t seeped into the room yet, so it was easy to see. But he couldn’t believe what he was seeing — Daisy’s crib was empty. No baby, no blankets or teddy bear. Nothing. If they’d already gotten her out, where was she? Why hadn’t Grace told him?
A fireman tackled him from behind while another rushed past him and grabbed the side of the crib. “Where’s the kid? The babysitter said she was in here.”
Jake saw red, thought he might be having a stroke but didn’t care. “You mean you don’t have her? Then where the hell is she?”
“Kelly, get him out of here.” The second fireman to enter the room spoke to the one who was holding Jake. “Me and Jenkins will search the rest of the house.”
Although he struggled, Jake was no match for Kelly. Seconds later he was outside with Grace, who was now being questioned by a female police officer.
He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Grace, where did you leave Daisy?”
The baffled expression on her face was the most frightening thing he’d ever seen. “I put her to bed. I know you wanted me to wait for you, but she was so cranky. When she had her bottle she fell asleep …”
It took all his willpower not to yell at the woman. She seemed old and frail. Why had they trusted her with the baby? “Grace, she’s not in her crib now.”
“I don’t understand.” Her voice was barely audible. “Where else could she be?”
Jake stood up, his body primed for action but with no action to take. He walked back toward the house just as the trio of firemen emerged from the front door. One of them caught the eye of the police officer. He shook his head and raised his empty hands. They hadn’t found Daisy.
“Jake? Where’s Daisy? Is she all right?” Violet was running toward him.
He pulled her into his arms, but it was like trying to hold a wild bear. The worst part of it was, there was nothing he could say to calm her. “I don’t know.”
“Sir? Are you the baby’s father?” The police officer had to yell to be heard over Violet’s screams and sobs. “How old is the baby? Is she walking?”
“No!” he yelled back. “She’s only five months old.”
“Can you think of any reason someone might have taken her?”
Suddenly Violet became a dead, quiet weight in Jake’s arms.
• • •
Violet was conscious for several seconds before she dared to open her eyes. She prayed that somehow, when she did, the nightmare would be over and she would be safe in her bed, listening to Daisy’s whispery breaths over the baby monitor. However, the hubbub she heard all around her — static-riddled conversation on two-way radios, men shouting, and a woman sobbing — told her what was happening was all too real. When she gave up and forced her eyelids open, they felt like they had weights attached to them.
After a moment she understood she was lying on a gurney inside a brightly lit ambulance, with an I.V. in one arm and a blood pressure cuff inflated on the other. The air whooshed out of the cuff, and the paramedic removed the stethoscope from her ears and looked at her with the kindest eyes she had ever seen. Her sympathetic gaze confirmed Violet was that most tragic of victims, a mother whose child was missing — or dead. Violet, as a newswoman, knew the statistics. If they didn’t find Daisy soon, they likely would never find her alive.
“She’s awake,” the woman said to someone Violet couldn’t see. “Should I give her more?”
Violet struggled to make her dry tongue meet the roof of her mouth. “No!” She felt the pressure of someone squeezing her hand.
“Let them help you, sweetheart.” It was Jake.
“I need to be awake when … when they bring her home.” Many times in her career Violet had reported stories of missing children, and interviewed heartbroken mothers. She’d always wondered how the mothers clung so staunchly to the belief that
their
child would be one of the lucky ones. Now she knew — it was impossible to believe anything else.
Jake took her hand in both of his. “We’ll find her. I promise.” Tears had traced a path through a layer of black soot coating his face.
“You went inside, didn’t you? Are you hurt?” She struggled to sit up so she could examine him more closely.
He held up his right hand, which appeared swollen and red. “Only where I connected with the fireman who tried to keep me out.”
She remembered the night he’d told her about saving his stepfather from the fire, and the feel of his scar under her hand the night they’d made love. He’d gone into the house despite his well-earned fear of fire, in a futile attempt to retrieve his child. He might not have survived.
“Oh, Jake, Daisy’s gone and you could have been killed, and it’s all my fault!” The tears came again, and wouldn’t stop. Jake stood and put his arms around her where she sat on the gurney, rocking her and making soothing sounds.
When she was worn out, her sobs replaced by hiccupping gasps, he asked her what she’d meant.
“I insisted on doing the ad campaign.”
“You think that’s why Daisy was kidnapped, if she was?”
“Of course she was kidnapped, Jake, she didn’t walk out of the house by herself! I’m sure someone saw her picture and figured they could get money from me.” She began to cry again. “And they can, all I have and more. If they’ll just give Daisy back unharmed.”
“We’ve called in the FBI, Miss Gallagher.” Violet had been unaware the policewoman had climbed into the ambulance with them. “They want to know where they can meet with you.”
“What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”
The officer shook her head. “Your house is being treated as a crime scene, and you won’t be allowed inside. Besides, it has a lot of smoke and water damage. You’ll want to get professionals in to clean.”
“But the kidnappers will be calling. Is my phone working?” She wrenched herself free of Jake’s grip. “Someone get this thing out of my arm!”
The paramedic, working quickly, removed the I.V. Jake tried to hold her hand, but she couldn’t bear to be touched and jerked it away.
“We’re checking your phone records now. If the kidnappers deliberately set this fire as a distraction, which seems likely, they’ll find some other way to contact you.”
Violet knew what she was thinking — if they
wanted
to contact her. Although she’d told Jake she believed they were holding Daisy for ransom, she knew there was another possibility. Babies were often stolen by women who wanted to keep them. Some desperate, childless woman might have seen her picture and decided she needed Daisy to fill her empty arms.
“Jake? Did you see her crib? Was anything else … missing from it?”
“It was empty. They took her blanket, and the pink teddy bear she always sleeps with.” His voice broke. “I’m glad she has those with her, at least.”
Violet wasn’t as comforted. Daisy was too young to have chosen a lovey yet, although they always tucked her in with the soft blanket Seth’s wife Jenna had knitted for her. Anyone might have wrapped her in the blanket to make her easier to carry — or to hide her — but taking the teddy bear was a more maternal gesture. For Jake’s sake, however, she kept the thought to herself.
She climbed out of the ambulance with Jake right behind her. “How can we leave without her?”
“We don’t have any choice.” He took her in his arms. “I’ll take you to Jamie’s, and we’ll set up headquarters there. We’ll get her back, I promise.”
• • •
Jake gave the police Jamie’s address, and they both dictated their various phone numbers. Violet called her parents in Connecticut, asking them to meet her at Jamie’s apartment as soon as possible.
Then, because he didn’t think she could bear to do it, he went inside the smoky townhouse and packed an overnight bag for her. The policewoman accompanied him. He tried not to take it personally that he’d been told not to leave town, and his every movement was being observed. Of course they would treat him, and even Violet, as suspects; what bothered him was that he
felt
guilty, even if he wasn’t sure why. Most likely Violet was right, and the ad campaign had inspired someone to take their baby and hold her for ransom. Which meant it was his fault for not following his instincts and saying no to Violet. He’d never been good at saying no to any woman, but she was especially persuasive. No more, he vowed.
Self-conscious under the woman’s watchful eyes, he scooped up underwear, tee-shirts and sweatpants from Violet’s drawers and tossed them into the overnight bag he found in her closet. In the bathroom, he added everything from the top of the vanity, and her shampoo and body wash from the shower. Anything he’d missed, she could borrow from him or Jamie, or from the cache of personal items left behind by Jamie’s girls. Although he recognized he was performing an intimate service, there was nothing sexual about it. He just wanted to take care of Violet — the way he’d failed to take care of Daisy.
Before he returned to Violet, he made a call to Jamie. He needed to warn him that his apartment was about to become a beehive of activity, and he didn’t want to say the words “Daisy is missing” in front of her. To his surprise, Jamie told him their Uncle Matt was there; he’d come into the city to see his doctor and get his cast removed. Although he knew it was illogical, it comforted him to know that Matt, the closest thing he had to a father, would be on the scene. Although there was nothing he, or anyone, could do.
He was glad he’d forewarned his brother, because the block he lived on was already lined with police cruisers and plain black sedans when Jake steered his rental car into the underground parking garage twenty minutes later. He and Violet were forced to show I.D. to one uniformed officer, then escorted on the elevator to the penthouse by another.
When they entered the apartment, Jamie rose from one of the leather living room sofas and took Violet in his arms. A tall man dressed in khakis and a white polo shirt joined them.
“Violet and Jake, this is Ted Forrester, he’s the lead FBI agent on the case.”
Jake was surprised by the man’s casual attire, since agents in the movies were always dressed in dark suits. Ted even had a day’s growth of dark stubble. The earpiece he wore to keep in touch with the other investigators was the only thing official-looking about him.
“Forgive the way I’m dressed, Mr. Macintyre,” he said as he shook Jake’s hand with a reassuringly firm grip. “I was called in from my vacation to handle this case.”
“Thank you, Agent Forrester. I want my baby back.” Violet’s voice started out strong, but broke down with her last words.
Forrester nodded, grim-faced, as he shook her hand. “Then let’s get to work, shall we?”
Jamie steered Violet to the sofa where he’d been sitting, and the FBI agent indicated Jake should sit next to him on the one across from it. A second agent was perched on the edge of the sofa, typing on a laptop computer in front of him on the coffee table. Two others stood on the periphery of the room. As he was about to sit, he saw his Uncle Matt, who had risen from his chair and held out his arms to him.
He indicated the crutches propped against the armchair. “I’m real wobbly on these things, so come here and give your old uncle a hug.” Jake felt so fragile he was afraid Matt’s bear-like embrace and slap on the back might kill him. “We’ll get your baby back.”
When everyone was seated, Forrester asked Violet and Jake to put their cell phones on the table. “I expect the perpetrator will try to contact one of you. We already have your numbers, and we may be able to get some useful information that way. But forget everything you’ve ever heard about keeping the caller on the line so we’ll have time to trace the call. That isn’t necessary. Just listen to what he — or
she
— has to say, write down the directions, and don’t say anything that might make him mad. Got it?”
They both nodded, and he continued. “It appears the person who did this started a fire outside your laundry room, Miss Gallagher. While the babysitter, Mrs. Cornelius, was distracted, they went in the front door and took the baby. Then they set a second fire in the area of the foyer, so she couldn’t get upstairs and see the baby was gone.”