After the police had gone, Cait sat on the sofa giving Leyla a bottle, relishing the feeling of holding her daughter close. Afterward, Leyla fell asleep, but Cait did not put her down for a nap. Nothing made her feel more at peace than when Leyla slept in her arms. When she was a little girl, Auntie Jane’s chocolate shop had been her safe place, where she felt nothing could go wrong. But Sweet Somethings had been gone for years, and Nizam’s death had unmoored her, made her feel that no place was safe … until Leyla had been born. Moments like this, cradling her sleeping child, this was her safe place. And today she had more reason than ever before to want to keep her daughter close.
She shifted her a little to the left and reached down to dig into a pocket for her cell phone. Only when she had slid it out did she recall that the battery had died, and her charger was back at her apartment. The nearest phone was on the kitchen counter. The last thing she wanted to do was get up from the sofa, but there was no way that she would be napping with Leyla today. Her thoughts whirled. The need to act, to do something, burned inside her, but she had no idea what that something might be. What could she possibly do, except be prepared in case whoever had come after Leyla tried again?
She froze. Would they do that? Try again? It seemed improbable, almost absurd, but she supposed it depended on why they had wanted her daughter in the first place. If they were organized, some kind of group that sold babies to desperate couples who longed for a child, or to pedophiles for their depravity, then certainly they wouldn’t risk making a second try for the same child. The police were involved. To try again would be foolish.
But Cait could not pretend to understand the kind of people who would abduct an infant, so she would be on her guard.
Who are you kidding? You’ll be on your guard for the rest of your life.
She stood and carried the baby into the kitchen. The phone lay on the counter, discarded by whoever had used it last—George, getting a call from Jane when the EMTs were patching her up? Cait picked it up and dialed Sean’s cell number. She had needed to take care of Leyla first, to calm herself down, reassuring them both that everything would be all right. Now, though, she wanted to talk to her brother.
“Hello?” a man answered. The voice did not belong to Sean McCandless.
“Um, hi? Who is this?” she said.
“Can I help you?” the voice asked.
“You can help by telling me who you are and why you’re answering Sean McCandless’s phone.”
The pause angered her. It had to be one of Sean’s friends, either being presumptuous or trying to be funny, but Cait had little patience for anything today.
“If you’ll tell me who’s calling, I’ll pass along the message, and someone will get back to you within twenty-four hours,” the man said. From his voice, she guessed he was fairly young—early thirties, maybe—and not entirely used to stonewalling.
“This is Caitlin McCandless, Sean’s sister. Look, all right, you won’t tell me who you are. I get it. Secrets are part of his life, but I really, really need to talk to my brother. Is he away again? Is he going to be gone long?”
The pause again, and then a kind of sigh.
“Yes, he’s away again. Someone will get back to you within twenty-four hours.”
“Please. It’s really important,” she said.
One thing she had never gotten used to about cell phones was that, unlike conventional phones, there was no click when the call became disconnected, only that strange, flat nothing. Sometimes it took her a few seconds to realize that the line had gone dead. This time, she felt sure that the man had not hung up right away. Seconds went by.
“Hello?”
And now she heard that flatness, that nothingness. The call had ended. Maybe she had been mistaken and he had hung up after his last reply, and not been listening to her breathe.
She ought to call Sean’s friend Brian Herskowitz. Sean had always said if she had an emergency when he was away, she could reach him that way. But the man on the phone had said someone would get back to her tomorrow, and Sean had not told her he was going away … had not given her the usual instructions to call Hercules. Maybe he was only gone for the day.
More troubled than ever, wishing for the soothing sound of her brother’s voice, she carried Leyla back to the sofa. They lay down together and, though Cait was confident that her anxiety would keep her awake, she fell asleep within minutes, curled protectively around her baby, guarding her, even in her dreams.
The creak of the screen door woke her.
Cait inhaled sharply as she pushed herself up on one elbow. Leyla had already begun to stir, a bit of drool on her chin, so she didn’t worry about waking the baby. Instead she scooped her up from the sofa and stood by the coffee table, tensed to run. But then the front door swung inward, and Uncle George entered, keys jangling in his hand. He reached back to help Auntie Jane into the house.
“You have a concussion,” he chided her.
“Caitlin?” Jane called, even as she turned to look through the doorway to the living room.
“I’m here,” Cait said, hurrying toward them, even as Leyla stretched and yawned in her arms, beginning to scramble upright and looking around.
“I hoped you would be,” Jane said. She smiled and reached for Leyla. “How’s my sweetie doing?”
As Jane took the baby, Cait wiped her own mouth, realizing that Leyla hadn’t been the only one to drool in her sleep. She smiled to herself.
“She’s fine. We just woke up from a nap. More important, how are you? You have a concussion?”
George dropped his keys on a little table in the front hall. “A mild concussion, but that doesn’t mean she can ignore the doctor,” he said, even as he reached out to take Leyla from his wife. “You need rest, Jane. I’m going to insist.”
Jane smiled and made a little pout, but she let George have the baby. Cait liked seeing her uncle with Leyla. He looked like the sort of man who wouldn’t know what to do with a baby, but when he held Leyla he seemed to soften.
“Go up and lie down,” he said to his wife. “I’ll fix you some lunch.”
But Jane wasn’t quite ready to be still. As tired as she looked, and in spite of the cuts and bruises and swelling on her face—which had gone down quite a bit, thankfully—she turned to Cait.
“What about you and Leyla? Have you two eaten anything?”
Cait had started to shake her head before the first word was out of her aunt’s mouth. “No way. I wanted to stay and make sure you were all right, but I’m not putting any more burdens on you. You’ve had a hellish day. I can feed Leyla at home. I’m going to change her diaper, and then we’re out of here.”
Jane frowned. “Caitlin, really, I—”
“Need rest,” George finished emphatically. But he held Leyla to him as though he did not want to relinquish her. “Caitie, Jane’s not the only one who’s had a hell of a day. And you had quite a night last night as well. I hate the idea of you and Leyla being back at your apartment alone, and I’d be happy to make lunch for all of us.” He turned to his wife. “But one way or another, Jane, you are going upstairs right now.”
“I couldn’t,” Cait said quickly. “Really, we’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure,” George said.
Jane smiled at him, her bruises making her wince. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” George replied. “Now go.”
He kissed her forehead, and then Jane bent to kiss Leyla. “We’ll have to play tomorrow,” she told the baby.
“No way,” Cait said. “You relax tomorrow. I’ll come by first thing Tuesday morning with coffee and bagels. Turns out I have the day off.”
“All right,” Jane said. “Tuesday it is.”
Cait gave her a little hug and then watched as she went up the stairs, holding the railing with every step.
“She’s going to be fine as long as she rests,” George reassured her, once Jane was out of earshot.
“She deserves a long rest, and anything in the world she could ever wish for,” Cait said, turning to her uncle. She watched Leyla playing in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Uncle George.”
“You didn’t do anything, Cait. And I don’t want to hear sorry again.”
Cait took Leyla from him. “A fresh diaper for my baby girl,” she said, “and then we’re gone.”