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MARISA STARED IN SILENCE at the scene in front of her, hardly seeing it.
Nate had kissed her. And she'd kissed him back. And she'd liked it.
What kind of mother thinks of romance when her daughter is missing? If she never got Ana back, could she ever open her heart to anyone again? Eight years had passed since Vinnie died. She hadn't kissed a man, hadn't even been on a date, in eight years. And then Nate had walked into her life, and she suddenly felt like a foolish schoolgirl.
While her daughter was missing. While her sister rested in a morgue.
But Nate had been with her through it all. He'd held her while she'd cried, strengthened her when she'd been on the verge of crumbling to pieces, and dug into the truth with her, for her, to find a little girl he barely knew. This thing with Nate didn't feel like some random romance. It felt like...like safety.
Kissing Nate hadn't been about fun or even escape from the evil reality she was living. Kissing Nate had felt as natural as crying for Ana. Nate felt like home.
How she'd love to ponder a future with him, the three of them living here, skipping rocks in the lake, tucking Ana into bed, reading her a book together. She'd love to dream about a safe world for the three of them.
A cloud covered the sun, and the breeze increased. She crossed her arms and shivered, thankful Nate couldn't read her thoughts.
"You want to walk?" he asked. "It would warm us up a little."
The last thing she needed was to spend more time alone with him.
She turned, looked around, and sighed. "I don't have the energy."
Nate led her to the door, his arm still lightly around her back, as if she might collapse at any moment. Or maybe as if he didn't want to let her go any more than she wanted him to.
And there she went again. She couldn't help those thoughts. She felt connected to Nate. It was wrong, and if the worst happened, she'd never forgive herself. But she didn't have the will to fight it right now.
Inside, she slipped off her coat and draped it on the hook near the back door. Somebody had cleaned the kitchen. She should have done that. They probably all thought she was the laziest houseguest ever. She just couldn't seem to think of anything but Ana.
And Nate, apparently.
She sighed and pushed the thought away. Brady and Sam were seated in the living room. Rae was feeding little Johnny in his car seat, which she'd set on the kitchen table. The adults had been talking but quieted when Nate and Marisa walked in. The only sounds came from little Johnny, happy sounds that belied the situation.
"Beautiful out there," Nate said. "But chilly."
Rae scraped green baby food off Johnny's chin with the tiny spoon. "No news yet?"
He shook his head and met Marisa's eyes. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine." She couldn't look at Johnny. He reminded her too much of her own daughter. She settled onto the love seat, slipped off her shoes, and pulled her feet up beneath her.
"Coffee would warm you up," Nate suggested.
He was always thoughtful. "I'll make it."
"You look comfortable. Let me." He was in the kitchen before she could protest.
The others made small talk until Nate returned with two cups of fresh coffee. She sipped hers, tasted the sugar, and smiled at him. Perfect.
Brady leaned forward. "Nate, you think we could use this Jessica woman to draw the kidnapper out. What's your plan?"
Nate sat beside Marisa. "Jessica said Rick is really attached to Hunter. I thought if she could tell him Hunter was hurt or injured, maybe even up here, we could get him to come up—"
"To Nutfield?" Brady asked, eyebrows raised.
"Well, you're here, and I thought—"
"You want to bring a murderer to my town?"
"To catch him, yeah," Nate said. "I thought we could set a trap."
"I think it's a good idea," Sam said.
"You would," Brady said.
In the kitchen, Rae sighed, and Marisa almost smiled at their predictability. Brady and Sam seemed close enough to be siblings.
Rae cleaned her son's face with a washcloth. "Nate, the problem is, how do we guarantee he'll bring Ana? If he doesn't and something happens to him—"
"We'd never find her." The thought had Marisa's hands trembling. She set her mug down.
"I hadn't quite worked that out yet," Nate said. "I can't imagine how he'd leave her unattended."
"It's not like he's going for parent of the year," Rae said. "He could tie her up."
"Or lock her in a closet," Brady suggested.
Marisa stifled a sob, and Nate took her hand. He met her eyes. "I'm sure he's taking good care of her. Remember what Brady said? Most people, the vast majority of people, treat children with tenderness and care."
Yes, but Rick was a murderer. She swallowed and looked down. Nate was sweet to try to alleviate her fears, but she knew the truth. There was no way to know if Ana was being cared for, or if she was even still alive.
How could Marisa go on, never knowing the truth? Suddenly, the fields of bones in Mexico and the volunteers who combed through them made sense to her. God, please...
Rae settled in next to Brady, the baby over her shoulder. "Sorry, Marisa. We're just—"
"It's okay." She met Rae's eyes. "I understand."
Rae patted Johnny's back. "Chances are good we could set a trap for him. We could get him to tell us where Ana is."
"The cops could get the DA to reduce his sentence," Sam said.
"So he doesn't pay for Leslie's death?" Marisa slid her feet to the floor and sat up straighter. "He gets away with what he did?"
"Not completely," Sam said. "It's not like they'd set him free. And you'd get your daughter back."
Marisa would do anything, agree to anything, to get Ana back.
"We may not have another choice," Nate said. "This can't go on much longer."
Marisa turned to Nate. "Why don't we set a trap for him when we're supposed to make the exchange? He'd definitely have Ana with him."
"But we lose the element of surprise," Nate said. "He'll be expecting that. But if he came up here to see Jessica, he wouldn't be expecting us."
"It's a risk," Brady said.
Nate ran his hand over his curly hair. "Whatever we do, it's a risk. I've been round and round this same line of reasoning all night. There are no guarantees."
No guarantees. Marisa tried to imagine a scenario where Ana was returned to her, safe. Unscarred. She pictured setting a trap, somewhere near here. Pictured a trade. A thousand images, possible scenarios, flitted through her mind. But in not one of them did Ana emerge alive and healthy.
"You need to get the police involved," Brady said.
His words seemed to come from far away as more thoughts assaulted Marisa. Her daughter and that...that evil man. What was he doing to her? Maybe the best scenario would be that her daughter was locked in a closet. Maybe at least then he wouldn't hurt her. But her sweet pajarita, afraid of the dark, crying and alone.
Nate twisted to look into Marisa's eyes. "Hey, why don't you go lie down for a while?"
She tried to shake the fears off, though the awful images wouldn't go away that easily. "I'm fine." She glanced at the coffee. No way she could pick it up without spilling it everywhere. She focused on Brady. "No cops. Please."
"Your choice, but..."
Nate's phone rang. He slipped it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. "It's Julio." He held the phone to her, but she shook her head. "Put it on speaker. I can't think. I need you guys to hear."
Nate did and then set the phone on the coffee table. Marisa answered.
"He wasn't there," Julio said in Spanish.
"Can we speak English? My friends are here."
"Okay." He shifted the language. "I knocked, and nobody answered. I gave it a few minutes, but when nobody came, I let myself in."
Brady's frown told them what he thought of that. Marisa didn't care. "Did you see any sign of my daughter, any clues—?"
"I took many photos. The place was pretty clean. There were two bedrooms. The master bedroom was normal. But the other one he used as an office. Lots of photographs of a young boy in there. Also, a lot of information about a company called G&K, newspaper clippings, financial statements, stuff like that."
"That makes sense," Marisa said. "This whole thing goes back to that scandal."
"I didn't see anything that made me think a kid was there."
Marisa's heart sank.
"Except the stuff in the trash can." Julio sounded curious suddenly. "See, the guy's kind of a health food nut. Had all sorts of grains and seeds and crap. Even had kale in the fridge. And those fruit drinks that health food stores sell. But in the trash, there are wrappers from those frosted things that go in the toaster, and more wrappers from packaged cookies. Oh, and a spent cup and napkins from an ice cream shop.
Marisa turned to Nate. His eyes were as wide as hers must be. Ana had told them she'd had ice cream. "They were there."
"Yeah," Julio continued, "looks like it. And there's one scrap of paper. I mean, this is why I shred everything. It's amazing what you can learn from a trash can."
Brady's eyes narrowed.
"What was on the paper?" Nate asked.
"Maybe an apartment?" He rattled off an address. "I checked it on my phone. It's in Chelsea."
Chelsea. Marisa and Nate looked at each other again.
Brady said, "What?"
Nate shook his head and nodded to the phone.
"Can you read that address again?"
Julio did, and Nate and Rae wrote it down. Sam typed on her laptop.
"Otherwise, the apartment was just what you'd expect. I will send you the photos."
"That'd be..." Marisa's voice faltered as something rose in her heart. Hope. She swallowed. "You've helped us so much, Julio. How can I ever thank you?"
"No need to thank me. A friend of Ramón's is a friend of mine. Call if you need anything else."
She disconnected the call and looked at Nate.
"Well?" Brady said.
"Leslie's body was found in Chelsea."
Brady slapped his thigh, started to stand, but settled back down. He looked across the table at Marisa. "We have to call the police. They can raid that place and get your daughter back now. Like in the next few minutes."
She turned to Nate, who nodded and said, "It's the best plan."
The police. If Rick found out she'd gotten them involved, would he kill Ana? But if they didn't involve the police, he could be gone before she and Nate were able to get there. And even if they could get there, what were they going to do? Go in, guns blazing? She didn't even know how to shoot a gun.
"Marisa?" Nate's voice was so patient and tender.
She looked at Brady. "Okay. Call the police."
Marisa felt like, if she did anything to disrupt the moment, it would all fall apart.
This could be it. They could find Ana. Soon.
Brady stood and pulled his phone from his pocket.
If it went well, Richard Gray could be arrested in the next few minutes. If it went well, Ana could be released, and it could all be over.
If the address led them to Richard.
If Richard was there.
If that's where he was keeping Ana.
Too many if's.
Maybe in a few minutes, Marisa would learn that Ana was safe and sound, had indeed been well cared for. Or maybe she'd discover she'd lost her daughter the way she'd lost her sister and her mother and her father and Vinnie.
Nate's phone chimed, then again, and again.
He picked it up and tapped the screen. "Photos from Julio." He shifted so she could see. She turned toward the screen, though she felt nearly in a trance with fear and anticipation.
Nate took her hand. "It's going to be okay."
"How do you know?"
He shrugged. "Hope." He nudged her shoulder with his. "Let's see these photos." He scrolled through the pictures. The apartment looked just like Julio had said. He'd snapped a few of the boy in photos in Rick's office.
"Hunter," Marisa said.
"I thought so," Nate said.
He scrolled through more. An ordinary bed, an ordinary kitchen, an ordinary living room. Nobody would guess a murderer lived there.
Ana had been there.
They got to the photos of the trash. A Ben and Jerry's cup and crumpled napkins. There was the photograph of the paper with the scrawled address. It had a brown smudge on it. Chocolate ice cream, presumably.
Ana loved chocolate.
And just like that, they had something to go on.
Nate reached the end of the pictures. "I didn't see anything else, did you?"
She shook her head. "I haven't had Ben and Jerry's in years."
"I'll get you some."
She'd like that. Maybe. With Ana.
Rae scooted over to see what Sam was looking at on her laptop. She pointed at the screen and looked at Marisa.
"Want to see?"
"What is it?"
"The apartment building," Sam said. "I can't get pictures of that exact unit, but I found another unit in the same building for rent."
Marisa nodded, and Sam stood and rounded the coffee table. She knelt beside Marisa on the floor and turned the laptop to face her.
On the screen, Marisa saw what looked like an average red brick building. Six stories. Nothing remarkable at all.
She thought of the moment they'd been driving from Manhattan to White Plains, of all the buildings. Structure after structure. Millions of corners and alleys and rooms. She'd believed they'd never find her daughter. Yet, somehow, they'd located Rick's hideaway.
It seemed like...like a miracle or something. If only Ana would be there, safe and sound.
Sam placed a hand on her knee. "I'm still praying. Constantly praying. We have to trust God."
Marisa had been praying, too, desperate for help from somewhere, anywhere. Would God help her now? Maybe not for her sake, but for innocent little Ana's? She could only hope.
Sam clicked the laptop. "This is a different apartment in the building." She scrolled through the pictures.
Empty rooms. Wood floors, old appliances. White walls. Few windows.
There were probably closets just big enough for a four-year-old, though the pictures didn't show them.
When they reached the end, Sam closed the laptop. "I don't know if it helps, but..."
"It does." Marisa covered her mouth to hold in the emotion. "If that's where she's been kept... I mean, who knows how the man has...what he's done. But that place looks normal."
"It's kind of dingy," Sam said.
Marisa couldn't help her laugh. "You should see my house in Mexico. That"—she nodded at the closed laptop—"that was luxurious. They had a microwave and everything."
She chuckled again and looked at Nate. "What's wrong with me?"
"You know we're close. We're finally close. I can feel it."
Brady stepped back inside, phone to his ear. "Yeah. As soon as you..." He listened, gave Marisa a thumbs-up, and turned toward the kitchen, speaking into the phone. "Promise me. The second you know anything." He paused again. "Okay, thanks." He ended the call.
"Garrison's on it. Coordinating with his partner, and they're working with the NYPD. They should know something soon."
"If only we could see what's happening," Marisa said.
Sam tilted her head to one side. "Hmm. We could if we—"
"You're not hacking the NSA." Brady glared at her, and she laughed.
"I was just kidding." She turned to Marisa. "I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to redirect a satellite."
Brady's heavy sigh made Marisa giggle. Nerves, she knew.
"One of these days, you're going to get caught." Brady sat beside his wife. He set his cell phone on the coffee table.
Sam batted her eyelashes. "Will you testify at my trial? Tell them I only use my powers for good?"
He cracked a smile.
Little Johnny leaned toward his father, and Brady pulled him into his lap and lifted him in the air over his head.
"I wouldn't do that," Rae said. "He just ate."
Brady set the boy on his lap. "Good point." He turned his attention to Marisa. "How you holding up?"
"Am I holding up? I'm not sure."
"You're doing great." He bounced Johnny, whose squeals of delight filled the room.
Marisa stared at the boy's pretty face. She'd heard enough of the story to know Johnny wasn't Brady's son—not by blood, anyway. That was clear in the kid's caramel coloring. He had some of his mother's features, but Rae's fair freckled skin and red hair weren't among them. But in every way that mattered, Johnny was Brady's son. Like Ana was Marisa's daughter.
The baby giggled and cooed, and Marisa couldn't help but smile.
"When did you adopt Ana?" Rae asked.
She forced her attention away from the baby. "I've had her almost since she was born. But the adoption's not final yet. Who knows when it will be? Assuming I even go back to Mexico. Now that we're out, the government won't miss one little girl."
Sam returned to her chair. "Really? Won't somebody report her missing?"
"Only Carlita cares enough about any of the orphans to miss her, to even know she exists, and she's complained more than I have about how long it's taking. It's a strange situation—an American adopting a Mexican, but not taking her back to America. I think they're trying to figure out how to get more money out of me."
"There's not like a set fee or something?" Sam asked.
Marisa couldn't help the chuckle. "There's really not a set anything in Mexico. Everything's up in the air."
"And who's Carlita?" Rae asked.
"She runs the orphanage where I work. She's a saint. Truly."
"And a friend?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. My closest friend there."
Rae asked, "When did you decide to adopt Ana?"
Marisa returned her attention to Rae. She appreciated them trying to make small talk. Maybe it was helping. "She was left on the doorstep when she was an infant. She weighed about six pounds that day. And the first time I held her, I knew. She was mine."
"Was there a waiting list or something?" Sam asked.
Marisa shook her head. "Nobody even knew she existed. She came with nothing but a piece of paper tucked beneath her bottom that said her name was Marifer Ana Elbertina."
"Elbertina—that's her last name?" Sam asked. "Could you not find her family—?"
"That's a given name." Marisa laughed at Sam's grimace. "Not the prettiest first name in the world. And maybe it's a last name, too. I don't know. Didn't matter, though. Her family didn't want her. Probably couldn't feed her. They left her at the orphanage for a reason."
"Did you ever fear they'd come back for her?"
"It's a small village. Whoever left her wasn't from there. If she had been, we would have known, you know? Somebody's pregnant one day, not pregnant the next, and there's no child... You just know. But that didn't happen to anybody in our village. Whoever it was had probably heard of Carlita's kindness and dropped her off. I never worried her mother would come back to claim her, and even if she did"—Marisa shrugged—"she didn't really have any claim on the child, did she? At the orphanage, we have a lot of children whose parents brought them because they can't feed them. We care for the kids, make sure they go to school, but their parents are still involved. Ana's mother clearly didn't care about keeping in contact." Marisa sighed. "Truth is, I never worried, because from that first moment, Ana felt like my child. I hardly ever think about her birth parents. Now, I wonder what they'd think of me, putting their child in danger—"
"This isn't your fault." Nate leaned forward and faced her. "You didn't do this."
She wanted to believe him. Marisa had thought they were safe in Mexico. And they had been. Until Leslie had drawn her out.
She looked at Brady, who looked at the phone on the table in front of him.
Marisa stared at it, too. Willed it to ring.
A minute passed with no sounds but little Johnny's cooing.
She couldn't stand it any longer. She leaned forward. "Why haven't they called?"
"It's only been a few minutes," Brady said.
Nate wrapped his arm around her back, and she settled against him.
The clock ticked, the baby cooed, and the phone remained silent.
A hundred years passed.
And then, it rang.