Chapter Twelve

Rebekka was two minutes late meeting André in the lobby of the chosen hotel because she had to stop and get some lunch, knowing if she didn’t, she’d become so sick that she wouldn’t be able to get through the meeting with Benny-the-baby-seller.

“Are you all right?” André asked, coming toward her and taking her hands. He bent toward her and Rebekka expected him to kiss her cheeks, but instead his lips brushed hers, sending an electric shock throughout her body. “Hello, honey,” he said loudly. “I was worried you couldn’t find the place.”

“I did have a little trouble with traffic,” she said, catching on. They weren’t in the room with Benny yet, but they were already in their role as husband and wife.

André’s eyes wandered over her face, and he gave her a sympathetic grin, squeezing her hands. “Let’s go on up, then.” He kept hold of her hand as they headed toward the elevator, and Rebekka was intensely aware of his presence.

Rebekka’s eyes noted the atmosphere of the hotel—crystal chandeliers, leather furniture, live plants in ceramic containers, and gold trim on the walls and ceilings. This was not the nicest hotel in town but obviously a good one. The surrounding comfort, however, dimmed in comparison with her nervousness.

Because of Benny, she told herself. It has nothing to do with André holding my hand.

Once the doors of the elevators closed and they were alone, Rebekka shook her hand free on the pretense of checking her makeup in her compact.

“You look great,” he said. “A little pale, maybe. Have you been sick this morning?”

“No, I’m fine.” Then she rushed on, “About the flowers . . . I didn’t look at the card . . . uh, before I called.”

An unidentifiable look passed like a shadow over his face. “I figured that much.”

“Well, thanks for bringing them in and setting them on the table. How did you get in my apartment yesterday anyway?”

The bell chimed and the doors slowly swung open. André reached for her hand again. “So . . . who sent them?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“A guy I work with—Samuel.”

There was a tightening in his cheek and jaw muscles. “Isn’t he the guy you nearly married when you lived in Utah?”

“I didn’t nearly marry him. I was only thinking about seriously dating him.”

“Sounds like the same thing to me.”

She was about to reply when he added in a whisper, “We’d better talk later. It’s show time.”

She nodded and let him lead her down the hall. Her heart thundered in her chest as they stood before room 410 and knocked. What if Benny wasn’t there? What if he didn’t have Nadia? The tumult of question made it difficult to think clearly.

A short balding man answered the door. “Hello, I’m Benny Tovik.” He was big without being grossly fat, and his clothes were dated—at least ten years out of style. The gold ring on his finger and the thick gold chain around his neck looked real, but Rebekka couldn’t be certain.

Benny-the-big-bald-baby-seller, she thought fleetingly. This is all just too unreal. She took a deep breath and pushed the unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind. A mistake now could cost them Nadia.

“Hello, we’re the Perraults,” André said, pumping the man’s hand. “André and Rebekka.”

“Come in, come in.”

Then Benny was shaking Rebekka’s hand, vigorously up and down. He was shorter than she was by at least a head, and she had a great view of the thinning hair surrounding the shining circle on the top of his head. She had to gently tug her hand from his, hoping her fake smile hadn’t slipped. His touch was like grease that seem to cling to her hand long after he’d let go.

Desirée had told Raoul that Benny was American, but he didn’t look like any of the Americans Rebekka knew. In fact, with his coloring and facial structure, he looked typically French to her, though shorter than the average.

“Please have a seat.” He indicated chairs next to a round table.

No American accent, she noted, forgetting for a moment that the hidden microphones would record that fact.

When they were seated, Benny leaned forward in his chair. “Well, I’ve studied the personal information you sent and made a few calls. Everything seems in order, but I’ll need to check your ID.”

They had planned for this. Reaching across the table, they showed the identity cards their investigator had made, and André also took out his driver’s license. Rebekka murmured something about neglecting to bring her license so Benny wouldn’t realize that her address wasn’t the same as her “husband’s.”

As he studied the cards, Rebekka looked around the room, noting the double bed, the TV set on a sturdy coffee table, the framed painting of the Eiffel Tower, and the gold-and-white wall paper. Set in an alcove, there was also a microwave on a counter next to a small sink and refrigerator. A large window with heavy tapestry shades completed the layout. Not deluxe accommodations by any means but decidedly better than most rooms she’d seen in her travels.

“Very good,” Benny said, handing back the cards.

“Uh . . .” André cleared his throat. “We’d like to see ID, too, if you don’t mind.”

Rebekka didn’t think Benny would like that, but he whipped out a blue passport from his shirt pocket. “Sure thing. I’m American, you see. That’s how I get around so well to find children who need to be adopted. With an American passport, the world is completely open.”

Rebekka nodded in agreement, though she suspected the passport was a fake. If he was American, wouldn’t he have at least a slight accent?

“So you want a girl baby, do you?” Benny asked.

They nodded. “Between about two and three months old,” André said. “We’ve heard that most infant deaths occur before two months, so we want to make sure the baby’s healthy.” This was something Raoul had come up with last night to make sure the baby would be around Nadia’s age.

Benny picked up a briefcase under the table and withdrew a notepad from it and jotted something down. “Anything else?”

“Well, it may sound stupid . . .” Rebekka began.

“Go on. I assure you, I have heard it all.”

“We wanted the baby to look like us. You know, dark hair, dark eyes—either gray or brown—and white skin.”

Benny frowned. “How white are we talking—Norwegian white?”

“No,” Rebekka said. “My husband’s family does have a bit of olive tones, so that would be okay, but we’d like her to look French. I know that may sound silly, but I don’t want people guessing she’s adopted. We plan to keep it a secret.”

Benny consulted his list. “Would red hair be an option? You have red.”

“My wife’s hair is really a very dark auburn,” André broke in. “Almost brown. So if it’s really dark, that’d be fine, but not bright red or red-blonde. That would be too much difference.”

“I see.” Frowning, Benny tapped the end of the pen on his wide chin. Rebekka was sure he’d seen right through their charade and would call them on it, but instead he said. “I think I might be able to help you, but it”—he cleared his throat—“will require a fee above the amount we already discussed. I actually do have such a baby available, a baby with dark brown hair, but I was going to give her to another couple who have been waiting a lot longer than you. To bump you ahead will require a rush fee.”

“How much?” they said in unison.

Benny lifted the page he was writing on, wrote something on the paper beneath, then ripped it off, folded it and passed it to André. When he unfolded it, Rebekka caught sight of a lot of zeros. It really didn’t make a difference. They would agree to pay anything if it helped them find Nadia.

“It’ll take me a while to get this money,” André said hesitantly. “A few days . . . maybe a week.”

“I’ll need half in three days and another half when we sign the contract. And we must sign the contract before I turn over the baby.”

“Could I see her?” Rebekka didn’t have to fake the eagerness in her voice. “I mean, when we pay the first half? We’ll want to see that she’s . . .”

“What I promised, eh?” Benny chuckled. “I’ll do you one better.” He reached into his briefcase and withdrew a cell phone. “You can see her right now.”

Rebekka exchanged a surprised glance with André. This was more than either had hoped for.

Minutes later a nondescript woman with dark hair and swarthy skin knocked on the door. Benny didn’t greet her but snatched the small bundle she carried and settled it in Rebekka’s startled grasp.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. Then she murmured, “She’s beautiful.”

André put his arm around her and touched the baby’s soft cheeks. “Beautiful,” he echoed.

The baby was so tiny that Rebekka felt awkward holding her, fearing she might somehow damage the infant. At the same time the baby seemed to belong in her arms. Dark hair framed the small, perfectly proportioned face, blemished only by a minuscule flurry of red rashes on her forehead; and the eyes staring up at them were dark, though the exact color was difficult to determine. She had two miniature arms and legs and every finger was accounted for. She was absolutely perfect, and Rebekka loved her immediately.

Except for one thing: she wasn’t Nadia. Even though the newborn picture Raoul had of Nadia wasn’t very clear, and Nadia would have changed drastically since it had been taken, this baby’s eyes were much wider set, the shape of her face too round, and her skin was a shade too dark to be Desirée and Raoul’s daughter. Tears leaked from Rebekka’s eyes. She so wanted this to be her niece.

Lifting her face to André’s, she saw that he also knew the child wasn’t the one they were searching for. “Isn’t she a little young?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” Benny assured them with emphatic waving of his hand. “She’s two months old. Born a week premature, but in perfect health.” He reached for the baby, but Rebekka stepped away.

“Just a minute more . . . please?”

Benny nodded, and she sat on the edge of the double bed with the baby while the men talked. The woman who had brought the baby stood placidly by the door, her fleshy face showing no emotion. Rebekka bet she wasn’t the baby’s mother. No mother would be able to stand by so stoically and watch another woman buy her child. The woman was likely someone who was paid to watch the baby while Benny did business.

Big business, Rebekka thought, remembering the zeros. Enough to buy several nice apartments.

So who loved this baby? There had to be someone. Benny was obviously doing everything he could to profit from the child’s existence. Rebekka could only hope the mother of the baby had given her daughter up willingly. I wouldn’t be able to do so, Rebekka thought. She’s too precious.

Was that why Desirée had kept Nadia so long without telling Raoul? Had even she felt a connection to her baby?

At least Nadia has us searching for her. I wonder if anyone cares where this child ends up.

An idea formed in her mind. “Ah, Benny?” she said. “The baby—I think she needs a diaper change. Could I . . .?”

Benny laughed, and for a moment Rebekka imagined seeing dollars signs in his eyes. He motioned to the woman who fished into her bag and brought out a diaper and a small tub of wipes. She put them on the bed and then returned to her post by the door.

André came to stand by the bed, but Rebekka flashed him an intent stare, willing him to keep Benny occupied. “I can do this, honey,” she said. “Why don’t you work out the final details with Benny?” Then for a drama’s sake, she added, “We will be able to get the money, won’t we? She’s so perfect!”

André blinked at her once and Rebekka wondered if she’d overacted. Role-playing had never been her strong suit. But he smiled and turned back to Benny.

Rebekka laid the baby on the bed next to the diaper. She put her own purse nearby, purposefully spilling the contents. “Oops,” she said, laughing as self-consciously as she knew how. “Well, I can pick it up in a minute,” she cooed to the baby. “You come first.”

She knelt next to the bed, unsnapped the baby’s one-piece outfit, and pulled out her legs. She wore yellow and pink striped socks underneath. “We’d better take off those socks so I don’t accidentally get them dirty.” Her feet were tiny and perfect, except for the skin that was flaking off.

Wasn’t flaking skin the sign of a much younger infant? Rebekka wished she knew more about babies. “My goodness, little one, you are so tiny and look at those little feet. They look good enough to eat!” The baby smiled briefly. Rebekka knew that probably said something about her age as did the completely healed belly-button, but she wasn’t sure what.

She had changed enough diapers to know how it was done, but never on such a small baby. Her problem was getting the tapes tight enough. “There, I think that’s it,” she said, rolling the old diaper tightly so Benny and the woman wouldn’t know it hadn’t been messy after all. “We’d better get your socks back on.”

Using her spilled purse as a shield, she wiped her compact off on the bed before taking the baby’s foot and planting it on top. Then she quickly redressed the baby. “There, all done,” she said a minute later. It nearly broke her heart to give the baby back to Benny, but the infant didn’t seem to mind.

“In two days we’ll meet again,” Benny said. “I’ll e-mail you to tell you the place and time, okay?”

“Take good care of her,” Rebekka told him.

Benny grinned. “Oh, we will. We always do. And soon she’ll be with you forever.” He motioned to the door.

Rebekka shook her head. “My purse. It spilled on the bed.”

“Well, we’ll just go ahead of you,” Benny said. “See you in two days.” He pumped Rebekka’s hand and then André’s and started for the door. The woman, once again holding the baby, followed.

Rebekka’s hand felt greasy from Benny’s touch, and crossing to the bed, she wiped her hand on a tissue from her purse. “Does the man ever wash his hands?” she wondered aloud. She gathered up her things and put them into her purse—except for the compact which she cradled carefully in her hand.

“What’s that for?” André asked.

“I got the baby’s footprint.”

“She wasn’t Nadia. I’d bet that baby’s at least a month too young.”

“I know, but maybe someone’s looking for her.”

He sighed. “Or maybe the mother needs money.”

She shrugged. “It was something I had to do. If anything, it will prove to Raoul that she wasn’t Nadia.”

Her cell phone rang as they emerged from the elevator into the lobby. “It’s Raoul.” She clicked to answer. “Hello?”

“We got enough for the police to get involved,” Raoul said, sounding jubilant. “Probably even arrest him. I’ve got the recording, and the investigator is following Benny. Can you meet me at the police station? They’ll want to ask you a few questions.”

“Wait, Raoul. It wasn’t Nadia. I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “I figured as much when you said she looked young. Anyway, at least the police can look into him. He could still have Nadia.”

They drove separately to the police station, and after a fifteen-minute wait, Raoul and two police officers came to look for them in the lobby. Raoul hugged Rebekka.

“I’m so sorry that it wasn’t her,” she whispered. “But I got the baby’s footprint to be sure.” She handed the compact to the older of the two officers. He passed it to his partner, who nodded and left, presumably to get it analyzed.

“I’m Detective Francom,” said the older officer, shaking Rebekka’s hand with a firm grasp. His square face was kind, his dark hair sprinkled with fine strands of silver hair. He was as tall as André but even more broad across the shoulders, reminding Rebekka of a boxer or a weight-lifter. “Why don’t you come into my office for a moment?”

They followed him into a small room where four hard-backed chairs sat in front of a wide desk. “Thank you for what you did today,” Francom said when everyone was seated. “I believed Raoul from the first, and I’m happy we can finally go after this guy. You won’t need to be involved further.”

Rebekka swallowed hard. “But we told Benny we’d see him in two days. Do we tell him we backed out?”

“What about the baby?” André added.

Detective Francom’s blue eyes gave Rebekka the impression of missing nothing. “We’ll get him before your meeting. This morning we had a visit from another couple who appears to have been talking with this same guy about adopting a baby. They met with him this morning, but after the meeting, they got cold feet and came in to make sure he was legit. When they explained how they found him, I recognized that he was man who might be involved in Nadia’s disappearance. Unfortunately, this couple is already out a lot of money—nearly their entire life savings.”

“That’s terrible,” André said.

“Well, with your testimony and theirs, we now have enough to arrest him. In fact, we’ve got officers meeting up with your investigator as we speak.” Francom shuffled a stack of reports on his desk. “Hopefully, we’ll get the baby, too, though we may never discover who the child belongs to.”

“I got her footprint,” Rebekka said.

“That will help if she was born in a hospital, but she might have been born on the streets. It may be impossible to find her parents.”

Rebekka sighed, feeling suddenly ill. “I had no idea it’d be that hard.”

“Where does this leave us with Nadia?” Raoul asked.

The detective shook his head. “From the other couple’s description of the child they saw, Benny used the same baby for both meetings. She was even wearing the same clothes the baby wore in the video you gave me.”

“You mean he was going to sell the same baby to two different families?” Rebekka didn’t know why she found that so shocking, given the man’s character.

“Probably more than that. The point is that I don’t think he’d show both families the same baby if he had another one.”

Raoul frowned. “Then we’re back to square one.”

Rebekka put a hand on Raoul’s shoulder to comfort him. Then she snapped her fingers and looked at Detective Francom. “Wait a minute. Do you have anything on a woman named Lana? She lives in Desirée’s apartment building and a boy there said they were friends. Said she drinks a lot, too. That the police had picked her up a few times. You would have a record of that, wouldn’t you?”

The reactions around her were vastly different: Raoul immediately looked more hopeful, the detective thoughtful, and André angry.

André spoke first, his eyebrows furrowed so tightly that they stretched into one hairy line. “You went there. Alone?” He turned to Raoul. “You know what kind of a neighborhood that is, and you let her go? In her condition?”

“I didn’t let her go anywhere.” Raoul blinked in puzzlement. “And what do you mean ‘in her condition’? You make it sound like she’s . . . ” He stared at Rebekka. “Are you pregnant?”

With a dark look at André, Rebekka nodded. “I was going to tell you, but I . . . well, I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t lose the baby,” she finished lamely.

Raoul’s expression became thunderous. “I would never have let you meet with Benny if I’d known. Never! What if there’d been a problem and your baby was hurt?”

“Goodness, what was he going to do, throw me on the ground and jump on me?” she retorted. “Your investigator said he wasn’t dangerous, remember? Besides André was there.”

“Not this morning, I wasn’t,” André nearly yelled. “You could have asked me. I’d have gone with you.”

She clenched her fists at her side. “Then I probably wouldn’t have learned anything. People talked to me. They might not have to you.”

André opened his mouth to say something further when the detective raised his hand. “Since your wife is all right,” he said to André, “I think that perhaps we should concentrate on what she learned. I’m sure she’ll promise not to go back there again.”

Rebekka glared at him. “I will promise no such thing. And I am not this man’s wife.” She pointed a finger at André. “I am married to his brother.”

Raoul took her hand and eased it down from its accusatory position. “The detective has been very helpful, Rebekka. He’s doing his best.”

“I really am,” Detective Francom said. “Now how about you begin at the top and tell us what you learned?”

So Rebekka began with the young boy bouncing the ball on the steps. She left out her feelings of fear and her repulsion at the run-down apartment building. Most everyone had already been there and knew what the place was like; they didn’t need a reminder.

When she was finished, Detective Francom went to check on the name Lana to see if there was any connection. He was shaking his head on the way to the door. Did he wonder where her husband was, why she lived with her brother, and why André was so obsessed with her safety?

Let him wonder, Rebekka thought.

“So that’s what happened to your hubcaps,” André said. “I wondered. And in broad daylight. If you had gone at night . . .”

Her anger flared again. “I didn’t. That would be stupid. And as you can see, I’m fine.”

“That’s why you didn’t eat the cheeses,” Raoul said suddenly. “It is Marc’s. I mean, of course it’s Marc’s. Mom and Dad and the Perraults—they’re going to be so happy.”

“I’m going to be the one to tell them.” Rebekka scowled at André. “And only when I feel like it.”

André didn’t look repentant. “Raoul at least should know since he’s living with you.”

Detective Francom took that moment to reenter the room. “Good news. We picked up a woman named Lana last Friday. She was wasted, and not just on booze, and it’s taken her several days to come down. She hasn’t made bail yet, so we’re holding her for trial. They’re questioning her about Nadia now.”

“Can I talk to her?” Raoul asked, nearly tripping as he vaulted to his feet. “She might tell me something if she knows I’m Desirée’s husband.”

The detective frowned. “Let’s see what we get first.”

“I can wait.” Raoul folded his arms across his chest.

“So can I,” André added.

Rebekka glanced back and forth between the two men. André returned her gaze with a glare. “I hope someone is running our company,” she said pointedly. She turned to the detective. “Now where’s your bathroom? I’m about to be very sick.” She ran from his office in the direction he indicated, barely reaching the room in time.

When she emerged much later, André was waiting outside with a cup of water and a loaf of french bread. “Peace offering?” he said, extending the bread.

Rebekka accepted it gratefully and let him lead her to a chair in the hall. Taking a bite, she sighed heavily. “A little too much excitement, I think.”

He looked as though he was going to say something about her comment but decided against it. “Raoul is with that Lana character now.”

“He is? Already?”

“Apparently she wasn’t talking.”

Rebekka shoved a large chunk of bread into her mouth. “I want to see her too. Where are they?” She looked up and down the deserted hall.

“Not so fast! You’ll get sick again.”

“André,” she warned.

“Okay, come on. Eat as you walk.”

There was a lengthy delay before they were allowed into the room with Lana, and Rebekka took the opportunity to eat most of the bread and drink all of the water. At last, they were allowed in the questioning room where Detective Francom, Raoul, and a woman were sitting at a table. They looked up as Rebekka and André entered.

“Hi,” Rebekka ventured.

“She insisted on coming in,” André said by way of apology.

“That’s okay.” Detective Francom motioned them into chairs next to Raoul. “It can’t hurt. Please, have a seat.”

But Rebekka walked over to stand near the woman. “I’m Rebekka, Raoul’s sister. You must be Lana, Desirée’s friend.”

“How did you hear about me?” Lana said in a weary voice. Everything about her was weary and sagging, from her bleached blonde hair to the skin on her too-thin body. Her watery brown eyes were bloodshot and devoid of hope. She had the look of one who’d grown prematurely old from a life of drinking and drugs.

“Didn’t they tell you? I talked to a boy in front of your apartment building. About twelve. He was bouncing a small ball. He told me you were Desirée’s friend and that he sometimes watched Nadia.”

“Must be Henri. He’s always hanging ’round. But I don’t know where the baby is. I told them that. And I ain’t got to say more.”

Rebekka’s legs threatened to collapse. She eased herself into the chair next to Lana.

“Are you okay?” Raoul asked quickly.

“It’s the pregnancy,” André offered.

Rebekka ignored them and concentrated on Lana. “Look, Raoul didn’t even know that Nadia existed before last Saturday. Desirée didn’t tell him until she was missing. Desirée said she entrusted Nadia to her friend, and I think that friend was you.”

Lana’s only reply was a shrug.

“I informed her of all that before your brother was allowed in,” the detective said, briefly flexing his bulky shoulders. “She said she didn’t know anything about the baby. I hoped that seeing your brother would convince her to tell us what she knows, but she appears unwilling to help.”

“Did you ask her about Benny-the-baby-seller?”

The detective gave a slight grimace. “I was just about to.” He focused his attention on Lana, and she met his intent stare with one of her own. “Monsieur Massoni’s wife not only said she left the baby with a friend, but that the friend might have given her to a man named Benny Tovik. What do you say to that?” He smiled at her invitingly.

Lana’s lean chin jutted out an inch further, increasing her defensive posture. “I’d say that I don’t have to answer without a lawyer here. I know that much. I don’t care how strong you look or handsome you are, Monsieur Detective, your charm don’t work with me. So lay off.”

Rebekka saw Raoul’s emotions simmering and knew he was about ready to explode. “Look Lana,” she said, leaning toward the other woman. “You know what kind of a life Desirée lives. A baby needs more stability. We can give her that. We want to give her that. My brother is a wonderful man and a steady provider. You know that if you know anything about his relationship with Desirée. And my parents and I will be right there along with him to give Nadia everything she needs. I will raise my own child right along side her. Raoul has a right to know his daughter, and she has a right to know her father. Please help us.”

Lana didn’t reply, but her hard gaze swung back and forth between Raoul and Rebekka.

“Please,” Raoul implored. “I need my little girl. And she needs me. Please. For Nadia’s sake.”

Lana’s lips pinched together tightly as she considered. Finally, she spoke, “No way would I give Nadia to Benny, no matter what Desirée said. I know she loves that kid. I love that kid. I wouldn’t do nothing to hurt her. No way. I musta urged Desirée a dozen times to give her to you, but she wanted to keep her—even though she hated the crying. Of course, Nadia doesn’t cry much . . . anymore. She’s a good kid.”

“What happened to her on Friday?” Rebekka asked. “You did have her, didn’t you? Or did Desirée lie to us?”

Lana’s eyes dropped to the table, and Rebekka saw a tear emerge from beneath her thin lashes. “I—I had her. Desirée asked me to watch her on Wednesday—she was working a catering job and wouldn’t be able to make it home that night.” Lana paused and swallowed noisily before continuing. “But she didn’t come home on Thursday either, and I was getting worried ’cause I had to work on Friday. I knew I couldn’t leave Nadia alone. I drink when I get worried, and I drank a lot that night.” With a furtive glance at Detective Francom, she added, “Maybe I took a little something else, too. I don’t remember what happened after that.”

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?” asked Francom.

“What about Nadia?” Rebekka put a pleading note into the question.

Lana’s eyes met Rebekka’s. “What I mean is the next thing I knew, I woke up here. I don’t know what happened to Nadia.”

Raoul abruptly slammed his fist on the table and rose to his feet, leaning toward Lana menacingly. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You don’t get drunk or take drugs when you’re watching an infant. No one in their right mind would do that! You can’t just lose a baby. What kind of a monster are you?”

“Monsieur Massoni,” Francom said without a trace of warmth in his blue eyes. “Please contain yourself or I will ask you to leave.”

The veins in Raoul’s neck stood out as he fought for control. Rebekka knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to succeed without some time away from the situation. “André, take my brother on a walk, please.”

“But—” began Raoul.

“Now.” Rebekka stood and pushed her brother toward the door. “You’re not helping anything,” she told Raoul. “Go get some fresh air.”

André put an arm around Raoul and half-dragged him across the room. “Rebekka’s right. Let’s go.”

When the door shut behind them, Rebekka turned back to Lana, determined to undo the damage caused by Raoul’s outburst. “Lana, you must understand why he’s upset. Nadia is his daughter and he’s never even seen her. He’s lost a lot of time, and the realization that he may never have a chance to make up that time is a heavy burden to bear. He means no offense to you personally. He just wants his daughter.”

Lana glared at her. “Oh, I can see that. I ain’t stupid. For what it’s worth, I’m glad Nadia has a father who cares so much. But I would never hurt Nadia—not even drunk or high.” She raised her chin and her jaw worked briefly before she continued, her brown eyes more watery than before. “I took care of Nadia. I know I figured out what to do and took her somewhere. I just don’t remember where.” With that, she put her head in her hands and began to cry.

Rebekka reached out to touch Lana’s arm. “I believe you. Now all you need to do is remember where you left her. Will you try?”

Lana nodded and wiped at her face. “I’ll try.”

Rebekka left Lana with the detective and went to find André and Raoul. Both looked up at her expectantly from the chairs outside in the hall.

“Lana doesn’t remember where she left Nadia,” Rebekka told them, “but she believes she left her somewhere safe.”

Raoul’s face was despondent. “She’s a drunk and a druggy. Why did I ever risk my child to such a woman?”

Rebekka knew he was referring to Desirée, not Lana, and she had no answer.

Her brother continued mournfully, “And what does she mean when she said Nadia doesn’t cry much anymore? What did Desirée do to her so that she wouldn’t cry?”

“We have to keep believing,” André said. “She’s out there somewhere, and we are going to find her.”

Rebekka took hold of her brother’s hand. “Come on, Raoul. I’ll drive us home.”