Nerves made her need to pee again, but she held it, set her jaw as she worked to tie the knot around the post.

Then she heard the car coming back, felt the knots in her stomach pull tighter than any she could tie with sheets. If one of them checked on her now, they’d see. She should have waited.

Trapped, she could do nothing but sit on the floor, imagining the door opening. The masks. The gun. Her fingers breaking.

Rolling herself into a ball, she squeezed her eyes shut.

She heard the voices again, carrying through the window. If they looked up, would they see she’d opened it?

One said—the wolf voice: “Jesus, asshole, you think this is the time to get high?”

The clown laughed. “Damn straight. They getting the money?”

“Smooth as silk, especially once they heard the recording,” the wolf responded, and the voices trailed off. The door slammed.

Too scared to worry about quiet, she dragged the makeshift rope to the window, tossed it out. Too short, she could see that right away, and thought of the towels in the bathroom.

But they might come in, any minute, so she wiggled out the window, gripped the sheets. Her hands slid helplessly a few inches, and she had to bite back a scream. But she gripped hard, slowed the slide.

She saw light—windows below her. If they looked out, saw the sheets, saw her, they’d catch her. Maybe just shoot her. She didn’t want to die.

“Please, please, please.”

Instinct had her wrapping her legs around the sheet, easing herself down until she reached the end. She could see right into the house, a big kitchen—stainless steel, counters like dark brown stone, green walls, not bright but light.

She closed her eyes, let go, let herself fall.

It hurt. She had to hold back another cry when she hit the ground. Her ankle turned, her elbow banged, but she didn’t stop.

She ran toward the trees, believing with all her heart they wouldn’t find her if she got to the trees.

When she did, she kept running.

Aidan slipped into the bedroom he shared with Charlotte. Exhausted, sick down to his soul, he walked to the windows. His Catey was out there, somewhere. Frightened, alone. Dear God, don’t let them hurt her.

“I’m not asleep,” Charlotte murmured, and shifted to sit up. “I only took half a pill, just to calm down. I’m so sorry, Aidan. Being hysterical didn’t help anyone. It doesn’t help our baby. But I’m so scared.”

He walked to the bed, sat, took her hand. “He called again.”

She sucked in a breath, gripped hard. “Caitlyn.”

He wouldn’t tell her he’d demanded to speak to her daughter, to be certain she was all right. He wouldn’t tell her he’d heard his child scream and sob she wanted her daddy.

“They have no reason to hurt her, every reason not to.” Ten million reasons, he thought.

“What did they say? Are they going to let her go? Are we getting the money?”

“He wants the money by midnight tomorrow. He won’t say where yet. He’ll call again. Dad and Nan are arranging it. He says when he gets the money, he’ll tell us where we’ll find Cate.”

“We’re getting her back, Aidan.” She wrapped around him, rocked. “And then we’re never letting her go again. When she’s safe, with us again, home again, we’re never coming back to this house.”

“Charlotte—”

“No! We’re never coming back to this house where this could happen. I want Nina fired. I want her gone.” She pulled back, eyes filled with tears and fury. “I’ve been lying here, sick, scared, picturing my daughter trapped somewhere, crying for me. Nina? At best she was negligent, but at worst? She could be part of this, Hugh.”

“Oh, Charlotte, Nina loves Cate. Listen now, listen. We think it must be one of the catering or event staff, or someone who got through posing as one of them. They had to have a car or truck or van to get her away. They had to have it planned out.”

Tears sheened over the arctic blue of Charlotte’s eyes, spilled down her pale cheeks. “It could’ve been someone in the family, a friend. She’d have gone with someone she knew.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“I don’t care about that.” Charlotte brushed it away. “I only want her back. I don’t care about anything else.”

“It’s important we find out who and how. If we contacted the police—”

“No. No. No! Is the money more important to you than Caitlyn, than our baby?”

He’d forgive her for that, he told himself. She looked ravaged, looked ill, so he’d forgive her for that eventually.

“You know better. I don’t give a damn how upset you are, don’t you say such a thing to me.”

“Then stop talking to me about police when calling them could get her killed! I want my baby home, I want her safe. She’s not safe here. She’s not safe with Nina.”

Heading toward hysterical again—he recognized the signs. He couldn’t find it in him to blame her.

“All right, Charlotte, we’ll talk about all this later.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, but I’m terrified, Hugh. I’m letting myself get wound up again because I can’t stand thinking about our baby, alone and afraid. Oh God, Aidan.” She dropped her head on his shoulder. “Where is our baby?”

CHAPTER THREE

Running, until she couldn’t run any more, until she had to sit on the ground, shivering, shaking. She’d tripped a couple of times when the trees blocked out the moonlight and now her hands bled a little, and she’d torn her jeans. Her knee hurt, and her ankle, her elbow, but she couldn’t stop too long.

She couldn’t see the lights anymore from wherever she’d been, and that was good. How could they find her when they couldn’t see her?

The bad? She didn’t know where she was. It was so dark, and she was so cold.

She heard coyotes off and on, and other things that rustled. She tried not to think about bears or wildcats. She didn’t think she was high enough in the hills for that—Grandpa told her they lived higher, and stayed away from people—but she didn’t know.

She’d never been in the woods, alone in the dark before.

All she knew, for certain, was that she had to keep going in the same direction. Away. But she wasn’t even sure of that because at first she’d been so scared she hadn’t paid attention.

Instead of running, now she walked. She could hear better when her own breath wasn’t whistling in her ears. She could hear if someone—or something—came after her.

Tired, so tired, she wanted to curl up and sleep. But something might eat her if she did. Or worse, she thought, worse, she might wake up back in that room.

Where they’d break her fingers and shoot her.

Her stomach hurt from hunger, and her throat clicked from thirst. When her teeth chattered, she didn’t know if it was from fear or cold.

Maybe she could sleep, just for a little while. She could climb a tree, sleep in the branches. It was so hard to think when she was so tired, so cold.

She stopped, leaned against a tree, laid her cheek on the bark. If she climbed a tree, slept, maybe when the sun came up, she could see where she was. She knew the sun came up in the east, knew the ocean was west. So if she saw the ocean, she’d know . . .