child away?
Grant looked at the clock. She’d be here in an hour, two at most. Not much time to get his head straight. And he’d need a clear mind to cope with having her home again. Why in the world had he suggested that she spend the night? Anything, anything for Rosie, she’d said. Still, tonight it would just be the two of them, alone for the first time in three long years.
Shaking his head, he headed to the guest room. Last time he’d checked, there were clean sheets on the bed. Other than a little dust on the furniture, things looked fine. He put a stack of fresh towels in the guest bath, then ran a dust rag over the headboard and footboard, the dresser and night stand.
“Might as well vacuum the family room, too,” he muttered, heading for the linen closet. And while he was at it, Grant would figure out what to make for supper.
Tonight would be a cakewalk compared to tomorrow. Hopefully tidying up and preparing the meal would get his mind off...everything.
Such as what she’d look like now? Taller. Weightier. Had the kidnapper cut her hair? Dyed it to ensure no one would recognize her from the photos that had flashed on every TV news broadcast, nationwide? What had the abductor put his little girl through?
Don’t go there, he told himself. Because thoughts like that would only make him more angry and resentful of Rena. He was determined to behave like a gentleman tonight. Tomorrow, too. And every day until Rosie had grown fully accustomed to her new life. No matter how long it took.
She’d remembered her address and phone number. His full name and Rena’s. Did she remember how much she’d been loved and treasured, too? He hoped so, because that would go a long way to assuring a quick shift from her life in Chicago to life in their peaceful Baltimore suburb.
None of it would be necessary if Rena hadn’t dropped the ball that day. What kind of mother...
But he’d been down that road a couple hundred times, and all he had to show for it was an overblown resentment of his wife.
How did he expect to share a meal, the house, day-to-day life with the woman who’d upended his whole world?
Grant didn’t know.
But for Rosie’s sake, he intended to try.
RENA HAD NO way of knowing how long she’d be gone, so she packed a colorful cloth carry-on bag for the trip to Chicago, and a huge suitcase of clothes to stow at the house. She slipped her laptop and e-reader into her briefcase, too, since chances were good that conversation between her and Grant would be severely limited once Rosie was tucked in each night. Her boss at the hospital had been more than understanding, and promised that there would be a job waiting for her whenever she returned.
She turned from 146th Street onto Coastal Highway, hoping her neighbor wouldn’t assign the plant-watering, mail-gathering chore to her teenage son. Being greeted by dead philodendrons and late notices sure wouldn’t make returning any easier.
Rena glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the eighty-foot, conical Fenwick Island lighthouse. The beacon had guided many sailors safely to shore and should have been a symbol of safe harbor. Instead, it had always reminded Rena of the separation between her and Grant.
Her cell phone chirped as she merged onto Highway 404.
“Rena,” Grant said when she answered. “Where are you?”
“I should be there in about an hour. Why? Did you have trouble booking the flight?”
“No. But it’s not for tomorrow anymore. It’s tonight. I figured the sooner we arrive, the sooner we can get our girl home again. Booked us a room at the Hilton, too, walking distance from the FBI office.”
“Makes sense,” she agreed, even though the prospect of sharing a hotel room with him did nothing to calm her nerves. “What about the return flight?”
“We don’t know how much red tape we’ll have to cut through, so we can book that when we get the go-ahead.”
That made sense, too.
“What time is the flight?”
“Midnight. We won’t get much sleep tonight—”
She started to say that seeing Rosie for the first time in all these years pretty much guaranteed it. But a new fear rose up, choking off her words: What if Rosie shared Grant’s opinion of her? What if she, too, blamed Rena for the kidnapping? Heart pounding, she bit her lower lip and willed herself not to cry.
“I got us a room with two double beds and a roll-away for Rosie, just in case we can’t get an early flight out day after tomorrow. Reserved a rental car, too.”
He’d thought of everything. Except saying, “I forgive you” or “We’re gonna be all right.”
What would the three of them talk about? With any luck, the specialist they’d called in to prepare Rosie could provide the answer to that. Something told Rena the doctor would suggest avoiding topics like where Rosie had lived. How she’d lived. But that didn’t stop Rena from wondering. Had she gone to school? Did she have friends? Or had the kidnapper held her in seclusion to protect herself?
“What’s wrong?” Grant wanted to know.
“Nothing, really. Just...so many questions swirling in my head.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. But I’m sure the shrink will give us some guidance. And once we get home, we’ll find her a specialist nearby.”
“Yes, she’ll need all the help she can get. Who knows what sort of things she’s been exposed to, things she’ll need help putting into perspective.”
“We’ll all need all the help we can get.”
“I’d better go. Traffic is building.”
“And it’s against the law to talk on your cell phone while driving.”
She didn’t bother to point out that he’d called her, not the other way around.
“Well, I need to pick up a few things for the trip,” he said. “See you soon.”
With that, he hung up. She could picture him, pausing, hand on the receiver as he eased it into the cradle. He’d probably chosen something casual to wear after changing out of his for-work-only suit and tie. A Henley shirt, maybe, with snug jeans and Dockers. She’d seen more handsome men on TV and at the movies, but Grant’s attractiveness came more from the way he carried and conducted himself than facial features—which were, to be fair, quite striking. Dark-lashed, larger-than-average blue eyes, a broad chin, high cheekbones, and a boyish dimple that showed when he smiled...
She caught herself smiling longingly at the image and cleared her throat. “Stop it, you ninny. Just stop it, right now.”
Rena pictured Rosie, too, a much smaller, more feminine version of her dad. They’d been close. So close, in fact, that from time to time, Rena had to shrug off jealousy that her little girl seemed to prefer Grant to her. No surprise, really, when he’d do just about
