let me go home to her,” Mila said. “I promise not to tell anyone about yesterday. I’ve been here all night and I didn’t say a word.”
“He had a rough night,” Polk said, as if he didn’t intend to incriminate himself by saying DiSanti’s name aloud. “Once he’s on his way to recovery, you and your daughter will be reunited.”
Would she?
“How do I know you’re not lying, that you haven’t killed her already?” Mila crossed her arms. “I want proof that she’s safe, then I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Polk cursed, then pulled his phone from his pocket and accessed a photograph.
Tears choked Mila’s throat. It was Izzy in her room. The princess clock on her nightstand read 7:00 a.m. Not long ago.
Izzy was curled in bed with her pink blanket and baby doll clutched to her. Relief made her shoulders sag.
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