woke up to Ellie’s fussing amplified through the baby monitor, disoriented at how well rested she felt and that the first light of dawn was peeking in around the curtains. She looked at the clock. Six o’clock? Nick must’ve taken the 2:00 a.m. feeding, bless him. She rolled over to thank him and was startled to see his side of the bed empty. He hadn’t struggled with insomnia for months, now.
Shrugging, she got up, threw on a bathrobe and headed for her daughter. Ellie was hungry, and nursed for longer than usual. Laura carried her into the bathroom and laid her on a big soft bath towel on the heated floor while Mommy jumped into the shower. She dressed herself and Ellie and headed downstairs in search of Nick.
He wasn’t in the kitchen watching the financial news and drinking coffee, as was his habit. She strolled through the entire downstairs and didn’t find him. Had he crawled into bed with Adam sometime last night? He did that now and then when Adam had a particularly scary nightmare. The boy had had periodic bouts with them ever since a team of killers had broken into the house after Nick’s rescue in search of her and Nick. Thankfully, the babysitter had gotten them into the mansion’s panic room and locked it down before Adam was hurt or worse. But the incident had left its mark on the little boy.
She headed upstairs and peeked into Adam’s room. He was sleeping alone. A low-level hum of alarm started in Laura’s gut. She checked the linen closet and Nick’s walk-in closet. No sign of him.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his. Not in service? What was going on? She ran down to the garage to check the cars—they were all in their places. The alarm system was still on, too. Where had he gone? He hated being outdoors. It wasn’t like he’d have gone for a morning stroll.
Starting at one end of the house, she searched it methodically, checking every place a grown man could possibly hide. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Memories of Paris flashed through her head with horrifying clarity. How he’d just disappeared. No trace. No evidence. No ransom call. Nothing. He’d just been gone. Please, God. Not again. She couldn’t live through losing him again. Not like that.
An hour later, she was on the phone to the police and local hospitals. Nada. And then she started calling their friends and associates, the early hour of the morning be damned. No one had seen or heard from him overnight. Panic hovered, vulture-like, waiting to close in on her.
Adam came downstairs and didn’t help matters one bit by immediately picking up on her stress. The child was far too observant for his own good sometimes. “What’s wrong, Mommy? Where’s Daddy?”
“I don’t know, honey. But there’s nothing to worry about.”
Adam frowned. “His heart is hurting again.”
She turned on the child quickly. “Why do you say that, sweetie?”
“He was in the towel closet again last night.”
“When last night?”
Adam shrugged. “It was dark. I had a bad dream and was coming to sleep with you. I heard him breathing funny in there.”
“What did he say?” She tried not to sound hysterical but suspected she’d failed when Adam frowned worriedly.
“He promised he’d keep me safe from the bad man. He pinkie swore.” The little boy started to cry. “The bad man got him, didn’t he?”
She gathered him into her arms. “Daddy? Are you kidding? He’s big and strong and smart. No bad man has a chance against your daddy.”
But the bad man had gotten Nick once before. Had history sickeningly repeated itself? Had he been ghosted out of their lives yet again?
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