peg near the door. The retired electrician looked thinner than ever, his pants held around his waist with a belt cinched small as a dog’s collar. Even his handshake felt feeble.
They sat around the table and talked while Aunt Helen fixed tea and Emma drew pictures on construction paper with stubby crayons.
When it was Emma’s bedtime, the kidnapper offered to read her a story. It was simple enough to snap a picture of her in her pajamas holding the front page of today’s edition of the New York Times.
Soon, the picture would come in very handy.
Chapter Two
Stef held Keely in her arms and stared mutinously at Mitch Halloran over the roof of the black luxury sedan as he stowed their luggage in the trunk. She was not ready for this. Night surrounded them with cold velvet. The stars were crystal-clear overhead.
Stef couldn’t bring herself to touch the door handle. It had been hard enough to pack clothes and toys for Keely and to allow Mitch to collect a DNA sample from their mouths with a swab. She did not want to get into this car and drive toward an uncertain future, which might not include the precious baby she held in her arms.
She couldn’t do it.
She had to do it. Another child needed her.
Mitch closed the trunk and stared back at her, not saying a word, but his Goliath expression said plenty.
She hated him, she really did. Hated how he loomed over the car—a golden malevolent griffin with sun-bleached hair. Hated how she noticed how endlessly broad his shoulders were and how she could feel his eyes silently reminding her that her flesh-and-blood child was spending yet another day without her real mommy.
That was the worst part of it. Nausea and anger churned in her at the heart-wrenching thought that she’d only known her real baby for a day. What if her real daughter was dead? Or would be killed once the ransom was paid. What if she never saw her again?
“Mommy?” Keely’s voice sounded pitifully small and tired in the darkness. “I don’t like that man. He makes you sad. I want my snuggie and my beddy-bye time.”
“Kee, that was rude. Mr. Halloran is a detective, which is kind of like a police officer, and he needs Mommy’s help. So we’re going to go with him and help him, okay? It’ll be fun. An adventure.”
Keely didn’t look convinced. Her brow wrinkled like a plump raisin. “No.”
Stef saw the white flash of Mitch Halloran’s patient smile in the darkness as he walked to the driver’s side door. He obviously knew better than to clash wills with an obstinate two-and-a-half-year-old. She smoothed the hair back from Keely’s forehead and kissed her frown away, her throat tightening with suppressed emotion. “Sometimes, Kee, we have to do things even when we don’t want to do them.” God, what an understatement! “I have snuggie and I’ll tuck it around you and we’ll have our beddy-bye time in the car.”
As she spoke, Stef opened the rear door of the car. The door handle felt cold in her grasp. “Okay, baby gorilla, into your car seat. I’ll sit right beside you.”
To her relief, Keely obeyed, though she moved at an excruciating turtle’s pace. Stef fastened her daughter into the car seat and covered her with her snuggie, the crocheted rainbow-pastel blanket that had been a gift from Brad’s former boss. Then she handed Keely her cup of milk with the leak-proof lid.
Stef was uncomfortably aware of Mitch Halloran’s unrelenting size filling the car, his scent commingling with the scents of leather and the sweet baby smell of Keely’s blanket. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so aware of a man’s presence. It had probably been her wedding day when she’d walked down the aisle and seen Brad waiting for her at the front of the church.
Brad. He’d been handsome, engaging and unreliable.
Funny how she’d fooled herself into thinking he’d always be there for her. The fact that he was estranged from his parents, who hadn’t been invited to their wedding, should have been her first clue that family wasn’t at the top of Brad’s priority list. She wouldn’t be going through this nightmare if he’d stayed overnight in the hospital with them. But he’d had that job interview the next morning, which he’d blown anyway by arriving late.
Guilt struck her. It wasn’t Brad’s fault that someone had stolen their baby.
Mitch looped an arm across the back of the front passenger seat, his face a study of intense sharp angles as he backed the car out of the driveway—away from the home she’d bought with the money from Brad’s life insurance policy. At least he’d been responsible enough to buy life insurance when Stef had discovered she was pregnant.
Angry tears blurred her vision. She licked her dry lips as Mitch put the car in drive and her house receded from view. Next time she came home, would Keely be with her?
She straightened, lightly stroking Keely’s hair. She had to think positively. As soon as her real daughter was safely returned, she’d hire a lawyer and fight for custody of Keely, even if she had to sell her house and everything she owned to pay the legal fees.
Were there even any Collingwood family members who’d fight for custody of Keely? The Collingwood murders had been all over the news—speculation running rampant on the talk shows over who would get the money because there were no other living relatives except Lexi’s greedy sister, Annette York. Annette was probably going to get the death penalty for killing her sister and brother-in-law.
Stef cleared her throat and glared at the back of Mitch’s head. “Where are we going?” she asked.
His face was reflected in the rearview mirror. He drove the way the cops on those reality TV shows drove, both hands on the wheel, his body language vigilant as if he expected trouble to come leaping out of the bushes.
Oh, God. Did he?
Visions of car-jackings raced through her mind. She suddenly realized that if Keely really was the lost Collingwood heir, she’d stand to inherit a fortune, which was why she’d been kidnapped in the first place. Her inheritance would make her vulnerable all of her life.
“We’re going to New York City,” Mitch said, his baritone bursting Stef’s panicky realization that he hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said Keely needed protection. “The Foundation has offices there. My boss has reserved a suite at a hotel. He’ll meet us there.”
“Who’s your boss? Is he related to the Collingwoods?”
“He calls himself The Guardian.”
Stef wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”
“He’s a private security consultant who keeps his identity under wraps to protect his clientele. Ross Collingwood hired him after Riana was kidnapped. He was the one who nailed Annette York for killing Ross and Lexi Collingwood.” Mitch’s voice held deference and respect. “When I was with the L.A.P.D., I heard stories about him from officers who’d assisted him with celebrity stalking cases.”
Stef didn’t care who The Guardian was or what he’d done. She was prepared to dislike him on sight. As far as she was concerned, The Guardian was just a man who wanted to take Keely away from her.
“Are there other
