“Of course. I do yoga.”
“With sass, I take it.”
“Honey, I do everything with sass,” she replied, putting on the Southern drawl for effect, and he grinned and shook his head. She sobered and regarded him with serious blue eyes. “I looked over that paperwork you forwarded me. It does say that the custody terms can be renegotiated if either party doesn’t abide by the initial agreement.”
“I have abided,” Reed protested.
“You told me you didn’t always stick to the schedule.”
“My life doesn’t happen on a strict schedule. Sarit damn well knows that.”
“Yes, and that’s probably the source of your problem,” Kimmy told him. “You’re still with the other woman.”
“What? I didn’t even start seeing Ellery until a few months ago. Sarit and I were long divorced by then.”
“I am not talking about Ellery. I’m talking about your job. You remember–the thing that broke up your marriage. I’m sure in Sarit’s view, your work took you away from her and now it’s taking you away from Tula. She thinks she’s protecting her.”
“Tula is right in there, with me.”
“So you’re working a case with your seven-year-old daughter in tow? I don’t think I’d bring that up, either. And, as long as we’re laying all the cards on the table, then yes, there’s Ellery, too. Sarit doesn’t like her.”
“Sarit doesn’t know her.”
Kimmy frowned. Sarit hadn’t met Ellery, but she had. “All things being equal, that’s probably a good thing. She’s, um … well, she’s a lot.” Reed shot her a look and Kimmy held up her palms. “Hey, I like her. I do. Now. But you have to admit, Reed, she comes on like a freight train. She’s got nails in her closets. She nearly lost her job because she shot a guy in cold blood.”
“A man who nearly killed me.”
“I know.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I know it all makes sense to you and her, and maybe that’s how love is supposed to be, but a judge is going to look at the considerable number of hospital bills and wonder whether she’s fit to be around kids.”
Reed jerked his hand back at the word “love.” He didn’t say anything for a long time. “You’re saying I have to choose, then. Is that right?” He gave Kimmy a hard look. “Tula or Ellery?”
Kimmy didn’t get a chance to answer. Tula came bounding into the room with Reed’s cell phone. “Here, Daddy. Mama says to tell you she’ll deal with you later.” She peered into his face, her eyes worried. “Are you in trouble? That’s what she says to me when I’m getting punished.”
“No, baby.”
“Good.” She slid into his lap and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged his daughter close, laying his cheek atop her shining hair, and he met Kimmy’s gaze. She looked away with a sad smile and Reed closed his eyes. If he had to choose, there was no choice at all.
* * *
Reed had one additional stop to make before returning to Boston on the train. Fortunately, Kennedy Harris worked as a barista in a coffee shop just one mile from the station. “How would you like to buy some cookies to eat on the trip back to Boston?” he asked Tula, who was skipping along beside him, swinging his hand back and forth as they walked.
“Yeah, chocolate chip!”
“Let’s see what they have.” His phone buzzed as he pushed open the door to the coffee shop. “Ellery,” the ID read. He took the call and prayed for good news. “How goes it?” he asked as he and Tula took their places at the end of the line.
“We found the guy from the picture, Tyreek Cantrell. We’ve brought him in for questioning.”
“Sounds serious.”
“He’s got Chloe’s bracelet. The one from the day she disappeared.”
They shuffled forward in line. “You don’t sound convinced he’s the guy.”
“We checked the apartment, even going down to the basement. There’s no sign of her. He’s not giving off the vibe of an angry kidnapper, though. We’re letting him stew by himself for a few minutes before we hit him with the bracelet. Meanwhile, people here are divided on whether Teresa should do another televised plea.”
“What does she want?”
“She wants to do it.”
Reed glanced down at his daughter. Of course a parent would say anything, do anything. Pluck out all their eyelashes. Give away their savings. Stand naked in Times Square and scream for God Almighty to smite them for their sins. The kidnapper was using this natural desperation for their own pleasure. Whoever it was didn’t care about Chloe. It was about making Teresa suffer, and Teresa would do so endlessly. Reed’s concern was the end game—taking Chloe’s life would be the final move. They had to hope the kidnapper hadn’t made it yet.
“Reed? Are you there?”
“Yes, just thinking.”
“What do you say? Should she do it?”
There were justifications either way from a tactical point of view. Conceding to the demand invited Chloe’s abductor to make further contact, and each contact increased the data they could draw on to find her. Giving in could also embolden the kidnapper to up the ante, moving them all closer to the end. But as he stood there, Tula’s warm hand in his, Reed answered like a parent, not an FBI agent. If this went bad, if the worst happened, he would want Teresa to know she had done all she could. “Do the TV appearance,” he said finally.
“There’s not much else new. Just some additional security camera footage from the T. Chloe got on the Green Line at Arlington headed inbound.”
“Can I see the footage?”
“Sure, I’ll send it. What about you? Anything from Philly that explains this case?”
“Nothing yet. I’m headed back to Boston shortly and I’ll fill you in then.”
He heard voices on her end. “I’ve got to go,” she said.
“Ellery—” He almost said, Love you, but bit it back. “Be careful,” he amended.
She hesitated, like she heard what he didn’t say. “You, too.”
At the counter, they ordered a milk for Tula, a coffee for Reed, and a pair of chocolate chip cookies to go. Reed set Tula up at a small table with her iPad and went to pick up his coffee. The barista had a nose stud and bright red hair pulled back into a bun. She prepared the coffee in no particular hurry, looking preoccupied with her thoughts. Her name tag read: KENNEDY, so he knew he had the right woman.
“Reed!” she called out as she brandished the paper cup.
“That’s me,” he said, but he didn’t take the coffee from her. Instead, he showed off his FBI credentials. “Are you Kennedy Harris?”
She didn’t look impressed. “You already know that I am or you wouldn’t be asking.”
“My name is Reed Markham. I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions.”
She waved at the expresso machine. “I’m kinda busy here.”
“It’s important.”
She rolled her eyes, but she hollered toward the back, “Hey, Max! Can you cover for me?”