The two women from the office had come outside, both bundled in coats. They made sure to keep their heads down and not glance our direction as we sat motionless, our short breaths curling into white wisps in the car. Neither of us thought to turn on the engine, to crank the heat. We were both too stunned.
I sat and stared through the windshield, a prayer running through my mind on loop.
Find him. Find him. Please, let us find him.
“We left his stuff.” Knox’s words startled me as he burst out of the car, running to the sidewalk.
I’d grabbed Drake’s car seat and diaper bag from the nursery. When had I set them down? Before or after we’d gone to Jill’s? I couldn’t remember now. Every minute seemed fuzzy, every second like a lifetime.
A fresh wave of dizziness hit, swirling around the what-ifs that I refused to let myself think, let alone voice.
Knox picked up Drake’s things, carrying them to the backseat. Then he returned to the driver’s seat and, this time, turned the key.
“I can’t sit here,” he murmured. The heat had barely begun to flow from the vents before he was out of the car once more, this time stalking toward Winn.
She stood in Jill’s driveway, talking on the phone.
Knox walked right to her, waiting for her to end the call. The moment she put her phone away, the garage door at Jill’s opened. It was empty. Where there should have been a car, there were only shadows.
Where would she have gone? Drake didn’t have his car seat. What if she got into an accident? Had she gone into town? Maybe she’d ventured downtown for a coffee.
My hand found the door handle and I pushed it open, but before I could step outside, a blaring alarm sounded from my phone. The noise echoed through the air, not just from my phone, but from all the other people.
The AMBER Alert.
For my son.
That shrill sound slashed through my body, slicing to my heart. I clutched my chest, willing my heart to keep beating. Find him. Please, find him.
Two cars pulled into the parking lot, both at almost the exact same time. Other parents were beginning to show to pick up their own children. Their faces were clouded in confusion and sudden worry before they each rushed inside.
Except inside, they’d find their children.
While I had not.
A rush of energy lit my nerve endings into a buzz. Sitting in this car, waiting, was no longer an option. I shoved outside, wrapping my arms around my waist, and hurried to join Knox.
He saw me and swallowed hard, then held out a hand.
I took it and faced Winn. “I can’t sit here. I’m going crazy.”
“We’ve got everyone in the department looking. The alert’s out there. Let’s hope we get a call.”
“What if I just headed into town? Maybe I’ll bump into her. Maybe she went to the store or Christmas shopping. She said she’d be back before I showed up. It’s almost five.”
“It would be better if you stayed here,” Winn said. “In case we need information.”
“You could call me.” My eyes watered. “Please. Please don’t make me sit here and watch. If this was Hudson . . .”
“Okay.” She blew out a deep breath. “All right. Keep your phone close.”
“I will.” I moved to take a step, but before I could walk away, Knox’s hand shot out and clasped around my elbow.
“Wait, honey.”
“What?” I spun. “Are you coming too?”
“We need to tell Winn the whole story.”
“What whole story?” she asked.
It took me a moment to read his face. Then realization hit me and my stomach did a cartwheel.
Oliver. My parents. The woman who’d tried to blackmail them for money.
“Do you think this is related?” I asked Knox.
“I don’t know.” His forehead furrowed. “But if it is, Winn needs the truth.”
All this time, we’d waited for my parents to contact us. We’d endured their silence, hoping for the best possible outcome. Except what if that had been a mistake? What if Drake had been a target for months? What if we could have stopped this from happening?
“Memphis.” Winn placed her hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my head. “Talk to me.”
“Last month, around Thanksgiving, my parents showed up in Quincy. Our relationship is . . . strained. They came because a woman was blackmailing them. She threatened to expose Drake’s father’s name. To tell people who his father is.”
“Who is his father?” she asked.
I looked to Knox.
Knox was Drake’s father. In all of the important parts of that label, Knox was Drake’s dad.
They just didn’t share the same DNA.
“His name is Oliver MacKay,” I said, then told her the whole story.
Winn planted her hands on her hips. “Could they have taken Drake? Oliver or his wife or her family?”
“I don’t know.” Maybe they wanted him after all. Or maybe this was Oliver’s wife’s punishment for his infidelity.
“Chances are, Jill has him,” Winn said. “You said she loves him. The daycare owner confirmed that Drake’s her favorite, by far. Given that, my hunch is that she’s probably overstepped. She took him on a walk to a park or downtown or to visit a friend.”
“But . . .” Knox voiced the doubts written on Winn’s face.
“I need to know what happened with the woman in New York,” she said.
“Okay.” With shaking hands, I scrolled through my contacts and found my father’s name. I tapped it and raised the phone to my ear, holding my breath as it rang. My heartbeat was so loud and hard that I felt my pulse blast through my veins.
“Memphis,” he answered.
“What happened with the woman who was blackmailing you?”
“You made it clear that you didn’t care about the outcome. You had your chance—”
“My son is missing.” My voice cracked. “What happened? Please.”
“What do you mean, missing?”
“Just tell me!” I screamed the words, the hold on my sanity beginning to break.
Before I could hear my father’s response, Knox ripped the phone from my hand. “Talk. Now.”
A tear sped down my cheek as I stared up at Knox. His jaw ticked and his nostrils flared at whatever my father said. Then he dropped the phone from his ear and ended the call.
“What?”
“He refused to pay. Told her to fuck off. Hasn’t heard from her since.”
“Oh, God.” A hand flew to my mouth to hold in a sob.
How could I have been so foolish? In the past weeks, I’d let myself have hope. I’d let myself be blind. My father had never intended to help me. Not once.
I was about to crash to the sidewalk when a strong arm banded around my back, holding me up. “He called her bluff. And she called his.”
“Does he have a name?” Winn asked.
Knox shook his head. “No. He didn’t get one.”
“This is my fault,” I whispered. “I should have dealt with it myself.”
“No. This isn’t on you.” Knox took my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping furiously to dry the tears. “We made this decision together.”