Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I fast-forward the feed from the time we arrived home to three hours ago and then play it on double speed.
I’m at the ten o’clock mark when Rosemary groans. In between studying my screen, I steal glances at them, praying to God that Nicole will bring Rosemary to so we can get answers.
“That’s it,” Nicole says, bending over the babysitter. “Open your eyes, Rosemary. Thanks, Livy. That’s enough. Let her breathe. Anya, get me a glass of water.”
Anya pours water from a bottle into a glass and hands it to Nicole.
Rosemary’s eyelids flutter. Her head bobs to the side, seeming too heavy for her neck.
Ten-thirty. The only movement on the feed is from the guards patrolling the grounds. One of the guards at the gates lights up a cigarette and smokes it under the light. Then he goes back to his post in the guardhouse.
“Oh my head,” Rosemary croaks.
Thank fuck.
“Do you have anti-inflammatories?” Nicole asks.
“I have some.” Livy pushes to her feet. “I’ll go get them.”
She shoots me a worried look as she scurries past me down the hallway in the direction of her room.
“Rosemary,” Nicole says a little louder. “What happened?”
I go closer.
Rosemary looks between Anya and Nicole, frowning. Her voice is groggy. “Did I fall asleep?”
I’m about to shake some answers from her when, close to the eleven o’clock mark on the feed, the front door opens and a thick-set woman with a bundle in her arms steps out.
My heart jerks to a stop. The bundle in her arms is wrapped in Claire’s pink blanket, the one with the white polka dots.
“Where’s Claire?” Anya asks in a teary voice.
Rosemary blinks. “What?”
The hand in which I clutch my phone shakes. The woman turns to the guard at the door and says something. He nods.
“Claire is missing,” Nicole says. “You have to tell us what happened.”
“But…” Rosemary coughs. “What’s going on?”
The woman climbs down the steps and walks to a car that’s parked in the driveway with the cars of the guests. I asked them to park down the street before we arrived because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for Anya. Once we were inside the gazebo, a couple of trusted valets brought the vehicles into the property where the fancy models would be safe from car thieves.
Rage mounts inside me as I watch the woman open the back door and put the bundle on the seat. Like a fucking sack of potatoes. No car seat.
“You were out cold,” Nicole says. “What happened? Who took Claire?”
“I don’t understand,” Rosemary whines.
“Claire is gone,” Anya bites out, her voice thick with grief. “You have to tell us who took her.”
Rosemary stutters, her tongue tripping over the words. “What do you mean Claire is gone?”
The woman gets behind the wheel. She starts the engine and drives toward the gates. The man who smoked his cigarette earlier lets her out.
Motherfucker.
My whole body is wired for war. Every muscle is geared for battle.
I’m willing to bet the one eye I have left that bundle on the backseat was our baby. And if that’s the case, the woman who took her is dead.
Nicole flicks her fingers in front of Rosemary’s face. “Rosemary, focus.”
I zoom in on the license plate and take a screen shot. Then I fire off a message to Dante, sending him the license plate number and instructing him to bring the guards in question—the one who manned the door as well as the gates—to my study.
The babysitter touches her temple. “My head. It hurts.”
“We’ll give you something for your headache in a minute,” Nicole says. “Think, Rosemary. What’s the last thing you remember?”
My pulse hammers out an unsteady rhythm as I stare at my phone. I suppress the fury and bottle it up for later because I’m going to find out who that woman is and then I’m going to savor her screams while I peel off her skin right before I snap her spine like a twig.
Nicole’s words come through to me.
“Rosemary, you have to focus.”
Focus.
I email the license plate number to our informant on the force, telling him I want that car tracked down or I’ll have his head on a spike. As soon as the message is delivered, I tap into the feed and pull up a camera from a different angle to get a better visual on the woman’s face.
“Rosemary,” Nicole says, her tone harsh. “Do you understand what’s at stake?”
Rosemary sounds in shock if not close to tears. “I don’t get it.”
While I wait for the feed to load, I glance at Anya. Fuck. How do I tell her? How do I tell her someone walked into our house and stole our child right from under our noses?
“Someone took Claire,” Nicole stresses. “She’s gone, and we better find her fast. Now tell me. What’s the last thing you remember?”