The boy clutched his toy car and closed his eyes. As Jack pulled onto the road, Kate quickly fastened the safety clip.

"Take him back right now."

"Kate, he's our son."

For a moment, time stopped and Kate hung suspended in a world with no noise and no movement. Then she shook her head.

"He's our son," Jack repeated.

"No."

"I'm not lying. He's ours."

"No."

"Our baby didn't die. Your parents told you that so you didn't make a fuss about keeping him. He was adopted by a couple in Vegas. His name's Tommy." Kate fastened her seat belt as Jack turned onto the highway.

"You're lying," she said.

"No, I'm not. What I'm trying to do is make up for what happened four years ago. I know I've done things in a crazy way, but after I saw you at Ashlands, I knew if I wanted to get my life straight, I had to put your life straight, too. All the therapy my dad paid for started to make sense. Last night, we got married and now we have our son back."

"Married?" Kate twisted the ring on her finger. What was he talking about?

"Well, I guess you don't remember. Too much champagne on an empty stomach, but I have the photos and certificate to prove it. You're now officially Mrs. Jack Thompson, darlin'."

Kate didn't believe him. He'd just stuck the ring on her finger while she slept, but as she looked at the boy sleeping beside her, it seemed unimportant. She shook him, but he didn't stir.

"Have you given him something?"

"He's fine."

Kate panicked. "Not the same as you've made me take? They're too strong, you stu-he's a baby. Tommy! Wake up, don't go to sleep." She shook him again, but his eyes stayed closed.

"I haven't given him anything. He's just tired," Jack said.

"Take him back. His parents will be out of their minds." Jack pulled up at traffic lights, and Kate banged on the window. "Help, please help," she screamed. They were about to pull onto the interstate. She had to get someone's attention. "Help!"

Jack reached back with the knife. "Shut the fuck up, Kate. I mean it." The car next to them drove off, and Kate slumped on the seat. "Where did he come from? Did you...did you just snatch him from somewhere?"

"I already explained. I did some research. His adoptive mother was a fat, loud-mouthed bitch who treated him like shit. He's going to be happy with us, have everything we can give him. He's our son. He belongs with us." Kate took hold of the sleeping child's hand and blinked back tears. She looked over her shoulder and Las Vegas faded away like a bad dream. Resting her head against the window, Kate closed her eyes, thinking about the day she and her mother went to the doctor. They'd returned home in silence, her mother white-faced with shock. Kate was ordered to her room until her father came home from work. Her parents talked for a long time before they came up. Everything sorted.

Too late for an abortion, she'd give the child up for adoption. Kate would leave school now. They'd say she was ill. No one need ever know.

The rape was brushed aside. They were angry Kate hadn't told them, but no point discussing it because it was too late. Not too late for them to hug her and say how sorry they were, how they knew it wasn't Kate's fault, but none of that happened. Their faces said everything. Too much to be done to waste effort on sentiment. The important thing was to make sure no one knew their bright teenage daughter was pregnant and had ruined her life-their lives.

Once the baby had gone, they pretended it never happened. Kate was seriously ill. Her mother said the baby died, didn't want to tell her what sex it was, but in the end because Kate promised if she did, she'd never mention the child again, her father told her. A boy. Her son died and now Jack was trying to convince her it wasn't true.

She didn't believe him.

But what if it was true? Had her parents lied? And the hospital? Kate had vague memories of signing forms. Were they adoption papers? Her parents had lied to everyone else so why not to her? She turned to look at the boy. Could he really be hers?

Chapter Eleven.

Special Agent Hedley Moss from the FBI's Las Vegas field office took in the scene the moment he walked into the restaurant manager's office. Frightened father, weeping mother, sleeping baby, defensive restaurant manager and in the middle of it all, Detective Mike Nicholson, from the LVPD, who happened to be an old friend. Mike looked relieved to see him and made the introductions.

"What are you doing to find my son?" Marshall demanded.

"Everything we can," Hedley said. "Officers are searching. We have Sammy's description and details of what he's wearing. Orange T-shirt, blue shorts and white tennis shoes, right? But any small child will be checked out."

"How come no one saw this guy walk off with Sammy?" Marshall glared at the restaurant manager.

"We were busy. Adults and kids are coming and going all the time. The boy didn't make a fuss, so no one reacted. To be honest, even if he'd screamed, we get so many kids throwing tantrums, it wouldn't necessarily have rung alarm bells."

"Why didn't you phone the police right away?" Marshall said. "You could have damn well done that."

"Mr. Howe," Hedley stepped in before the father lost his temper, "please sit down. We need everyone focused on the only thing that matters." He crouched down by the woman's side. "Mrs. Howe? Is there anything else you remember about this man? Anything at all?"

She looked at him with a tear-stained face and shook her head.

"Tall, in his twenties, fair hair showing under a blue baseball cap, a T-shirt with something written on it and jeans?" Hedley asked.

Amy nodded.

"Tattoos? Scars? How about his accent?"

"No," she whispered.

Her husband strode toward the door. "I'm going out to look myself, check the cars."

"It would be bet-" Mike began.

"He's my son." Marshall turned his anguished face toward them and walked out.

Hedley took a deep breath. If it was his son missing, he'd be out there shouting his child's name, banging on locked cars, listening at their trunks.

"The Amber Alert's in operation," Mike said and Hedley drew him away from the mother.

"Good," Hedley said. The more people they had looking for Sammy the better.

"Crime scene personnel are en route."

Hedley nodded.

"You saw I'd closed off the Plaza? We're searching vehicles before they leave and taking car and driver details, including exactly where they parked. I've alerted the airports. Dogs are on the way and I've sent a guy to collect items of Sammy's clothing. Road blocks in place but-" he dropped his voice, "too late, I reckon."

"No clue about what he was driving?" Hedley asked.

"No. The customers who stayed after the mother started screaming are being interviewed. Those that left, well...."

They both knew it would be impossible to trace all of them. Unless they came forward, they might as well have never existed.

"We've spoken to all the staff. So far no one remembers serving the man."

"There are tapes," Thad said. "Security tapes."

"In here?" Hedley asked.

"No, but around the Plaza."

An officer was dispatched to collect them.

"Maybe the kid just wandered off," Mike said. "This guy could be a red herring.

Or some other person could have taken him."

"It's possible," Hedley said.

He shot Mike a glance. They both knew the boy was probably dead.

Hedley sighed as Marshall Howe slammed back into the restaurant. The place had been marked off with tape. All the customers had gone and the staff, apart from Thad, sent home.

"Any news?" Marshall asked.

"Not yet," Hedley said.

He watched the man deflate like an old balloon, instantly aging.

"We need to put Sammy's picture on the TV," Hedley said.

Marshall looked worried. "The kidnapper might not want that." Hedley took him to a corner away from his wife. "Do you have any money?"

"We could probably scrape together ten thousand. We're not rich."

"Mr. Howe, I don't think you're going to be getting a phone call asking for money."

The color drained from Marshall's face.

"Do you or your wife have someone who hates you badly enough to do this?" Marshall shook his head. "No, sir."

"No jealous lover?"

Marshall stood straighter. "No. We're a decent family, ordinary people." Hedley met his gaze.

"Why did he take my son?" Marshall asked. "Tell me what you think; I need to know the worst."

No, you don't. He'd get there soon enough, then wish he never had.

"First of all, I don't think you should give up hope of your boy walking into one of the stores. Small children can be hard to find, they hide in unexpected places.

Sammy could have wandered off on his own. He's been gone for less than two hours. He might not have been spotted in a car if he fell asleep in the back.

There's still a chance this is something simple."

"And if it isn't?"

Hedley glanced at Amy Howe. She was rocking her daughter, her eyes unblinking.

"If someone's snatched Sammy because his wife's infertile or maybe recently lost a baby, when he gets home, she'll probably be terrified, make her husband take the child somewhere, a mall, a police station even, and leave him."

"What if the wife wants to keep him?"

"Neighbors are nosey, they'll notice. So will friends. You might get away with a newborn for a while, but you can't hide a chatty three year old." Hedley paused.

"Those sorts of people will take good care of Sammy."

"Who else might it be?"

Hedley avoided the question. "He'll probably turn up safe and sound. Most do, believe me."

"Who else?" Marshall asked.

"It could be a professional job, someone paid to take a boy for a rich, childless couple who've tried every other route. They might be specifically looking for a boy with blond hair, blue eyes, age three. Those people are more difficult to trace."

"But not impossible?"

"Never impossible." How could he tell this poor guy otherwise? Hedley had to believe it, too. Otherwise he might as well give up now.

"Or he might be a pervert," Marshall whispered, clenching his fists. "Some child molester might have taken my baby."

Registered pedophiles were already under scrutiny.

"How could someone want to hurt him? He's just a baby...my son...I love him more than my life...." Marshall began to cry.

Hedley hesitated. Not everyone would accept gestures of comfort from strangers. He patted Marshall's back.

"It's the least likely option," Hedley lied. "Don't think about it. You have to stay positive for your wife's sake. She's feeling guilty."

"Why did she leave him on his own? A few seconds was too long. She should have taught him not to go with strangers. But she asked a stranger to watch him.