A moment pa.s.sed as the person on the other end made a statement.

"No. That's not going to happen," she blurted, then lowered her voice and continued. "Michael doesn't suspect a thing. I'm not telling him anything until after the holidays."

Another moment pa.s.sed before Anne whispered, "Love you, too."

Michael's body stiffened as the icy fingers of shock seized his heart. The jolt of discovery slammed into him. The woman he loved more than life itself had a lover. Worse than that, she was waiting until after the holidays to leave him.

Sitting in his office, Blake glanced from his computer to the window where the light was fading. It would soon be dark. Seventy-two hours had pa.s.sed, and there was no sign of Shawn.

He'd spent the day researching John Isaac's family tree to see if there was a relative who could have abducted Shawn. He'd found that John literally had no family. His mother had died of brain cancer, and his father had died after a fight he lost in prison. There were no brothers or sisters, nor were there aunts or uncles he could find.

Although a deputy had been a.s.signed to search hospitals and morgues, Blake contacted them again. But none of the facilities had admitted or received a five-year-old boy in over a year. And every s.e.xual predator in the county had been interviewed, to no avail.

As part of the Amber Alert, the television media ran continuous ticker tape messages across the bottom of the screen urging anyone who had seen Shawn to call the sheriff's office. The few calls they'd received were checked out. None of them panned out. "Missing" posters could be seen in every shop, restaurant, gas station and grocery store, and were nailed to every wooden light post and tree. There wasn't a person in the county who wasn't looking for Shawn Isaac.

Blake opened his notepad to review the notes he'd taken during the interviews he'd done, praying that some piece of information he hadn't noticed before would pop out to help him find this little boy.

Blake re-read his notes and stopped when he got to the page describing his questioning of Billy Collins. It still bothered him that the five-year-old wouldn't meet his eyes when he answered a question. The kid wouldn't meet his eyes and fidgeted with his fingers, as if he were anxious about something. And once he'd answered Blake's questions, he acted thrilled his mother asked him to go to his room. In fact, he couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Did he fear Blake because he was a police officer? Or was he lying because he had information about Shawn?

It was worth a second visit to Billy's house to find out.

December 24.

Sometime during the night, Shawn awakened to howling wind that blasted so hard against the house, it shook the gla.s.s in the attic window. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and dragged it with him to the window, where he wrapped it around his body for warmth as he gazed outside. There was more snow than Shawn had ever seen blanketing the neighborhood, drifting up against the houses, covering some of the festive colored lights that twinkled beneath. Rubbing his freezing hands together, he watched as a truck, its wipers struggling to clear the windshield, crept by in the foot of snow that had filled the street.

Tree branches heavy with snow bent toward the ground. In the moonlight, the snow shimmered as snowflakes continued falling from the sky, blowing diagonally across the window. At times it was snowing so hard, Shawn couldn't see even the closest house.

Shawn leaned back against the wall and looked around the attic illuminated by the moonlight. Filled with loneliness, he wished Billy could stay in the attic with him.

Shawn closed his eyes and pretended he was at Detective Blake's house. He was sitting close to Mrs. Stone on the sofa and she was reading to him. He loved to sit close to her while she read out loud. With her arm around him, her body was warm and she smelled like flowers. And when she read, she acted out the characters so the story came to life.

Shawn remembered the time he'd sc.r.a.ped his knee while playing catch with Detective Brennan in their backyard. Shawn didn't cry, but Detective Blake picked him up and gave him the biggest hug. Then he carried him inside piggy-back style to put some medicine and a bandage on his knee. After that, Mrs. Stone gave him a chocolate chip cookie with some milk. He thought Mrs. Stone must be the nicest and most beautiful woman in the world.

If only Detective Blake didn't work for the sheriff. But he did, and that meant he would make Shawn go home if he found him.

At his last visit to the attic, Billy had announced tomorrow was Christmas Day. That meant Santa would visit tonight. Would Santa be able to find him stuck away in Billy's attic? Shawn hoped with all his heart that Santa would find him tonight and take him far, far away. He'd give any Christmas toys earmarked for him to other children, just so Santa would take him away.

Though he hadn't done it in a long time, Shawn wanted to suck his thumb. He hadn't sucked his thumb since his daddy caught him, and hit Shawn so hard that he fell out of his chair. Well, his daddy wasn't here now, so he put his thumb into his mouth and sucked contentedly. He made a wish that his daddy never got out of jail. It wasn't that Shawn wanted bad things to happen to Daddy, he just wanted to be safe from him.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, he rocked gently back and forth. Worry had come to visit in Shawn's mind, and he couldn't shake his fears. He might only be a little boy, but he knew he couldn't stay in the attic forever. After the holiday vacation, he had to go to school. Eventually, someone was going to find him and return him to his mother, and the beatings would begin again. What if she became so angry that she killed him? He didn't want to die. He made a wish that he could be safe from his mommy, too.

Billy had said his mommy and daddy were dead. At the time, Shawn didn't believe him. But what if Billy was right? They wouldn't be able to hurt him, but it brought him no comfort. Mommy said bad people would take him away from her. They'd make him live with the mean people who didn't like children, and they would beat him harder than she ever did.

Shawn stopped rocking, leaned his head on his arms, and cried. He could see no way out of this terrible fate.

Michael lay quietly next to Anne, watching her as she slept. His heart swelled with emotion, thinking of the life they'd built together, and asking why she would seek out a lover, why he wasn't enough. He thought they were happy. How could he have missed signs that maybe she wasn't? Before taking the job of county prosecutor, Michael was an attorney who had handled some messy divorce cases. He had seen firsthand the worst of the worst, the hurt and deceit of failed marriages, and he had vowed that he'd never take a wife unless he was as certain as anyone can be of a "happy ever after." He thought he had found it with Anne. He loved her so much that he would do anything for her.

Mere inches apart, Michael could feel her warmth on his chest, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, pressing her against the hard length of his body as he'd done countless times before. As long as he had known her, he had wanted her, and that would never change, whether she had a lover or not. His mind told him to resist, but his body refused. A part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. What the h.e.l.l was she thinking? The other part wanted to pull her into his arms, make love to her like never before, and drive any thoughts of another man far from her mind.

Anne's cell phone, the one that used to lie ignored at the bottom of her purse, sounded a Maroon 5 song, and she rolled over to get it from the bedside table. Lifting it to her eyes to see the display, she noted who was calling and quickly slipped out of bed. Quietly closing the bathroom door, she took the call in privacy, where Michael could hear only the soft murmuring of her voice. Fear, anger and disbelief knotted inside him. This was so not happening.

Hearing the metallic snick of the k.n.o.b, Michael closed his eyes and burrowed down in the bedding. Anne came out of the bathroom. She glanced his way to make sure he was still asleep. Then she tiptoed to the closet, extracted a sweater, jeans and boots, then left the room for the bathroom down the hall, gently pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.

Michael bounded out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, long-sleeved black T-shirt, and his leather hiking boots. After he brushed his teeth, he stood at the bedroom window that faced the driveway, waiting for his wife to appear. A thick layer of snow covered everything, weighing down tree branches and drifting against the house and garage. It was still falling in soft lacy flakes that glittered in the early morning sun. On any other day, he would have admired the snow as a beautiful act of nature. But not today.

Moments later, Anne walked to the garage, opened the door and started her blue Honda CRV.

Pulling his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, Michael dialed their housekeeper Daisy's cell. At this time of morning, she was undoubtedly in the kitchen making breakfast for the twins.

"Daisy, I have the day off, but have a couple of appointments in town. Can you watch the kids until I return?" asked Michael.

"Of course I can. Anne asked me to watch them before she left."

"Thanks." Michael disconnected the call in time to see Anne back the vehicle out of the garage, turning it around in the snow-covered driveway to head down the long lane to the road. He bounded down the stairs, taking them two-at-a-time, flying out of the house and into the garage in time to see Anne pulling onto the road. Revving his Escalade, he slammed it into reverse to turn around in the driveway, daring the vehicle to get stuck in the snow. With windshield wipers battling the pelting snow, he drove down the lane, nearly hitting Hank, the farm foreman, who was at the wheel of his truck, clearing the end of the drive with the snowplow.

Staying a safe distance behind, he tailed Anne into town, becoming more furious as the miles pa.s.sed by. It was Christmas Eve, and Anne was meeting her lover? Seriously? h.e.l.l, even if it weren't a special holiday that she should be spending with family, she shouldn't be out on the roads in what was predicted to be blizzard conditions later in the day. Whatever she was thinking, it wasn't about her safety. Christ, what had gotten into her? He pa.s.sed a church with a lit-up nativity scene on its lawn, and for a moment it held his attention. There was an angel standing guard over the baby Jesus, who had a layer of snow swaddling Him. Michael couldn't hold back the tears forming in his eyes. Suddenly, he felt impressed to utter a prayer. "Lord, you know I haven't exactly been a religious man. But it's Christmas and it's the season for miracles. G.o.d, if there is a way, please help us work through this. Bring Anne back to me."

Trailing his wife until she approached a cl.u.s.ter of medical buildings near the hospital, he pulled in several s.p.a.ces down when she parked her SUV in the lot. She hurried inside a building marked with the words Women's Center, leaving Michael to wonder if her lover was a d.a.m.ned doctor who worked inside.

His temper flaring, Michael got out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. He fought for control as he neared the building, knowing his temper could make the bad situation even worse.

Dr. Sands' waiting room was filled with anxious women hoping to see the doctor before she closed her office at noon for the holidays. Anne waited nervously, biting her lip and twisting a strand of her hair as she watched the physician's receptionist work at her computer. A flat-screen television broadcasted a women's health program, and the woman next to her flipped through the pages of a tattered magazine. Anne glanced around the room and wondered. Were there other women like her, waiting to get what could be a death sentence? And on the other end of the scale, were there other women waiting for the happy news that they were pregnant? They were all waiting for some news. How could life and death so easily reside in the same room? What was it that intertwined these women's lives together? Hope. Hope it wasn't cancer. Hope they were finally pregnant. Hope for a Christmas miracle.

Anne eyed the wooden door that led to a hallway of examination rooms, where her doctor had test results that had the potential to blow her life apart. When were they going to call her name? If Dr. Sands had her test results, she wanted them now.

The wooden door opened, and Dr. Sands' nurse, Joanne, appeared and called Anne's name, smiling as she approached her.

"Hi, Anne. It's good to see you," the friendly woman began, "Come down here to the dreaded scales so I can get your weight for your records. How are your kids? Do you have your holiday shopping finished?" Anne didn't feel like chatting, she just wanted the woman to simply hurry up.

Moments later Joanne led her into the same exam room Anne had occupied the day her doctor affirmed the lump in her breast and had ordered an ultrasound. The day that had so drastically changed her life.

"The doctor will be right with you," said Joanne as she motioned for Anne to sit down.

As Joanne closed the door, Anne fervently prayed that she did not have cancer. She couldn't. Her children and husband needed her. And she loved and needed them like her lungs needed oxygen. She was happy and fulfilled with a husband she adored, and two children that filled her with joy. There was so much at stake. How ironic that a tiny lump within her breast could carry such significant consequences. The irony that she could escape the wrath of a vicious serial killer five years before, and possibly lose her life over a ma.s.s of tissue as small as the end of her little finger, was unreal and so unfair on many levels.

Dr. Sands entered the room with a file folder in hand, and Anne's stomach clenched with fear. She tried to read the expression on the doctor's face, but she wasn't giving up anything. The doctor pulled up a small stool with wheels and moved near Anne. She opened up the folder and said, "Anne, I have the results of your ultrasound, and I didn't want to make you wait until after the holidays to find out what they are."

"Thank you," Anne replied, as her fingers formed a fist she clutched in her lap.

"The lump in your breast is a harmless, fluid-filled cyst," the physician began. "There's nothing to fear, Anne."

Tears streamed down Anne's face as she reacted to the news. "Oh, thank the Lord! I'm so relieved," she cried.

In a rare demonstration of affection, Dr. Sands put her arms around Anne's shoulders and said, "Have a wonderful holiday, Anne. Enjoy your family." Then she left the room.

Wiping her eyes with a tissue from her purse, Anne strode out of the waiting room, into the hall, toward the gla.s.s-walled elevator where she pushed the down b.u.t.ton. For the first time, she noticed the three-floor-high Christmas tree in the lobby adorned with colored lights and beautiful ornaments. Feeling overwhelmed with grat.i.tude, she couldn't wait to get home to her family. As the elevator door opened in the lobby, she noticed a man, who looked like her husband, standing near the plate gla.s.s window.

"Michael?" she asked, as she approached him from behind. He spun around to face her. "Michael, what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question." he returned as a muscle flicked angrily at his jaw. Grasping her arm, he led her out of the building. Seeing the crumpled tissue in her hand, he growled, "What did that b.a.s.t.a.r.d do to you to make you cry?"

" Honey, it's not like thata" Anne began.

Michael cut her off, leading her toward his vehicle in the parking lot, and said, "How can you "honey" me at a time like this? We have to talk."

Reaching the Escalade, he opened the pa.s.senger-side door for her and helped her inside, then moved to the driver's side, got in, and slammed his door.

"Michael, what's wrong? Is it the twins?" she asked as apprehension swept through her.

"Who's Dr. Sands?" He ground the name out between his teeth.

"My doctor."

"Really," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Isn't it against professional ethics or something for a physician to be involved with his patient?"

Confused, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you and this Dr. Sands aren't having an affair?"

She stared at him with astonishment. "Affair? Michael, what's wrong with you? Are you crazy? Dr. Emily Sands is my gynecologist. Where in the world did you get the idea I was having an affair with her or anyone else?"

"Emily?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

"Yes, Emily."

"Well then who's the guy you were talking to on the phone the other night in the kitchen at our party?"

Perplexed, she wrinkled her brow as she thought for a moment. "Oh, that was Frankie. You heard our conversation?"

"Yes."

"I'm really sorry, Michael. I would have told you, but I didn't want to ruin your holiday."

"Yeah, leaving me for your lover would tend to do that," he said, with not a little sarcasm.

"Honey, you silly man. You're the only one I want." Anne smiled as she squeezed his arm. "I don't know what you thought you heard in my conversation with Frankie, but I have no intention of leaving youa"ever." She hesitated, taking a deep breath, and added, "But I have been keeping something from you."

"Yes you have, and I need to know what it is."

Still emotional, Anne felt her eyes tearing up again as she explained, "Michael, I have a lump in my breast the size of a pea."

"Oh, my G.o.d, honey." Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, kissing her thoroughly, making her heart hammer against her ribs. "This is what you've been keeping from me?"

With his voice strong and steady, he said, "Let's talk about it. Tell me what tests you've had and what the doctor says. We'll fight this thing together. Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch."

"That's why I was seeing Dr. Sands today. She had my ultrasound results. Michael, the lump is harmless. Everything is going to be alright."

"And you could tell Frankie about this, but couldn't tell me?" Michael asked with a pained expression. "I don't know what hurts most thinking you were having an affair and leaving me, or knowing that you trust Frankie, but not me, when something's wrong."

"It's not like that," she began.

"Yes, it's exactly like that," he said, as he glared at her. "If things were reversed, and I were the one with the lump, would you want me to shut you out?"

"No. I didn't think about it like that," she said quietly, guilt rushing through her like a river. "I just didn't want to worry you and ruin the holidays. I planned to tell you later, I swear."

Michael stared at her for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was tender. "I hope you know you are more important to me than any holiday. You and the kids are my life. Don't ever shut me out like that again, Anne. I mean it. I take our marriage vows seriously. Together we can face anything. Remember the part, *through sickness and health'?"

"Yes, I remember. I'm really sorry, honey."

Exhaling with relief, Michael pulled her close to him, nearly dragging Anne over the console, and wrapped his arms around her. "And I'm so sorry I doubted you. I know better than to think you would have an affair. I was insane by the thought you were cheating, and I wasn't thinking straight. I love you, Anne. Will you forgive me?"

"I will, if you will forgive me for not telling you. I love you more than anythinga"or anybody," she replied.

He dropped his head and kissed her senseless. And right there in the parking lot of the medical center, a Christmas miracle was forged by love, hope and forgiveness.

Tim, Lane and Blake stood in the sheriff's office break room, watching an emergency weather report on the large, flat-screen television mounted on the wall. A meteorologist stood in front of a map of the Midwest and announced blizzard warnings stretching from one side of Indiana to the other. Predicting winds over 45 mph, he advised that more than an additional foot of snow could fall by the afternoon. Blizzard conditions with wind chill temperatures below zero were expected.

Tim wiped his hand over his face, his expression tight with strain. He pulled Blake aside and said, "We have to call off the search for Shawn."

"With all due respect, sir, I can't do that," Blake replied tiredly.

Tim stared at Blake for a moment, then leaned in. "Listen, son, we've done everything humanly possible to find that little boy. As sheriff, I can't risk the lives of our officers to continue the search in this weather. They'll be needed for emergency runs for stranded."

"I understand. But I can't stop looking for him. He may still be alive and out there needing help," Blake paused for a moment, then said, "I promised your daughter that I'd bring home our son."

"And he's my grandson," Tim emphasized. "But I think we both know it's going to take more than luck to find him now.

Tim pulled Lane into the conversation. "Lane, there are ten all-terrain vehicles parked in the warehouse for the nine deputies on-call to use for emergency transportation. You take one home. You may be needed later."

Tim turned to his son-in-law and handed him a set of keys. "Blake, I have a brand new four-seat ATV in my garage. You take that."