"Oh, shut up." Moore took his foot from Will's head, leaving him crying hysterically, his tears mixing with the mud on his face.

Ellen silenced herself, making eye contact with Will, trying to tell him that everything would be all right. She had to figure out what to do. Her thoughts raced. n.o.body was coming for help. The Coffmans weren't home. Her neighbors on the other side were never home. Everyone else was hunkered in their beds for the snowstorm.

Moore picked up the plastic jug and twisted off the lid, releasing the unmistakable odor. He tipped the container over on top of Will, and gasoline spewed from the spout, splashing onto Will's legs in the snowsuit, the solvent darkening the material from blue to black.

Stark cold horror paralyzed Ellen's thoughts. Moore was going to set them on fire. He was going to kill them both. She started screaming behind the duct tape.

Bing Bong!

Suddenly, the doorbell rang in the living room.

Ellen screamed louder behind the tape, even though she knew it was useless.

"Shut up!" Moore set down the gasoline jug and stepped hard on Will's head.

Ellen shook her head back and forth like a madwoman. She prayed frantically that Moore would stop hurting Will. She didn't know who was at the door. It was too late at night for a visitor, unless it was Martha Coffman. Maybe they'd come home in the meantime and needed to borrow something. Maybe one of her boys was sick.

Bing Bong!

Moore grimaced, angry. Will's face turned blue-red before her eyes. A silent scream contorted his features. Tears poured from his eyes. Snot streamed from his nose over the duct tape.

Bing Bong!

"Give it up!" Moore whirled around, finally taking his foot off Will.

Ellen willed herself to think. If it was Martha Coffman, maybe she had seen something from her kitchen. She would call 911 if Ellen didn't answer the door.

Bing Bong!

"s.h.i.t!" Moore flew into a rage, his eyes wild and out of control. He plunged his hand into his coat pocket, and when he withdrew it, he was holding a large revolver with a steel barrel.

Ellen froze.

Chapter Seventy-four.

"You see your kid?" Moore bent down and drilled the barrel of the gun into Will's temple. "I'll blow his head clean off."

Ellen was too terrified to cry, her emotion strangling the sounds in her throat.

"I'm gonna cut you loose, only because they're not goin' away. You answer the door and tell whoever's there to go. Do one thing wrong, just one, and I blow this kid's head offa his shoulders."

Ellen nodded frantically. This could be her only chance. She had to make something happen. Could she risk it? Could she not?

"I'll kill him. You understand?"

Ellen pumped her head, yesyesyes.

Bing Bong!

"All right then." Moore raised the revolver, sprang over to Ellen, and reached behind her back. He yanked her into the air by her wrists, hissing into her ear. "Up to you, b.i.t.c.h. One word and I shoot the kid."

Ellen shook her head, desperate to rea.s.sure him. In the next second, her hands were cut free and she fell like a broken doll to the hardwood floor.

Moore cut loose her ankles, flipped her over, and tore the duct tape from her mouth. It stung until he drilled the gun between her eyes.

"Don't hurt him, don't hurt him," Ellen heard herself whisper over and over, like a prayer.

"No tricks." Moore's face was six inches from hers, a close-up of bloodshot eyes, greasy mustache, and breath foul with beer.

Ellen scrambled to get her feet under her, her knees jelly. Her thoughts clicked ahead, running the possibilities. "What if it's my neighbor? What if she won't go?"

"Make her." Moore shoved her from the kitchen, and she half walked, half stumbled through the dining room, glancing quickly out the windows. The lights still were off at the Coffmans'. Connie would have let herself in. So who was ringing the bell?

Marcelo!

He was the only possibility. He would help her. Together they'd get Will out of this. She hurried through the dining room. Her heart thundered, and she crossed the living room toward the door.

Bing Bong!

Ellen couldn't see the face at the door, but a shadow stood silhouetted in the yellowish porch light. She opened the door and stood stricken against a blast of frigid wind.

At her front door was the last person in the world she ever expected to see.

Chapter Seventy-five.

It was Carol Braverman, standing in a long black coat, a quilted purse slung over an arm. Her hair was slicked back in a chignon, her eyes glittered with emotion, and her mouth made a glossy line. She asked, "Ellen Gleeson?"

Ellen nodded, stunned as Carol entered the house and began looking around the living room.

"I'm Carol Braverman, but you knew that already." Carol turned on her heel, the coat making a chic swish. She looked at Ellen with determined blue eyes. "You adopted my son."

"What? I'm sorry?" Ellen struggled to react. A million thoughts flooded her head. She couldn't process any of them fast enough.

"I came as soon as I had it verified. He's my son Timothy. He was kidnapped in Miami right after his first birthday."

"I don't know what you mean," Ellen said, beginning to think clearly. Will was in the kitchen under a gun. Moore could hear every word through the other entrance to the kitchen, over the landing. She had to get Carol out of here. One distraught mother was enough. Carol was a variable she couldn't predict right now.

"Sorry, but I think you do." Carol's eyes softened slightly. "I can only imagine what you must be going through, and I feel sorry for you, I really do. But we both know the truth. You have my baby, and I want him back."

"No, I don't." Ellen stepped toward her, leaving the front door open, filling the room with frigid air. "Please, leave my house."

"You have my son, don't pretend you don't know. You were in Miami two days ago."

"No, you're wrong." Ellen's mouth went dry. How did Carol know? No matter, a plan was coming together in her mind. She wasn't tied up anymore. As soon as she got Carol out of the house, she'd be free to move. She said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Leave my house, right now."

"Let me explain." Carol put up a hand. "A reporter who works with you called me at home and told me everything. Sarah Liu is her name. She told me about you and the boy you call Will."

Ellen felt it like an electric shock. Sarah had called the Bravermans? How? Why?

"She caught you on our website, printing out my son's picture. She called your house and verified that you were out of town. She figured out you'd come to Miami." Carol paused, c.o.c.king her head. "Why did you? Did you want to check us out?"

Ellen's mind reeled, then she fought to recover. She had to save Will. Moore would be waiting, the gun to her son's head.

"Sarah claimed the reward, of course." Carol smiled in gentle triumph, her diamond earrings flashing. "It's a million dollars, life-changing money. That's why we set it so high. We knew that sooner or later it would bring somebody out of the woodwork, and it did."

"This is insane. Get out."

"I Googled you online, I found the articles you wrote about him. I know you didn't know he was kidnapped, but that's not my problem. He's mine, and I want him." Carol's tone turned indignant. "My husband's on the way. His plane was delayed in the snow, and I didn't want to wait."

Ellen almost spiraled into an emotional stall. She used to think this was her worst nightmare, but now she knew better. Her worst nightmare was in her own kitchen. She had to get Carol out of here. Suddenly a noise came from the stairwell, and they both turned. Oreo Figaro appeared on the stair landing, where he stopped and sat down with a yawn, curling his inky tail around him.

"Where is Timothy?" Carol demanded. "I demand to see him."

"He's not Timothy, he's my son, and he's at a sleepover."

"A three-year-old, at a sleepover?" Carol moved toward the stairway, but Ellen shifted over and blocked her way.

"Stop right there. You have no right to walk around my house." She raised her voice to regain some authority. If Carol took one step closer to the stairway, she'd be able to see the kitchen from its other entrance. She'd smell the gasoline, and they'd all end up dead. Ellen put a firm hand on Carol's coat sleeve. "Get out, right now!"

"I thought we could do this without the police, but maybe not. You have my son, and I won't leave here without him." Carol tried to wrench her arm free, but Ellen held on to it with all her might. She was trying to save Carol's life, but the woman was endangering the son they both loved.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know he's mine, and I'm appealing to you, mother to mother." Carol's eyes filled with sudden wetness. "I held out hope, all this time, I knew knew he'd turn up. I knew he was alive. I could he'd turn up. I knew he was alive. I could feel feel him." him."

"Get the h.e.l.l out!" Ellen fought a rising panic. She could imagine Moore listening. They were running out of time. She could stand losing Will to Carol, but she couldn't stand Will leaving this earth, not while she drew breath.

"We hired a detective, and he confirmed everything Sarah said, including your plane ticket down and back."

"Go!" Ellen shoved her to the threshold, but Carol shoved back, her expression fierce.

"I'm not going!" She braced herself in the threshold, rooted as a tree. "I've waited two years to see him and that's long enough. I'll stand on your porch all night if I have to. I want my son son!"

"He's not here!" Ellen shouted, loud enough for Moore to hear. "Go! NOW!"

"Call the police then." Carol folded her arms. "But you won't do that, will you? Because you know that you're keeping my child."

"Get OUT!" Ellen shouted louder, fighting a wild impulse to run to the kitchen, grab Will, and go like h.e.l.l, but Carol's eyes narrowed with a new suspicion.

"Your eyes just moved. You just looked somewhere in back, behind you. He's back there, isn't he?"

"No, I didn't. Now-"

"I know he's here!" Suddenly Carol hit Ellen in the face, and she reeled backwards, off-balance, recovering too late.

"No, stop!"

"Timothy!" Carol broke free and bolted for the dining room.

"NO! STOP! WAIT!" Ellen chased her, took a desperate flying leap, and caught Carol by the hem of her long coat. The two women fell to the dining room floor, sliding on the hardwood and knocking into the dining room chairs like bowling pins.

"I want my son!" Carol screamed, as the two mothers wrestled on the dining room floor, b.u.mping the chairs aside.

"NO!" Ellen struggled with all her might to pin Carol to the floor and had almost succeeded when they both heard the sound of raucous laughter.

"What was that that?" Carol asked, her back on the floor.

Ellen felt her heart stop with fear, and she twisted behind her.

Rob Moore stood over them, his legs spread like a commando. He aimed his gun down at them. "Girl-on-girl action," he said.

"You!" Carol said, hushed, and Moore smiled slyly.

"Carol? Long time, no see."

Chapter Seventy-six.

"Let's get this party started." Moore gestured toward the kitchen with the muzzle of his revolver. "In the kitchen, ladies."

"I could kill you!" Carol shot back, scrambling to prop herself up on an elbow. "You kidnapped my baby!"

"Boo hoo, princess." Moore snorted.

"I got you the money, and you were supposed to give the baby back! That was the deal. You were never supposed to keep the baby. Never!"

"The deal changed."

Ellen looked from Moore to Carol, dumbfounded. They had a deal? She straightened into a sitting position, incredulous. Meanwhile she wracked her brain for a way to save Will. She had to get him out of this alive.

"Why did you do it, why?" Carol cried. "All you had to do was give him back to me. You got your money."