"She pressed a fingernail into the elevator b.u.t.ton, and the doors immediately opened. "Call me anytime, hun," she slurred and got on the elevator. Her daughter weaved her way on behind her.

Jake looked at Abby as she spun forward. Her eyes had the same heaviness as her mother's, and there was a distinct sluggishness in her head and neck. Was she drunk too? Jake struggled with the words to say, but before he could get anything out, the elevator doors had closed and his opportunity to confront her had pa.s.sed.

What kind of a mother would get her little girl drunk? His mother, even with her infinite flaws, had never sunk that low!

His mother had unwittingly exposed him to everything as a child. By three he knew what beer tasted like, and at nine he had already tried pot. The reprobates she invited over to the trailer were liberal with their vices, or negligent to leave things lying around where children could reach them. But she never knowingly allowed him or Holly to get stoned or drunk in her house. That was another whole echelon of bad parenting.

Jake shook it off. There was no time to dwell on other people's problems; his plate was filled with his own. But he had hope now. His delinquent neighbor had managed to do one good thing this evening. She had confirmed Jake's suspicions.

Aiyana was one of the ghost-children.

Chapter 20.

Holly held the radio in her numb fingers and waited for the response.

The radio crackled. "Are you alone?" It was the same digitally altered voice she had heard on the video.

"Yes," she squeaked, "I'm alone."

"Are you listening closely?"

"Yes."

"It is important that you understand what I am about to tell you."

She hung on his every word.

"I do not intend to kill your son."

Her body seized up, and her gut rolled. Could she possibly believe him? This was a cold-blooded killer. But in all that she had read, he had never promised anyone their child would be saved. Never. His communications were always centered on punishing the mothers for the evil they had done by not providing a safe home for their child to grow up in.

"Did you hear me, Holly?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes," she said, "I heard you."

"It is important for you to understand this point. Yours is the last child I'm going to take. He is not like the rest. The others led up to this important event. The media is ready to hear what I have to say, and you are going to tell my story."

The radio went silent for several seconds, and a panic arose inside Holly.

She ground the radio b.u.t.ton with her thumb. "I'll tell your story. I- I'll do anything you say! Please don't hurt my son! He's all I have!" She released the b.u.t.ton and stared at the radio in her shaking hands.

"There is one rule," the voice returned. "If you reveal to anyone that I am speaking to you, your son will be like the rest, and I will wait another year to finish what I have started. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I won't tell anyone. I promise. I'll do everything you say."

"I will kill your son, and I will make him suffer, if you fail." His words touched a vulnerable spot deep in her gut.

"I won't fail."

He spoke again, as if he knew her deepest fear. "You can't go running back to the Oxys. They won't just kill you, they'll kill your son."

Hearing him speak the name of her vice drove home the horror that this killer knew her intimately.

"Reach into the mattress again and feel around."

She set the radio down and did as he instructed.

"There is a box deep inside."

She couldn't feel it.

"Pull it out of the mattress."

It wasn't there. Her fingers dug deep into the cotton with desperation, but there was no box.

"Do you have it?"

She grabbed the radio. "I don't feel the box. I can't feel it. I'm looking."

"Find the box, Holly."

She jammed her hand further into the mess of stuffing, and something scratched the side of her arm. She slid her arm out and groped that area. The object was hard with rounded edges. It was the box! She was sure of it. Her fingers gripped it fiercely and pulled it free from its socket.

"I have it! I have the box!"

"Open the box, Holly."

The plastic box opened on a spring loaded hinge. Inside, on top, was a linen cloth, and beneath this were two items: a small, sealed, hard plastic cylinder, and a device with a key holder on top. Holly didn't recognize the symbol, but she was sure it was a car brand.

"The cylindrical item in the box is a bomb. If you open it, it will go off."

Her hand snapped back.

"The other device is a digital key. If the key is within a foot of the lock it is programmed for, it will disengage that lock, allowing the door to be opened. Do you understand the items that are in the box?"

"Yes."

"Good. I have made an appointment for you," said the digital voice evenly, "at the Doris Boardman Woman's Health Center tomorrow at 9:00 a.m."

Holly's mind reeled. He was connected to the clinic!

"This is what you will do. You will be escorted past the bullet-proof gla.s.s where the receptionists sit, and they will put you in one of two examination rooms. Make sure it is examination room B. It must be examination room B. Do you understand?"

She pressed the radio b.u.t.ton. "Yes. I understand, examination room B."

"When you are left to get undressed, I want you to go to the office directly across the hall. The device in the box opens the door to that office, and only that office. If the device is in your pocket the door lock will turn green. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Inside the office are two filing cabinets. Place the bomb in the right file cabinet to the rear of the bottom drawer. Repeat this back to me."

"Right file cabinet, rear of the bottom drawer."

"You will need to do this quickly and get back to the exam room before the doctor's a.s.sistant returns. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I will page this radio again tomorrow at twelve noon. Make sure you are in your bedroom, alone, when I call."

She trembled. "I will. I'll be here. Alone."

"Listen carefully, Holly. You can save your son. Repeat after me, I can save my son, Gabe."

"I can save my son, Gabe." Her throat constricted as she said his name.

"He is not like the rest. Repeat it."

"He is not like the rest."

"My son will live."

"My son will live."

"Good. Now put the radio back and hide the box. I will contact you tomorrow."

The radio lay lifeless in her hands, and panic seized her. She squeezed the b.u.t.ton on the radio. "Can I talk to him? Can I talk to my son?"

There was no response.

"I want to know he's alive."

Still silence.

She stared at it. Waiting. Not willing to believe the killer was gone. But the longer she sat there staring, the more strength left her body-until she was lying on the floor next to the box and the radio, lifeless as a corpse.

She had no idea how long she had been lying there, but a knock on the front door brought her back to reality. Her heart surged as she rolled to a kneeling position and stuffed the items back into the mattress.

The knock came again. She flipped the blanket down over the hole, s.n.a.t.c.hed the knife, ran down the hall past the kitchen to the door, and swung it open.

Dan looked at the knife and the panic in Holly's eyes. "Woah! Don't shiv me. I bring a peace offering. Of pizza."

She looked at the knife and half hid it as she moved to let him into the apartment.

"Man," he said, "I leave you alone for thirty minutes and you go all Rambo on me."

She followed him into the kitchen and set the knife in the sink.

"Do you have any paper plates?" he said, slapping the pizza down on the kitchen table.

It took her a second to shift gears. Adrenaline spikes were still making her ribcage tremble.

"Yes. Under the counter." She moved to get them.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

She forced a casual tone. "No. Same as it's been. Here," she said, handing him the plates.

"Thanks." He flipped the cover up on one of the boxes. "So what's next?"

Holly got quiet. What was there to say? She didn't need Dan's computer anymore, and according to the killer, Gabe was safe as long as she did what she was told. Having Dan in the apartment was a liability. She couldn't take the chance of him hearing the radio in her room or asking questions about the box.

"I think it would be best if you went home," she said, sticking her fingers into the tiny pockets of her jean skirt.

He turned and faced her. "Don't you want me to stay awhile? You know?" He gestured toward the box. "Pizza?"

"I think I need to be alone right now."

Alone was the last thing she needed to be, but it was too risky having him around. She couldn't afford a mistake.

Dan took a step toward her. "Okay. If you want me to go-I'll go."

She didn't have the strength to look him in the eye, for fear he might see how vulnerable she was. What would she do once he was gone? Would she run to the package of Oxys under the sink? Would she run to the store and grab a cheap bottle of wine? Would she do what she always did and soak her fears in a pool of numbness? It was an inevitable reality.

Her eyes ran from Dan's thick hand up his hairy forearm to his bicep. Even under his shirt she could tell he was strong, and she needed that strength. She needed someone to be strong for her. She needed him to be strong, because she felt so ashamedly weak.

Then she did something that surprised her even more than it surprised Dan. She put her arms around his waist and buried her cheek in his muscular chest. His body was like a rock in her grasp. She clung to the rock with desperation, a deep part of her pleading for him to rescue her-from herself.

Dan's arms went up in the air at first, but then slowly came to rest on her back.

"So," he said, "is this just you thanking me for the pizza?"

Chapter 21.

Angela Grant emptied her gut in the McDonald's toilet at exactly eight p.m. She had tried all day to use Saltines and soda water to ward off her daily bout with morning sickness-though why people called it that she had no idea-because it came every evening at eight p.m. With merciless regularity.

She splashed water on her face and stuffed a piece of gum in her mouth before heading back out to Perez, who was sitting in the car with papers scattered across his lap and an Ipad on the dash.