Chapter 8 — Two People Claimed the Child

“Search it again.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Reed looked at me.

“They will.”

“Closets. The yard. Under the beds. She hides when she’s afraid.”

Reed passed that on without arguing.

I called Joanna.

Her phone rang somewhere I couldn’t reach.

Then I called the number Piper had answered.

Nobody picked up.

Knox stood beside the door, waiting for instructions.

I gave them.

“Every camera near that house. Every driver who passed it. Anyone who saw a girl carrying a bear.”

He nodded.

“No one posts her name publicly,” Reed said.

I turned to her.

“People need to know who they’re looking for.”

“People who can help, yes. People who might have taken her don’t need to hear what we know.”

I swallowed the answer I wanted to give.

“She’s right,” Daniel said quietly.

I looked back at Knox.

“Quietly. Share everything with Reed.”

He left.

Tessa’s fingers were trembling around her cup.

“I should have taken her,” she said.

“Not now.”

“I could have gone to the house.”

“Not now, Tessa.”

She stopped.

I couldn’t carry her guilt while mine was already telling me what I had done wrong.

I had put men outside.

I had called a lawyer.

I had waited for a visit, a review, a placement.

I had believed arranging protection meant she was protected.

Reed pulled a chair closer.

“What would Piper do if somebody told her you’d sent them?”

I looked at her.

“She might go.”

“Did you give her a way to verify that?”

“No.”

The admission hurt more than her question.

“Then we need to consider that someone persuaded her before the attack.”

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

Reed pointed toward the officer at the end of the table.

I answered on speaker.

A man’s altered voice filled the room.

“Mr. Ashford. You’ve had a difficult evening.”

“Who is this?”

“Someone prepared to improve it.”

“Put Piper on.”

A pause.

“I see you understand the situation.”

“Put her on.”

“She’s resting.”

“Wake her.”

“She’s seven. We don’t need to frighten her further.”

I looked at Reed.

She was writing.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“The drive you received tonight.”

“Which files?”

“All of them.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. We collected quite a lot.”

“You know what belongs to us.”

There it was.

Us.

“Mercer,” I said.

He didn’t deny it.

“The old Ashford warehouse by the river. Midnight tonight. You bring the drive. We bring the girl.”

“That building hasn’t been used in years.”

“Then we won’t be interrupted by employees.”

“Let me hear her.”

“You’ll see her when you arrive.”

“No.”

My voice settled.

“You don’t get to tell me you have a child and ask me to believe you. Let me hear her.”

The man said nothing.

I listened to the faint electronic distortion beneath his breathing.

Reed underlined something on her paper.

No proof.

“You want your files,” I said. “I want to know she’s alive. Those aren’t complicated terms.”

“She is alive.”

“Then this should be easy.”

“You’re not in a position to make demands.”

“You called me.”

I let that sit.

When he spoke again, his tone had lost its careful courtesy.

“We know about the papers at Castillo’s office. We know you stopped the payments. We know you met Brennan.”

“You knew Garrett too.”

“That man is no longer relevant.”

“He killed my son.”

“He made a decision without authorization.”

“Did he make the same decision about Noelle?”

Another pause.

“Garrett was careless. He mistook access for permission. We dealt with him.”

“So now you deal with a seven-year-old.”

“We’re offering you a chance to avoid another loss.”

Reed slid the paper toward me.

Keep him talking.

“Who gave the order to take her?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with our internal arrangements.”

“Did your people call you after they left the house?”

Silence.

“Did they tell you they had her?”

“You’ll be contacted with further instructions.”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen.

“He doesn’t have her,” I said.

“We don’t know that,” Reed replied.

“He couldn’t give me one thing that proved it.”

“That could mean he isn’t with her. It could mean he’s withholding proof to control you.”

“It could mean he’s lying.”

“Yes.”

I pushed the chair back.

Knox returned before I reached the door.

“Joanna is conscious. An officer is with her at the hospital.”

“What did she say?”

“A woman came to the front door before the men arrived. She said she was there about Piper’s placement.”

Reed reached for her phone.

“Name?”

“Joanna doesn’t remember. She says the woman showed something in a folder and knew the caseworker’s name.”

“Did she leave with Piper?”

“She took her through the side entrance. Joanna believed they were going to a car. Then two men came in through the front.”

I closed my eyes.

Someone had used the help I had requested as a way through the door.

“What did the woman look like?” Reed asked.

“Light brown hair. Expensive coat. Joanna said Piper didn’t seem to know her.”

My phone vibrated.

A message.

A photograph.

Piper sat on a wooden chair in a bare room. Her new coat was folded beside her. She held the bear against her chest.

Her face was wet.

A woman stood behind her with one hand resting on her shoulder.

I knew that hand.

The narrow gold ring on its middle finger. The faint scar near the thumb from a wineglass she had broken in our kitchen.

I knew the face too.

Celeste.

Not a theory.

Not a questionable record.

Celeste, standing beside the child she had hidden.

Under the photograph was a message.

You always did make people nervous when you started asking questions. Call me before you agree to anything.

Reed moved beside me.

“Is that her?”

“Yes.”

Tessa covered her mouth.

I enlarged the photograph.

Piper’s bear had its repaired ear. Her coat was the one I had bought. Behind the chair, part of a gray door showed beside a painted wall.

“Get this to whoever can examine it,” I told Reed.

She had the officer take a copy.

I typed back.

Let me speak to Piper.

The phone rang almost immediately.

I answered.

“Silas.”

Celeste’s voice.

Two years had passed, but I recognized the slight catch before she said my name.

“Give her the phone.”

“I will. First, listen—”

“Give her the phone.”

I heard movement.

A quiet exchange away from the receiver.

Then a small voice.

“Hello?”

I sat down because my knees had stopped feeling reliable.

“Piper. It’s me.”

“Mr. Silas?”

“Yes.”

She began crying.

“I didn’t know if she was telling the truth.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That you knew her.”

“I do.”

“She said we had to go because some bad people were coming.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is anyone touching you?”

“No.”

“Do you have your coat and your bear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep them close.”

“Can you come get me?”

I looked at Reed.

She nodded once.

“I’m working on it.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart. None of this is your fault.”

A sound came from her end of the line, and she drew a breath that shook.

“Please don’t forget where I am.”

“I won’t forget you.”

Celeste took the phone back.

“She needed to hear you.”

“She needs to come home.”

“You don’t even know where home is for her yet.”

“Then help me arrange somewhere safe.”

A brief silence.

“Mercer called you.”

“Yes.”

“They don’t have her.”

“I noticed.”

“They sent men to take her. I arrived first.”

“And you told Joanna you were handling the placement.”

“I did what was necessary.”

I looked at the photograph again.

“What do you want, Celeste?”

“Something you can give me.”

“The drive.”

“Yes.”

“And Piper?”

“She’s my daughter.”

The words came readily now that the child was useful.

“You gave her away.”

“I’m trying to keep her alive.”

“Then tell Reed where you are.”

Celeste went silent.

I had deliberately named the detective.

After a moment, she said, “You brought the police into this.”

“Someone took a child.”

“Silas, you need to understand what will happen if I walk into a police station.”

“I understand what happened when you didn’t.”

Her breathing changed.

Then she said, “I have a plan. If you want Piper back, you’re going to hear it.”