"Maybe I should read it first, and then you can read it," she suggested.

  He gave her a knowing smile. "You're suddenly not thinking about the case anymore, are you? You're thinking about this bed, about me and you, last night…"

  She felt her cheeks warm at his words. "Wrong. I wasn't thinking about any of that. And don't distract me."

  "Sorry. Read me what you wrote."

  Clearing her throat, she looked at the journal and started reading aloud the notes that she'd made.

  "Hannah disappeared between eight and ten o'clock at night. Gemma, the nanny, discovered Hannah missing at nine-forty-five but hadn't checked on her since she'd put her to bed at eight." She paused, looking at Cooper. "I forgot the nanny discovered Hannah missing. Just like Kristine."

  "That's right. And Gemma was from Sweden. She'd come to the US with two girlfriends after college and they worked for a local agency. She'd been with the Montgomery's for a year when Hannah disappeared. But even though she was the last person to see Hannah, Gemma was never considered a person of interest in the case."

  "You read the case files, too."

  "I was able to do that, yes," he admitted.

  "I won't ask how that happened." She flipped to the next page. Gemma had a boyfriend—Nate Forrester. He worked at a bar called Benji's."

  "Burnett wrote only one thing next to Nate's name—alibi checked."

  "I'm not sure I need to go through this journal. You know more than I did then, Cooper."

  "Keep going."

  She looked further down the page and Kyle's name jumped out at her. She closed the book. "I don't want to do this."

  "Afraid to show me what you wrote about Kyle?" he challenged.

  "What purpose will it serve? It will just make you unhappy."

  "Give me the book, Andi."

  She hesitated, then handed him the journal. "I'm going downstairs to look for some cash and see if I can get into my father's computer. That will be a lot more helpful. And then we need to go." She paused at the door. "If I can find the spare key, we can take my father's car. That way we won't have to drive with the bullet-shattered glass."

  Her words fell on deaf ears as Cooper read through her journal. She couldn't remember exactly what she'd written, but she had a feeling the wall between Cooper and her would be coming back up very soon.

  She went downstairs and into the office. Her father's laptop was on his desk. She opened it up and saw it required a password. He'd never been too clever about passwords. She tried a couple of his old favorites and found gold on the last one. As the computer opened, the display showed a background photo of her father and his latest girlfriend, who was wearing a skimpy bikini and looked to be in her twenties. Her father was never ever going to change.

  She didn't know why this beautiful young woman would want her dad. Maybe he was attractive, in an older man in his late fifties, kind of way, but he was a player. Married twice with a bunch of girlfriends concurrently and in-between.

  She clicked on the internet to get away from that disturbing picture and looked up the baby boutique. She flipped through the site, but there was no information about the owner. As Flynn had said, the business was masked in an LLC.

  Frustrated and tired, she looked away from the computer to dig through her father's drawers. In the first drawer, she found a brochure from Lassiter Realty. She pulled it out and set it on the desk. There was a note attached and addressed to her father, Tom. It said: Will would love to sell your house. He'll do a great job for you! Call him. Kim.

  It wasn't a love note but it still made her wonder again if her father and Kim had had an affair. But if they had, it had been years ago. Kim was no doubt too old for her father's taste these days.

  She looked back in the drawer and found a hundred and thirty dollars in cash, which would come in handy and a couple of keys, one of which hopefully went to the vehicle in the garage.

  Grabbing the keys, stuffing the cash into her pocket, she went down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the garage. A blast of cold air caught her by surprise. Her gaze swung to the door leading into the garage from the side yard. It was open.

  Her heart jumped. She felt a movement behind her, started to turn around, and then something hard and heavy came down on her head.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Andi's journal was making him angry, but Cooper couldn't stop looking at it. He was torn between wanting to let go of the past and the feeling that there was something important in her teenage writings that he needed to understand.

  The page devoted to Kyle's actions that night was upsetting and confusing. Andi reiterated how Kyle first said he'd left the concert early and had gone straight home. The next time he said he'd stopped to smoke a cigarette, which he couldn't do at home. And in one other conversation, he'd said that Will had left the concert early, and Kyle had stayed to the end and then gone home alone.

  He was aware of the times his brother had changed his story, but that's because Kyle got confused when he was under pressure, and when the FBI had searched Kyle's car and asked him where his cigarettes were, Kyle had stumbled, and then said he hadn't been smoking at all.

  The day of the search had been horrible and still lived in his brain in vivid detail. He could still feel the shame he'd experienced when the FBI had entered their house, and the neighbors had watched with suspicion in their gazes. He could still see Andi standing across the street. She'd sent him a pleading smile, but he'd looked away. What was happening to his family was her doing.

  He swore under his breath, not wanting to get caught up in the circle of hate again, and he was relieved when he turned the page and saw a new section focused on the scene of the crime and the neighbors. Andi had written detailed notes about everyone on the block and their actions that night. Some of them he remembered. Some he didn't.

  TJ Lassiter had come out of the house. He'd been playing videogames when Mr. Montgomery pounded on the door, yelling that Hannah was missing. TJ was the only one home at the time. He'd let Mr. Montgomery through the side gate so he could check their yard. Then TJ had gone back into the house until he saw the police lights and the crowd gathering outside.

  TJ's older brother, Will, arrived a few minutes after he and Andi had gotten to the scene. Will told them that Kyle bailed on the concert, left him alone there. He said Kyle was in a strange mood. Andi had put a star by that notation.

  Mrs. Lassiter had arrived home next. She'd joined them on the sidewalk, asking what had happened. She'd been working late at her travel agency. Her husband, Steve, was out of town.

  The house across the street from Hannah Montgomery was rented by Rose and Walter Voltman, an older couple in their seventies. They'd come out of the house in their pajamas and robes, saying they'd been woken up by the sirens.

  The house next to the Voltman's belonged to the Connors. They were on vacation. The house next to them was owned by the Madison family. They had two older teenagers who were in college. The Madisons were not living in the house, because they'd recently staged it and put it up for sale. While that was happening, the Madisons were staying with relatives out of town.

  On the corner lived a middle-aged man, John DiVincenzo. He said he was asleep and didn't know anything until the next morning. Andi had made a note that John had recently been laid off from his job at a local printing warehouse and his wife had left him a year earlier.

  He hadn't heard anyone talk about DiVincenzo when Kyle had been under the microscope. Mr. DiVincenzo seemed like someone the FBI should have questioned. But clearly, Burnett had just wanted a scapegoat to protect the real kidnapper. He'd had no reason to look any further than Kyle, who was a great target for him.

  As Cooper re-read Andi's notes about the neighbors, something niggled at his brain. The Madison's house had been up for sale. Why did that bother him?

  And then he knew why. Andi had told him the house behind Neil Benedict's property was for sale and because of that, their security cameras were not in operation. She'd thought that the kidnappers might have left Neil's property through the back of his yard, ending up on the street behind the house.

  Was that just an odd coincidence or did it mean something?

  The police had searched the neighborhood for Hannah, just as they had done for Elisa. They'd gone door to door, looking in backyards.

  Would they have gone into a house that was up for sale? Maybe that would have been difficult if the owner wasn't present to let them in.

  A crazy idea took root in his brain. Was it possible that each child had been kidnapped, taken to a nearby house for sale, where they were hidden away until the smoke cleared, and then moved to another location?

  The FBI might not have been able to access those houses within the first twenty-four hours, especially if they had no probable cause to go inside. It would have taken longer than that to get in, and by then, the child could have been moved again, but during a time frame when no one was looking.

  His pulse raced. He felt like he was on to something. Jumping off the bed, he jogged down the stairs to find Andi.

  The computer was open on the desk in the study, but there was no sign of her.

  His heart sped up for a different reason. It seemed suddenly far too quiet.

  "Andi?" he said, his own voice echoing back to him. He entered the kitchen, saw the open door leading into the garage. When he went down the stairs, he saw keys on the cement floor behind her father's car. Across from him, the door leading into the side yard was wide open.

  Fear stabbed him in the heart.

  Someone had broken in.

  Someone had taken Andi.

  Andi woke up with a start, the back of her head throbbing with pain, her arms aching from being stretched out in front of her. She tried to move them, but they wouldn't budge. She blinked her eyes open in confusion.

  The room was dark, but there was some moonlight coming through a high window over her head, enough dim light to see that she was lying on her side on a bed, fully dressed, her arms stretched out in front of her, a zip tie around her wrists and handcuffs attaching her to the headpost of the bedframe. One of her legs was bound to the post at the end of the bed. She tugged hard, but she couldn't move more than an inch.

  Anxiety ran through her. She tamped it down. She couldn't panic. That wouldn't help. She needed to think. To remember what had happened.

  She'd gone into the garage. The side door had been open, cold air hitting her face. She'd started to turn, to run back inside, but someone had hit her on the back of her head and knocked her out.

  Her breath came a little faster as she thought about what might have happened next. Clearly, they'd brought her somewhere. They could have killed her on the spot. But they hadn't. Why?

  She couldn't think of a good reason.

  She also couldn't think because Cooper's image was suddenly racing around in her head. Had the person or people who had kidnapped her gone into the house? Had they grabbed Cooper? She tried to twist her head to look behind her, but she couldn't see much.

  "Cooper," she said softly, hoping he was in the room with her, but there was nothing but cold silence.

  He wasn't here. Maybe they hadn't gone into the house. He could be fine.

  She tried to hang on to that thought, but she couldn't. What if he wasn't fine? What if they'd shot him? What if he was lying in a puddle of blood dying? What if she'd let him down again?

  She'd left the bedroom. She'd gone downstairs to get away from him. She'd gone into the garage without telling him she'd found the car key. All those decisions could have led to something horrible happening to him, and she couldn't bear that thought.

  The rational part of her brain told her to get a grip. She couldn't help Cooper until she figured out how to help herself.

  That seemed like an impossible challenge.

  Then she heard voices nearing the door. They were talking in Russian. Two women—again, just like in the store. Was one of them Natasha?

  In the distance, she heard louder sounds, heavy thuds, shuffling feet, loud bangs. There was a lot of action going on, and it felt like the noise was coming from a big cavern. She appeared to be in a bedroom, but was she?

  There was bedroom furniture, but now she realized there were two dressers in front of her, one white, one brown. There were several different vases on top of those dressers. In the corner were two chairs, one armchair, one hardback. She was in a furniture warehouse, she realized.

  She heard more voices, mostly female in nature, one sounded hysterical. And then she heard the sharp, piercing cry of a baby.

  Was that Elisa?

  More Russian words followed. She picked out a few of them. Mothers, babies, truck.

  It felt like she was in a holding area, maybe a point through which they moved babies and kids. But why bring her here?

  The answer to that question wasn't a good one.

  They'd shut down the store. They were dismantling the operation, probably to restart somewhere else. They were going to destroy any evidence left behind and any other loose ends, like an FBI agent who would never stop looking for them.

  "What's going on?" a new female voice asked in English, her tone hesitant, unsure.

  "It doesn’t concern you, Natasha."

  At the mention of Natasha, Andi's pulse leapt into overdrive. "Your name isn't Natasha," she yelled. "It's Hannah Montgomery. You were kidnapped when you were two years old."

  "What is she talking about?" Natasha asked.

  "She's just trying to upset you. Come along now."

  She heard them move away, and she felt a wave of despair. Five minutes later, the door opened and quickly closed. Natasha moved into the room.

  "Why are you telling me lies?" Natasha asked suspiciously.

  "I'm telling you the truth. I used to babysit you. Your name is Hannah. We built forts in your bedroom and took flashlights under the blanket and sang songs." She knew she didn't have much time, but she was desperate to convince Natasha. Maybe she couldn't save herself, but hopefully she could save this girl who had been missing for so long.

  "We made up a silly song," she continued, trying to remember the words. "It went like this: We're sitting in our tent, drinking our tea, Hannah and her elephant, her turtle, and me," she said. "We would have tea parties with your stuffed animals. Your mother's name is Shari. Your father's name is Ray. Your last name is Montgomery. I lived up the street from you. I'm Andi. I took you to the park when your nanny, Gemma, was busy. The park had a big slide, and you loved it. You would climb up and down the ladder without ever getting tired. But one day at the park, you fell, and you cut your arm. That's where your scar came from."

  Natasha shook her head. "That's not true."

  "It is true. I think deep down you know it is. That's why you came in here. When you were two years old, someone took you out of your crib, and I never saw you again until earlier today. I didn't know what happened to you, but now I do. The people you think are your family either kidnapped you or accepted a stolen child."

  Natasha shook her head. "It's not possible. My mother is my mother. We both have blonde hair."

  "That's not enough, Natasha, and you know it."

  "I have to go. I have to help. The babies are scared."

  "They're scared, because they've been stolen. You gave a duffel bag to a girl named Kristine in the park. That was for a baby named Elisa. She was taken from her crib Tuesday morning."

  "No. We don't kidnap children. We just help move the babies from poor mothers to those who can take care of them. We're doing good. We're helping people who can't get help other places. And we're helping the mothers, too. They don't have anything when they come here."

  "Where do they come from?"

  "I can't talk to you anymore."

  As Hannah headed to the door, she said, "Wait. If you don't believe me, look up your name on your phone—Hannah Montgomery. I'm sure your baby pictures are there from when you were kidnapped. You'll see your parents. Maybe you'll recognize them, but even if you don't, you might recognize yourself, and you'll know I'm not lying."

  "I—I can't," she said nervously. "You're telling me stories, because you're crazy."

  "I'm not crazy, Hannah. I'm a federal agent. I work for the FBI. What's happening here is against the law."

  "No, you're trying to kidnap a baby. They told me you'll do anything to get your hands on a child. You were at the store with your husband. You were desperate."

  "I just told that story so that someone would tell me what's going on. You have to believe me. I need you to call the FBI or the police. Tell them to come down here. Tell them Agent Andi Hart is in trouble. Please."

  Hannah didn't answer. She just backed out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  Andi groaned in frustration. She hadn’t made her case. She hadn't convinced Hannah what was really going on.

  How could the girl be so naïve? How could she believe the story they'd told her?

  She must have been brainwashed, raised to believe that lies were the truth.

  Although, she wondered again why Hannah hadn't been sold. Why had they taken her and kept her all these years?

  Her questions weren't going to matter unless she could get herself out of here. She yanked her arms again, which only resulted in sending a shaft of pain through one elbow. The noises outside were getting fainter. They were abandoning this location and she didn't think they were going to leave it standing behind them.

  She stiffened as she heard someone coming down the hall.

  The door opened once more, but this time it wasn't Natasha who entered the room.

  Andi's jaw dropped in shock. "You?" she breathed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cooper stalked around the house, fear racing through him. He needed to find Andi, to put it all together and figure out where she was. But a wave of hopeless despair ran through him. Andi could be anywhere. And he was one person. He needed to get help. He ended up back in the office, looking for her phone.