Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Hey, buddy.” I go over and sit down next to him. “How are you doing?”
He sniffs. “I want my mommy.”
His voice is thick from crying, his small body spent from pining for his mother for two whole days, which, at his age, feels like an eternity. I know. I remember how slowly time moved when I was four years old.
I lay a hand on his narrow shoulder. “I miss her too.”
He turns onto his back, blinking up at me with eyes that are strikingly similar to mine. “Will you really find her?”
I force a smile. “Of course.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” I smooth a hand over his curls. “Do you want me to read you a story?” Maybe it will help him fall asleep.
He makes an affirmative sound.
I stand up and aim for the bookshelf, but he catches my hand and tugs on it. When I give him my attention, he points at the tattered book on the nightstand.
“You want me to read the story about the yellow plane?”
He bobs his head up and down.
Of course he’d want to read the one his mother read to him every night for as long as he can remember.
I take the book and sit down again. “Move over.”
He scoots to the middle of the bed, making space for me. As soon as I’m sitting, shoes and all, on the bed with my back against the headboard and my ankles crossed, he cuddles up to me. I throw an arm over his shoulders, offering him the little comfort I can, which will never make up for his mother’s absence.
He makes the dinosaur sit next to him, and then he turns his face to the illustration of the yellow plane as I open the book.
I read without registering the words coming out of my mouth. I’m too focused on Noah’s misery and on what the fuck I’m missing about Tatiana’s escape.
After a while, he dozes off. I kiss the top of his head and close the book.
I should tuck him in and go back to work. My men, as well as Sav’s, are spread out through the city, searching the airports, train and bus stations, hotels, and even shelters. Our connections on the force are pulling street camera recordings while my hacker is running face recognition programs.
I’ve circled the area where we were attacked a dozen times and combed through each alley and side street. I’ve knocked on every door, asking if anyone had seen anything. I have men widening that circle right this moment, using sniffer dogs in the hope of picking up Tatiana’s trail.
Still, it’s not enough.
I should do something.
Anything.
Yet I don’t move for fear of waking Noah. I inhale his little boy smell of apples and soap. He was happy in his new room with the blue curtains and airplane motive duvet cover when I brought him here. It’s the first room he has all to himself. His new toys and football are displayed on the matching blue shelves.
My assistant, Penelope, did the best she could to make it feel like home for him before I moved my family into my house. Tatiana never got a chance to put her own stamp on the space, to decorate it the way she and Noah wanted. And now Noah is no longer happy, because no matter how comfortable or big his room is, a fundamental part of what makes it home is missing.
I said I’d never lie to him. I will find his mother if it’s the last thing I do. And then I’ll lock her up and throw away the key. I’ll make sure she stays where she belongs for the rest of her days—with me.
Chapter
Seven
Tatiana
* * *
I’m delirious with thirst.
My captors only allow me a few sips of water after long intervals, probably to prevent me from dying too quickly. I read that a person can live approximately three days without water. At least they removed the gag that soaked up my saliva. My mouth is less dry without it.
“Water,” I croak when the door opens and the bulkiest of the men enters.
He’s still wearing a ski mask. I’ve decided to call him Hulk. It’s a way of keeping my wits about me, of distinguishing between my abductors, although it’s been a while now that I’ve seen no one but Hulk.
He unties me and pulls me from the chair.
No!
Not again.
For what it’s worth, I fight as he drags me to the metal trunk in the corner.
It’s futile. I’m no match for his strength.
He lifts the lid and pushes me inside.
“No,” I scream. “Don’t leave me here!”
I don’t have a choice but to curl myself into the too-small space before he slams the lid, closing me into inky darkness.
Panic takes over, stealing my sanity. I can’t spend another day here. Or two. I have no way of telling how many hours at a time he locks me up in this trunk. I’ve lost track of time. All I know is that I’ll go out of my mind.