fear that had encased it from the instant she’d laid eyes on Emily’s empty carrier still chilled her. She would never feel warm or safe again, until her daughter was back in her arms.
Squinting against the sun and her headache, she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for her car.
As she approached, a patch of white on her windshield caught her eye. It was a scrap of paper, rucked up by the gentle breeze.
She walked faster, her heart thrumming out of rhythm with her quickening strides. Within seconds, its violent pounding sheared her breath.
Was the slip of paper a note from the kidnapper? Information about Emily?
When a couple walking past glanced curiously at her, she realized she was practically running. With a huge effort, she forced herself to slow down. But hope and impatience flared in her chest as she reached out to grab the note.
And froze.
What if the kidnapper was watching her? Or Griffin Stone was peering down at her from the second story? Her mouth went dry. She suppressed the urge to raise her gaze to the window where she’d stood only moments before.
“Just pick it up,” she muttered, swallowing anxiously. Was it a ransom note? A joke? Or further instructions from the kidnapper?
Sunny risked a quick glance around her, and what she saw sent a bolt of disappointment thudding into her chest. There were similar slips of paper on most of the cars nearby.
“Oh, no.” A moan escaped her lips. It was just some stupid advertising flyer.
She pressed the remote key lock and reached for the door handle as tears clogged her throat. Her baby was out there alone and Sunny was helpless, at the mercy of a faceless threat.
Her eyes went back to her windshield. The paper was the same size as the first note, and it appeared to be lined notepaper with a torn edge.
That was no advertising flyer.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t force air past her constricted throat. It was from the kidnapper. She glanced casually around, then looked back toward the building she’d just exited.
She knew how important this evidence was. She knew what she should do. She should leave it there and march back inside and tell Agent Stone about it, so he could examine it and enter it into evidence.
But she couldn’t. The block-printed words from the first note appeared in her mind’s eye.
Tell the police anything about me and your kid will die.
No. She had only one choice. She plucked the piece of paper from under the windshield wiper with fingers that shook so hard she almost dropped it.
Then she climbed into her car.
Heat enveloped her like a sauna. She swallowed, her throat parched with fearful anticipation. Tension radiated up her neck, intensifying her headache. She turned on the engine, then fished a tissue from her purse and used it to carefully spread the note open on the seat beside her. Agent Stone’s warning about destroying DNA echoed in her ears. He was right. She had to preserve the evidence.
More block printing on lined paper. Her scalp tightened. Just like the first one.
She struggled to focus her suddenly tear-filled eyes. The words wavered in front of her.
Emily is still alive, for now.
“Oh, thank God!” Sunny’s breath whooshed out and a scorching relief swept through her. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Emily,” she whispered against her fingers as a sense memory caught her off guard. The powdery smell of her daughter’s sweet, warm neck, the angel-soft down of her hair. Sunny sucked in a sobbing breath. Then she closed her eyes and released the thick sobs that pressed so hard against her chest. She only allowed herself a few seconds of self-indulgence.
Then she looked back at the note, her vision blurred by tears.
Emily is still alive, for now. But you’re spending too much time with the police. Someone you know will be hurt. You’d better point the police in a different direction, or next time, it will be someone you love. Remember, I’m watching you.
“Someone you love…” she whispered, the icy fear taking hold of her again. She shivered, despite the heat.
Oh God! Lil! Had they done something to her dear friend and neighbor? Sunny dug out her cell phone.
The blare of a car horn startled her. She jerked her head up. In her rearview mirror, she saw a car behind her, obviously waiting for her to back out of the parking place. Dazed, she realized she’d been sitting there with her car idling.
Waving an apology at the impatient