Where is she?” he asked Gordon.
“Colorado.”
“Colorado?” he echoed. “Where?”
The detective’s voice was grim. “No one knows.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re checking on it now. The situation is…unusual.”
“But she’s alive, right? Is she okay?”
“At this point, Mr. Parker, you know as much as I do. I’ll get back to you when I have more.” Then the man was gone, leaving James with an empty phone.
And too many questions.
But one course of action he could definitely pursue. “I’m calling your brother,” he said as he gathered a trembling Cele into his arms.
T HREE HOURS AFTER Bella’s picture had appeared on CNN, James stood in the kitchen that once was the heart of their home, willing the telephone to ring. Palms spread on the tile counter Bella had insisted on learning to lay herself, he curled his fingers, one by one.
“Dad?” His son, Cameron, appeared in the doorway, lanky and as tall as James himself. His mixed-race heritage, African-American and Vietnamese, proclaimed itself in the slant of his near-black eyes, the caramel skin. “Have you talked to Mom yet? Is she okay?”
How could he have for one moment believed that you could love an adopted child less than one of your flesh? Cam was attempting to be cool and grown-up, but vulnerability shadowed every line of his frame. His mother, no matter that they shared no genes—his mother was gone, and he needed her here, every bit as much as his diminutive sister, jiggling an impatient foot, did.
Just as James himself. “I’m waiting for a call back.”
Cele leaped to her feet, all coiled fury. “The man who sent in the photo to CNN won’t tell anyone where she is,” she said to her brother.
Cam went soldier straight. “Has he kidnapped her?” He glanced around. “Where are the cops? Shouldn’t the FBI be here?” His outrage and confusion were palpable.
“Slow down, both of you.” His father-as-commander voice, the one he hadn’t had much use for since Cam graduated from high school. “She’s definitely in Colorado, and Detective Gordon connected me with the local sheriff, who says she’s perfectly safe, that he’s been trying to find out her identity from the beginning, and this is merely a precaution to weed out the kooks. We have to be patient.” The lecture was as much for himself as for them.
“We’re her family. She doesn’t have to be protected from us.”
“Yeah,” Cele said grimly. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” For a second, his eldest was a scared kid.
James swung between his own fury and desperation, between the craving to be alone before he put a fist through a wall and the responsibility he hadn’t been required to wield much lately, to take care of his children.
The father won, if barely. “The sheriff says the man is her doctor and that he needs to talk to me first.”
“Why?” Cele was up and pacing again. “What’s wrong?”
The phone sounded unnaturally loud. Cam leaped for it, clutched it for a second as though he might answer, then handed it to James.
James hit the talk button and only just resisted the urge to move somewhere private. “James Parker,” he answered.
“This is Dr. Sam Lincoln. Jane is safe,” an even baritone voice said.
Jane. “That’s not her name.”
“I know—sorry. I’m used to calling her that. The sheriff did tell me, though, that her name is Isabella.”
“Why didn’t she tell you herself? What’s wrong? Let me talk to her.”
“Not until I’m satisfied that you’re really her husband. That you won’t harm her.”
“Harm her? Are you serious? You have no authority to keep my wife from me.”
“Calm down, Mr. Parker. You don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Then you start explaining.”
“Mr. Parker, I understand your anxiety, so I’ll overlook your attitude. For now.”
This man was the key to finding her, so however much his proprietary tone grated on him, James had to get a grip on himself.
“Colorado.”
“Colorado?” he echoed. “Where?”
The detective’s voice was grim. “No one knows.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re checking on it now. The situation is…unusual.”
“But she’s alive, right? Is she okay?”
“At this point, Mr. Parker, you know as much as I do. I’ll get back to you when I have more.” Then the man was gone, leaving James with an empty phone.
And too many questions.
But one course of action he could definitely pursue. “I’m calling your brother,” he said as he gathered a trembling Cele into his arms.
T HREE HOURS AFTER Bella’s picture had appeared on CNN, James stood in the kitchen that once was the heart of their home, willing the telephone to ring. Palms spread on the tile counter Bella had insisted on learning to lay herself, he curled his fingers, one by one.
“Dad?” His son, Cameron, appeared in the doorway, lanky and as tall as James himself. His mixed-race heritage, African-American and Vietnamese, proclaimed itself in the slant of his near-black eyes, the caramel skin. “Have you talked to Mom yet? Is she okay?”
How could he have for one moment believed that you could love an adopted child less than one of your flesh? Cam was attempting to be cool and grown-up, but vulnerability shadowed every line of his frame. His mother, no matter that they shared no genes—his mother was gone, and he needed her here, every bit as much as his diminutive sister, jiggling an impatient foot, did.
Just as James himself. “I’m waiting for a call back.”
Cele leaped to her feet, all coiled fury. “The man who sent in the photo to CNN won’t tell anyone where she is,” she said to her brother.
Cam went soldier straight. “Has he kidnapped her?” He glanced around. “Where are the cops? Shouldn’t the FBI be here?” His outrage and confusion were palpable.
“Slow down, both of you.” His father-as-commander voice, the one he hadn’t had much use for since Cam graduated from high school. “She’s definitely in Colorado, and Detective Gordon connected me with the local sheriff, who says she’s perfectly safe, that he’s been trying to find out her identity from the beginning, and this is merely a precaution to weed out the kooks. We have to be patient.” The lecture was as much for himself as for them.
“We’re her family. She doesn’t have to be protected from us.”
“Yeah,” Cele said grimly. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” For a second, his eldest was a scared kid.
James swung between his own fury and desperation, between the craving to be alone before he put a fist through a wall and the responsibility he hadn’t been required to wield much lately, to take care of his children.
The father won, if barely. “The sheriff says the man is her doctor and that he needs to talk to me first.”
“Why?” Cele was up and pacing again. “What’s wrong?”
The phone sounded unnaturally loud. Cam leaped for it, clutched it for a second as though he might answer, then handed it to James.
James hit the talk button and only just resisted the urge to move somewhere private. “James Parker,” he answered.
“This is Dr. Sam Lincoln. Jane is safe,” an even baritone voice said.
Jane. “That’s not her name.”
“I know—sorry. I’m used to calling her that. The sheriff did tell me, though, that her name is Isabella.”
“Why didn’t she tell you herself? What’s wrong? Let me talk to her.”
“Not until I’m satisfied that you’re really her husband. That you won’t harm her.”
“Harm her? Are you serious? You have no authority to keep my wife from me.”
“Calm down, Mr. Parker. You don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Then you start explaining.”
“Mr. Parker, I understand your anxiety, so I’ll overlook your attitude. For now.”
This man was the key to finding her, so however much his proprietary tone grated on him, James had to get a grip on himself.
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