The Lost Daughter. Diane Chamberlain

come in later to tuck you in.”

      “Okay,” she said, returning her attention to her book.

      “She loves when we have company,” Naomi said as she turned the corner into the bedroom at the end of the hall. “Partly because she can’t tie up the bathroom.”

      This had to be Naomi and Forrest’s room. The double mattress rested on a frame off the floor and there were two old mismatched dressers. The room was poorly lit and smelled stuffy.

      “Sit here in front of the mirror,” Naomi said.

      Obediently, CeeCee sat on the edge of the mattress. She felt young and shy with Naomi, who had to be at least fifteen years her senior. In the dim light, she could barely see herself in the mirror above the dresser. She looked a little like a nun—pale-faced, with a habit made of long brown hair.

      Emmanuel let out a whimper as Naomi lifted him from the sling.

      “Can you hold him for a minute?” she asked. “I have to get something out of the closet.”

      “I’d love to.” She took the baby from Naomi’s arms and cradled him on her shoulder. Emmanuel mewed a little, then let his head fall against her as he sucked his fingers. His feathery blond hair brushed her cheek, and she pressed her lips to his temple. “How old is he?” she asked.

      “Four months.” Naomi opened a closet that was so neatly organized CeeCee felt a kinship with her. The outside of the house and its yard were a mess, but inside, it was clear that Naomi was in control.

      “You really have a nice house,” she said, as Naomi climbed onto a step stool inside the closet.

      “Thanks.” Naomi reached for a cardboard box on the shelf above the clothes. “We’ve been in it eight years, which is hard for me to believe. Time flies.” Grunting a little, she lowered the box to her chest and stepped off the stool. “Eight years, CeeCee.” Blowing away the thin layer of dust on the top of the box, she set it on the bed. “We’ve worked so hard to build a new life for ourselves here,” she said. “I know I’ve been … I’ve been an ungracious hostess tonight. Forrest thinks that helping you is no big deal. And I think what the three of you are doing is magnificent. I don’t disapprove at all, don’t get me wrong. That girl—Andie—she’s a victim of the system and you’re doing what needs to be done.”

      It meant something to her, hearing Naomi say that. She trusted this capable woman, and if Naomi thought what they were doing was magnificent, then maybe it was.

      “But involving us …” Naomi’s voice trailed off as she looked at Emmanuel, asleep on CeeCee’s shoulder. “We have too much to lose now.”

      “I’m sorry.” She felt terrible. “I just went along with what they told me. They said SCAPE members would help us and I—”

      “And we will help you. Just please … please forget you ever met us.”

      CeeCee nodded. “I will,” she said. “We will.”

      “Now let me take him back so we can give you an alter ego.” Naomi lifted Emmanuel from CeeCee’s arms and settled him once again in the sling. She opened the top of the box. “You’ve never done anything like this before, I take it,” she said.

      “Like what?” CeeCee asked.

      “Something you need a disguise for.” Naomi began pulling out wigs and masks.

      “Oh,” CeeCee said. She was amazed that anyone would have a box of disguises in her closet. “No, I haven’t.”

      Naomi put her fist into a short brunette wig and fluffed up the curls. “I hope it’s not only your first time, but also your last,” she said.

      “Me, too,” CeeCee said.

      Naomi set down the dark wig, then pulled out one with fluffy blond hair. She turned it upside down and gave it a shake. “It’s brave and loving, what you’re doing,” she said. “I’d like to think that if my kids were ever in the position Andie is, someone like you would help them out of it. But we have to make sure you can’t be identified. Not just for your sake, but for ours. So if you ever wake up in the middle of the night with a guilty conscience, kindly don’t turn yourself in. They’ll pick your brain until you can’t see straight, and the next thing you know, you’ll lead them right to our door.”

      “I won’t,” CeeCee reassured her again. “Tim said it’s really impossible for me to get caught. That there’s no way they can figure out where we’ll be holding the wife.”

      “You’ll be spending a lot of time with her, though. And once she’s free, they’ll be looking for the person who held her hostage. That’s why this disguise has to be foolproof.” She held up four wigs, two in each hand. “So, which color do you like?” she asked.

      CeeCee was still stuck on her words: They’ll be looking for the person who held her hostage. God, that was a frightening sentence! She studied the fake-looking hair with a new intensity. “This one.” She pointed to the blond wig. “It’s as different from mine as it can be.”

      Naomi dropped the other wigs to the bed. “Put your hair up and we’ll pin it.” She stood up, one hand under Emmanuel, and pulled a box of bobby pins from a dresser drawer. CeeCee wrapped her hair around and around her head, flattening it in place with the pins. Then she pulled on the wig.

      “A perfect fit,” Naomi said. “How does it feel?”

      “Okay,” she said. She looked in the mirror. It was clown hair, thick and curly and silly looking. She touched it with her hands, then closed her eyes, suddenly weary. “Naomi, can I ask you a question?”

      “You can always ask,” Naomi said. “Whether I answer is another matter.”

      “I’m …” She wasn’t sure how to express her thought.

      Naomi had her hands in the box again. “You’re what?” she asked.

      “I’m worried about how Tim and I will get to see each other after this is over, with him having to go underground and everything.”

      “It won’t be easy.” Naomi pulled out a black eye patch, glanced at it, then tossed it on the bed. “Forrest and I managed to find a way, though.”

      “But you’re both in hiding, right?”

      “We met in SCAPE many years ago,” she said, “but more than that, it’s better you don’t know.”

      “Okay,” she said. She was catching on that no one wanted to know too much about anyone else in this business.

      “You have very distinctive features.” Naomi studied her face. “You’ll really need a full-face kind of mask.” She rummaged through the box and pulled out a plastic mask, the face of a princess topped by a gold crown. “I think this is supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or something,” she said. “It might be a little small.” She stretched the elastic over CeeCee’s head and set the mask in place. “No, it’s perfect,” she said. “Can you breathe okay?”

      “I can breathe,” she said, although she wondered how long she could wear the mask without going crazy.

      “Good. Don’t take it off while you’re with the wife. If you have to eat, do it where she can’t see you. And try to disguise your voice when you talk to her,” Naomi said. “And the final thing is, you don’t want to leave fingerprints anywhere in the house or cabin or whatever it is. So.” She pulled out a plastic bag filled with gloves. Yellow rubber gloves. Clear latex gloves like a doctor would wear. Heavy wool men’s gloves. “Let’s go with these light white ones.” Naomi handed her a pair of lacy white gloves. They looked as though they’d never been worn. “Try them on.”

      CeeCee pulled on the gloves. The fabric was stretchy and felt warm on her hands. “Good thing it’s not summer or I’d die in this getup,” she said.

      Naomi nodded,