The Lost Daughter. Diane Chamberlain

weeks from now.”

      “Then it’s not the baby,” CeeCee said as if she knew about these things. Babies did come early, but a backache had nothing to do with labor. At least she hoped it didn’t. She walked over to the bookshelf. “You want a book to read?” she asked.

      “I don’t want a book,” Genevieve said. “If you think I can concentrate on reading, you’re as crazy as your friends.”

      CeeCee sat down in the chair by the window and folded her hands on her lap.

      “What color’s your real hair?” Genevieve asked.

      “None of your business.” She realized that she’d completely forgotten about disguising her voice. Too late now.

      “I don’t think you’re as tough as you pretend.” Genevieve almost smiled. “You really should have gotten a tougher mask than that.”

      CeeCee touched the thin plastic mask.

      “Do you go to Carolina?” Genevieve asked. “You’re not one of my students, are you? You sound like one of them.”

      “I wouldn’t tell you if I were,” CeeCee said.

      Genevieve looked annoyed. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

      Damn. She’d hoped they could get through this entire fiasco without either of them needing to use the bathroom.

      “I have to go with you,” CeeCee said.

      “Are those your orders?” Genevieve moved forward on the couch as though preparing to stand up. “Don’t let her out of your sight?” She was talking to her like she might a child. It was irksome enough to be annoying, and CeeCee was glad. It made Genevieve less sympathetic.

      “I think for myself,” CeeCee said.

      “Fine,” Genevieve said. “I need to go to the bathroom. Now.”

      “Stay here one minute.” CeeCee darted into the kitchen and grabbed the gun. Just touching it started her hands shaking again. She checked to be sure the safety was on, then carried it into the living room.

      “Whoa!” Genevieve said. “You don’t need that!”

      “You can get up now, and I’ll walk with you,” CeeCee said.

      Genevieve struggled to her feet, giving CeeCee a wide berth as she walked toward the hallway. She held one arm out as if she could block a bullet with her hand. The other hand she held protectively over her belly.

      “It’s that door on the left,” CeeCee said.

      Genevieve walked into the bathroom and started to shut the door behind her, but CeeCee stuck out her foot to keep it open.

      “Oh, come on,” Genevieve said. “What do you think I’m going to do in here?” She pointed to the small, square window above the toilet. “I’m hardly going to be able to get through that window.”

      That was true. CeeCee didn’t want to watch her while she went to the bathroom, anyway.

      “Okay.” She removed her foot from in front of the door. “You have to leave it open a crack, though.”

      “Fine,” Genevieve said again.

      CeeCee leaned against the wall, waiting, listening to the rustle of clothing on the other side of the door. Genevieve urinated for a long time, then flushed the toilet. CeeCee straightened, gun held in front of her, as she waited for her captive to walk into the hallway. Then suddenly, so quickly CeeCee had no time to react, the bathroom door slammed shut and the key clicked into place in the lock.

       Chapter Twelve

       Oh, CeeCee, I get so scared sometimes! I’m not afraid of dying anymore, but I’m afraid of what will happen to you and that’s what keeps me awake at night. During the day, when I’m thinking rationally, I know you’ll be okay. At night, though, the worst thoughts fill my head. I have to remind myself that you have loads of gumption! I think you may need it, darling girl.

      “OPEN UP!” CEECEE POUNDED ON THE BATHROOM DOOR.

      “I just want to be by myself,” Genevieve said. “I told you. I can’t get out through the window, so just give me some space, all right?”

      “No, it’s not all right.” CeeCee was frantic. She kicked at the door and rattled the knob. “Open it!” She heard the medicine-cabinet door squeak open and remembered the razor blades. The cookie she’d eaten rushed into her throat. Hands trembling, she aimed the gun at the doorjamb near the lock, released the safety and pulled the trigger.

      The explosion nearly knocked her off her feet, and Genevieve screamed. The door and jamb were splintered and CeeCee reached for the knob. The damn thing was still locked. “Open the door!” Behind the mask, tears burned her eyes.

      “All right, all right!” Genevieve pulled the door open and raised her hands in the air. “Are you out of your mind?” she asked. “Don’t shoot!”

      Holding the gun on the woman, CeeCee checked the medicine cabinet and was relieved to see that the packet of razor blades was still there. “Get into the living room,” she said.

      “Fine,” Genevieve said. “Just stop pointing that thing at me.”

      CeeCee flipped the safety back on and lowered the gun to her side as they walked into the living room. Genevieve sat down on the sofa again, leaning forward and rubbing her back. “You’re a loose cannon, aren’t you?” she asked.

      “Keep quiet,” CeeCee said. She was glad now of the mask. The plastic features would remain frozen no matter what emotions she felt behind them. Her trembling hands in their white gloves, though, were a giveaway.

      “Put that gun away. Please,” Genevieve said.

      She sat down in the chair by the window again and rested the gun in her lap, wondering what they would do now. Would they sit there facing each other for the entire night? Maybe all day tomorrow as well? Exactly how far was it to Jacksonville? She looked at her watch. Quarter past midnight! She’d had no idea it was that late. Were Tim and Marty in Jacksonville yet?

      “Please take off that mask,” Genevieve said.

      CeeCee shook her head. Her scalp was perspiring beneath the wig. It felt like worms crawling through her hair and she wondered who else might have worn the wig before her. She longed to rip it off and scratch her head.

      “Why are you doing this, Sleeping Beauty?” Genevieve’s voice had softened, and with it, her features. She was very pretty. Maybe beautiful under other circumstances. Right now, her skin was a little too pale. Wan, even. Her blue eyes looked clouded and troubled in the overhead light, and there were two small, vertical lines between her eyebrows.

      “I’m doing it because Tim’s sister is a victim of the system,” she said, parroting Naomi’s words. They sounded as inauthentic as they felt coming from her mouth.

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” Genevieve asked. “‘A victim of the system’?”

      “I don’t want to talk about it.” CeeCee felt the tremor in her hands again. She clutched the handle of the gun between her hands to stop their shaking.

      “Do you know her? The sister?”

      “No, but I know Tim and I know he loves her and I love him so I want to help him. “The words spilled out before she could stop them.

      Genevieve cocked her head, looking at her differently. “You’re in love with Tim?” she asked.

      “Yes, but that’s not the only reason I’m—”

      “There’s something you should know about your … boyfriend,” Genevieve said. “I taught him in my Spanish class, Sleeping Beauty. He’s a … a womanizer.”

      “You