Baby Trouble. Beth Cornelison

good does that do us?” she asked.

      “My family believed strongly in knowing every employee and in building trust and loyalty among them. If I can find some of the old staff, they’ll help me.”

      She pulled out her cell phone and slapped it into his hand.

      “Let’s see if they bothered to change the phone numbers,” he muttered. He dialed the international number for Spiros Paris and was pleased when the call went through.

      “AbaCo Shipping,” a female voice said in his ear.

      “Marie? Marie Clothier? Is that you?”

      She switched into English to match his. “Oui. Who may I ask, is this?”

      “Nick—” Then he corrected, “Nikolas Spiros.”

      The woman took off in a spate of excited French he only half caught. When she’d finally wound down, he said, “Look, Marie. I need your help. My son has been kidnapped and we’re trying to figure out who did it. I need a list of all the employees fired from the Paris office since AbaCo took over. Is there someone left from the old days who would do that for me? Quietly and quickly?”

      “But of course. Let me connect you with François Guerrard.”

      Nick laughed. “He’s still working? Why didn’t he retire years ago?”

      “He would have if AbaCo hadn’t cut our pensions so badly.”

      “Ahh, I’m sorry. I suppose it goes without saying that it would be best for you if you didn’t mention this little call to anyone at AbaCo?”

      She laughed wryly. “That would be correct, sir. Ahh, it is so good to hear your voice again. I never believed what they said about you—”

      He gently cut off what was likely to become a lengthy monologue from the talkative woman. “Thank you, Marie. I’m afraid I’m in a great hurry. We need to find my son.”

      “Of course, Monsieur Nikolas. I shall pray for him.”

      In a few minutes, a list of fired employees was sitting in his email inbox. Blackledge printed it out and his people went to work tracking down every single person on the list. Nick and Laura stayed out of the way and let the FBI invoke its formidable connections with Interpol to do the job.

      The leaves were identified as belonging to plants indigenous to the mid-Atlantic states. Nick supposed knowing Adam was in one of a half-dozen states was better than nothing, but not much.

      Laura spoke to Nick thoughtfully. “Why did Lisbet make a point of saying they were warm? It has been unseasonably warm all over the East Coast this past week. Is there somewhere substantially colder within this region that would prompt her comment?”

      “Mountains or a coast,” Nick replied.

      Laura turned to one of the FBI agents. “Would those leaves we saw be more likely to grow at high elevations or near the ocean?”

      “The second leaf is a bush that tolerates salt spray well, ma’am.”

      “The shore it is,” Laura announced.

      Blackledge nodded his agreement. “You sure you don’t want back into this business, ma’am?”

      She laughed without much humor. “Just get my son back so I can be a mommy.”

      Nick put an arm around her shoulders and was gratified when she leaned against him. Within the hour, hundreds of law enforcement officials were combing the woods of coastal Virginia, searching for an isolated cabin. It was a needle-in-a-haystack hunt, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

      A command center was set up in their living room to coordinate the various search teams, and he and Laura were only in the way. They eventually retreated to their suite to let Blackledge’s team do its job.

      It was late afternoon when Nick’s phone dinged to indicate an incoming text message. He checked it quickly. “Kloffman. He wants to meet us in Washington tonight. Says he’ll have what we need then. Do you think Agent Blackledge will lynch us if we sneak out again?”

      She answered gravely, “I do. I’d suggest we tell him what we’re up to this time.” Their gazes met in mutual understanding. This was one of those times when no words were necessary for them to communicate perfectly.

      Nick nodded. His thoughts drifted to his wife, Meredith, and the roadblock she represented to his future with Laura. “You do know that the minute I’m clear of her, I’m going to ask you to marry me, right?”

      “And you’re so sure I’ll say yes?” Laura replied tightly.

      He stared, thunderstruck. “You wouldn’t marry me?”

      “Nick, my son is gone. Everything I thought I knew about you turns out to be a lie. You have a wife. You cheated on her with me in Paris.”

      “Everything I know of her says I barely knew her and she no doubt married me purely for my money. There’s no way it was a love match.”

      “I don’t care how good or bad she was. You broke your marriage vows. I have a problem with that.”

      “I don’t remember any of it,” he replied with barely restrained frustration. “I can’t imagine ever having married her. And even if I actually thought it was a good idea at some point, I’m not that man anymore.”

      “It’s a lot for me to accept on faith.”

      “Laura, I love you with all my heart. Adam will come home safe and sound. This crisis will pass, and I’ll still love you. I’ll love you till the end of time.”

      “Is love enough?” she asked in anguish. “I’m not so sure.”

      “Love is everything,” he replied with a desperate calm that belied the panic beneath.

      Without replying, she turned and walked out of the room. His heart broke a little more. He had to find a way to put his family back together. There had to be a way.

      How was it she could feel like she was drowning even though she wasn’t even in water? Laura’s world had come apart and she didn’t have any idea how to put it back together again. She’d have thought her stress would have gone down slightly after the note from the kidnapper. The FBI profilers were confident that Adam wasn’t in any immediate danger, and whoever had him was on their side in the fight against AbaCo. That had to count for something, right?

      But instead, she could hardly function. Her thoughts were disjointed, she was unable to plan anything, and even the smallest of tasks overwhelmed her. Only Ellie kept her sane. The infant adhered to a steady schedule of eating, cuddling, and sleeping, and Laura was immensely grateful for the infant’s rhythms.

      It took twice as long as usual, but eventually, Laura formed a plan of action. First on her agenda was to contact some people at the CIA and see if Kloffman’s claims were true. Had the agency cut a deal with him to block the AbaCo trial from going forward in the name of national security? If so, she planned to pull every string she had at her disposal to get the CIA to delay making the announcement for a few more days.

      Laura slept restlessly in the recliner in Ellie’s room, waking up a little after dawn. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a familiar phone number. The CIA operator forwarded her call to her old boss.

      “Hi, Clifton, it’s Laura Delaney.”

      “I wondered how long it was going to take you to call me.”

      “So it’s true? There’s a deal to stop the AbaCo trial?”

      “You know I’m not allowed to comment on such things, dear.”

      “And you understand the life of an innocent child is on the line?”

      He sighed. “I do. I was so sorry to hear about the kidnapping. Is there any ransom demand?”

      She