.

ignored him, focused solely on getting to the sitter’s house. Denial warred with logic, all of it blurred by a frantic desperation. Digging into her front pocket, she found her car keys.

      She’d barely pressed the unlock button when her wrist was caught. Bigger, calloused, Daniel’s hand took her key and held her in place.

      “Let me go.” She reached for the key, missed.

      “You’re in no condition to drive,” he said in that unflappable way he had.

      “Let me go!” She twisted against his grip, made zero progress.

      His eyes were filled with concern. “What happened?”

      “My son is—is...” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not until she had proof this wasn’t some sick joke. She had to see for herself that Aiden wasn’t safely where she’d left him early this morning. “The sitter called,” she fibbed.

      “I’ll drive.”

      “No.” She couldn’t, this was her son, her responsibility. “I’m okay. I just need a second.” She gulped in air, forced it out. “The call startled me, that’s all.” She held out her open palm for the car key. “I’m okay. I need to get over there.” Another breath. “I’ll come right back.” A cold wave of fear crashed over her. Please don’t let that promise turn into a lie.

      Through narrowed eyes, his mouth thin and tugged down on one side, her boss studied her with the same drawn-out assessment he gave to imperfect corners and uneven subfloors. Reluctantly, he handed her the car keys.

      She pushed her lips in to a smile, knew she’d failed to sell it when he scowled. “I’ll be right back.” Opening the car door, she slid behind the wheel. As she pulled away from the curb, she used the hands-free button on her steering wheel to dial Rachel again.

      With every unanswered ring, she cursed Aiden’s father, cursed herself for falling for the glossy facade hiding his ugly nature. She reminded herself that without him, she wouldn’t have Aiden, the love of her life. Of course, without her brutal ex she wouldn’t be terrified for Aiden’s safety right now, either. It was a circular, unwinnable chicken-and-egg argument that had no real bearing on the crisis at hand.

      In her rush to get to the sitter’s house and see firsthand what was going on, Shannon pushed the speed limits and ran yellow lights, heedless of the truck following her.

      She’d left her husband nearly five years ago, relieved for once that his connections paved the way for what might have been the fastest divorce on record in New York. After much deliberation, she’d chosen Philadelphia to start over, creating a new life for herself just in time to become a mother.

      How had anyone tied Aiden to his father? She’d changed her name and left her ex’s name off Aiden’s birth certificate, refusing to saddle her son with that burden.

      She parked in front of the sitter’s house and raced up the lawn, shouting for her friend and her son. “Rachel! Aiden!”

      Dialing Rachel’s cell phone again, she followed the sounds around to the backyard. Her breath stuttered when she saw the gate swinging back and forth in the breeze, the latch broken. She pushed through, still shouting.

      The yard was empty and far too quiet. The swings on the playset swayed listlessly, no boyish laughter spilled from the fort and the trucks in the sandbox were stalled out.

      Aiden had raced to the playset when she’d dropped him off this morning while Rachel’s twin boys, a year older than Aiden, had been carving ruts in the sandbox with their dump trucks.

      As she turned for the kitchen door, her heart leaped into her throat. The door had been forced open, the doorjamb a splintered mess above and below the lock. Her phone rang in her hand as she debated whether or not to call for help.

      “Hello?”

      “If you call the police, I’ll send the kid back to you in pieces,” a man said.

      She blinked and turned her face to the sun in an effort to erase the terrifying images the rough, mean voice created.

      “Mommy!”

      Aiden’s voice carried over the line, bringing her a rush of relief along with the pain of knowing a stranger held her son hostage. “Let me talk to him,” she pleaded.

      “Sure thing. Just as soon as his father toes the line. I want my property and an apology to go with it.”

      The call ended and the cruelty in that unfamiliar voice quashed Shannon’s hope. Aiden would not be inside the house.

      A sob tore free from her throat on a tide of emotion. Her son was gone, out of sight and out of reach, but still alive. Would the same be true for Rachel and her boys? If her ugly past had brought harm to her friend and neighbor, too, she’d never forgive herself.

      “Stop!”

      She spun around, struggling to fit her boss into the miserable context of this godforsaken day. “Daniel?” He should be at the site, not here. “How did you...?” Her voice trailed off as she figured it out.

      “I followed you,” he replied, confirming her guess. “What are you doing here?”

      Rachel’s phone had gone silent, so she hit redial. “My son.” She choked. “Should be here. H-he’s not.” Daniel wasn’t a cop, but he knew plenty of them. She had to tread carefully. Aiden’s life depended on it. “The sitter should be inside.” With the phone in her hand, she fought tremors as she pointed to the busted door. “I need to check on them.”

      “Hold up.” He stepped in front of her. “We need to call the police first.”

      “No!” She made a grab for his phone. “You can’t call anyone or he’ll hurt Aiden.”

      “He who? What’s going on?”

      “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “Just hold off on the police for a minute and let me check on my sitter and her kids. I’m going inside.” She used her elbow to nudge aside the broken door, calling Rachel’s name again. Daniel followed, silent as a shadow. She found her friend’s cell phone under the toe kick of the kitchen island, the screen cracked.

      As the ringing died and the voice mail message came through her phone, Shannon caught the unmistakable sound of crying children from the other side of the basement door. The doorknob was broken off, preventing their escape.

      “Rachel? Boys? Are you okay?”

      The crying faded and she heard shushing noises. “Shannon, is that you?”

      “Yes.” Relieved, she felt her hammering pulse ease a bit, though her friend’s voice was faint and full of pain. “Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

      “No. No police!” Rachel coughed and sputtered, tried to talk again. “I’m fine. The boys are fine. They said no police.”

      They. So more than one person attacked her neighbor, kidnapped her son. “I know. It’s okay,” Shannon assured her. “She sounds weak,” she murmured to Daniel. “How do we get her out?”

      Daniel ran his hands over the door hinges. “On it. Give me a second.” He jogged out of the house.

      As she spoke through the door with the boys, they confirmed Rachel’s claim that they weren’t injured. She hoped the same held true for their mother.

      Daniel returned, tool belt slung over his shoulder. He made quick work of popping out the hinges and Rachel and her boys emerged from the basement.

      For a long moment, Rachel clung to Shannon, quaking from the ordeal. When she finally sat down at the kitchen table, her brown eyes were filled with worry and sorrow. Her gaze shifted between Shannon and Daniel. “You didn’t call the police? He’s not a cop?”

      “No,” Shannon replied. “This is my boss, Daniel Jennings. He followed me when I left the job site.”

      “Thank