Chapter 7
I don’t remember leaving the bank.
I remember Mark driving.
I remember calling 911.
I remember my mother screaming Lily’s name through the phone.
I remember Marcus’s black SUV disappearing in the opposite direction.
Most of all, I remember one thought.
I had promised Lily she would be safe.
Less than twenty-four hours later, she was gone.
“Drive faster.”
“I’m doing ninety.”
“Faster!”
“If we crash, you’re no use to her.”
I called Mom again.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Jenna finally picked up.
“Daniel.”
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“Mom went upstairs for maybe thirty seconds. I was in the kitchen. The alarm made a noise and then everything went black.”
“You were supposed to watch her!”
“I know!”
“Where were you?”
“I told you. Kitchen.”
“Why?”
“I was making Lily breakfast.”
“And she was alone?”
“She was coloring in the living room!”
I slammed my fist against the dashboard.
Mark shouted, “Stop.”
“I trusted her.”
“Stop blaming people before we know what happened.”
“I trusted Vanessa. I trusted Jenna. I trusted everybody.”
“And Marcus wants exactly this.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He wants you angry and isolated.”
“I don’t care what he wants.”
“You should.”
Mark’s voice hardened.
“Because if you become predictable, he controls you.”
I forced myself to breathe.
When we reached the house, police already filled the street.
I jumped from the car before Mark stopped completely.
“LILY!”
Mom ran toward me.
Her face was white.
“I’m sorry.”
I grabbed her shoulders.
“What happened?”
“She was right there.”
“Tell me.”
Mom cried.
“The back window broke. I ran toward the sound. Jenna came in from the kitchen. Then we heard the front door slam.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Car?”
“A white van.”
Jenna came outside.
Her hands were bleeding from broken glass.
“I tried to chase it.”
I looked at the driveway camera.
Destroyed.
A black scorch mark covered the side panel.
Police had already started collecting footage from neighbors.
One officer approached.
“Mr. Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“We have an Amber Alert being prepared.”
“Marcus Hale.”
“We’re aware.”
“He was at the bank.”
“What?”
“He was watching me.”
Mark handed over his phone.
“We photographed his vehicle.”
The officer radioed the information immediately.
Then another detective stepped from the house.
“Mr. Brooks, we found something.”
On the living room floor, where Lily had been coloring, sat a photograph.
Claire.
Not the hospital photograph Vanessa had taken.
A different one.
Claire holding Lily at three months old.
Across Claire’s face, someone had written:
SHE SHOULD HAVE SIGNED.
My stomach turned.
Marcus.
The detective asked, “Do you recognize the photo?”
“Yes.”
“Was it normally in the house?”
“No.”
That meant the kidnapper brought it.
“Anything else?”
The detective handed me a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a tiny pink hair clip.
Lily had been wearing it that morning.
My knees almost gave out.
Mark caught me.
“She was here.”
“I know.”
“She was scared.”
“We’re going to find her.”
I turned on him.
“Don’t say that unless you know.”
He didn’t answer.
My phone rang.
Blocked number.
Every officer around me went still.
The detective whispered, “Answer. Speaker.”
I did.
“Daddy?”
Lily.
My entire body shook.
“Lily!”
She was crying quietly.
“Daddy, I want to go home.”
“I’m coming.”
The detective gestured for me to keep her talking.
“Sweetheart, are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can you see where you are?”
“A room.”
“What kind?”
“There’s a bed.”
“Any windows?”
A male voice interrupted.
“That’s enough.”
Marcus.
“Put her back on.”
“Daniel.”
“PUT MY DAUGHTER BACK ON.”
“You have a temper problem.”
“I swear to God—”
Mark grabbed my shoulder.
I stopped.
Marcus laughed softly.
“That right there is why Vanessa’s statement will be so useful.”
“You kidnapped a child.”
“Did I?”
“She’s with you.”
“You heard my voice. That proves nothing.”
“You want the documents.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
The truth.
“Then take them.”
The detective shook his head sharply.
Marcus continued.
“You will bring the original case from box 317.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you.”
“And you release Lily.”
“If the documents are complete.”
I looked at the detective.
He wrote on a pad:
AGREE. BUY TIME.
“Fine.”
“And Daniel?”
“What?”
“No police.”
I almost laughed.
“You think I’m coming alone?”
“If you want your daughter alive, yes.”
Every person around me froze.
My voice became very quiet.
“If you touch her—”
“Do not threaten me.”
“You already know what I’ll do.”
“I know exactly what you’ll do. That’s why this has been easy.”
He disconnected.
The detective immediately began issuing orders.
Trace.
Tower data.
Vehicle checks.
Traffic cameras.
I looked at Mark.
“The case.”
“It’s in my car.”
“We give it to him.”
“Copies first.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
Mark grabbed my arm.
“Claire preserved that evidence for three years. We are not handing over the only originals.”
“Lily matters more.”
“Yes. Which is why we make copies, keep the originals secure, and give him something convincing enough to buy us time.”
The detective agreed.
“We can reproduce the folders.”
“No trackers,” I said.
He looked at me.
“We need a way to follow—”
“He’ll check.”
“We have methods he may not detect.”
“No.”
“Mr. Brooks—”
“You didn’t hear him yesterday. He planned this for years.”
Mark stepped in.
“Daniel is right about one thing. Assume sophisticated countersurveillance.”
The detective nodded reluctantly.
“We’ll plan accordingly.”
Then one of the officers shouted from the neighbor’s driveway.
“We’ve got video!”
We crowded around a tablet.
The neighbor’s camera had captured the white van.
It pulled in front of my house at 9:11.
A man in utility clothing got out.
Baseball cap.
Sunglasses.
He entered the side yard.
Four minutes later he returned carrying Lily.
She was wrapped in a blanket.
Her face visible.
Screaming.
My chest collapsed.
Then a woman came out behind him.
I stopped breathing.
The detective zoomed in.
Jenna whispered, “No.”
Mom grabbed my arm.
The woman’s face became clear.
Vanessa.
I stared.
“How?”
She had been arrested.
Mark looked at the detective.
“She was released?”
The detective began calling immediately.
Three minutes later, we had the answer.
Vanessa had been booked.
Processed.
Then released overnight pending charges.
Nobody had notified me.
Her attorney argued she had a residence separate from mine and posed no immediate risk.
The custody conspiracy evidence was still being reviewed.
I wanted to break something.
Instead I walked into the house and stared at the empty spot where Lily had been coloring.
One sheet of paper remained.
A purple crayon picture.
Three people.
Me.
Lily.
Claire with wings.
Above us she had drawn a giant yellow sun.
Mom stood behind me.
“She made that this morning.”
I sat on the floor.
“I failed her.”
“No.”
“I brought Vanessa here.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I ignored signs.”
“You trusted your wife.”
“She told me she loved Lily.”
“You believed her because normal people don’t marry a grieving father just to steal his child.”
I looked up.
“What if that’s exactly why she married me?”
Mom didn’t answer.
And I knew.
It probably was.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Vanessa.
I opened it.
A photograph.
Lily sitting on a bed.
Tears on her face.
Holding the pink stuffed rabbit from the blue present.
Under the photograph:
She’s fine. Do what Marcus says.
I typed:
WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?
Vanessa responded.
You would never have chosen me over Claire.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message.
You never loved me the way you loved a dead woman.
The rage that came over me was different from before.
This wasn’t about money alone.
Vanessa hated Claire.
A woman she had never met.
She hated the photographs.
The memories.
The way Lily still called Claire Mommy.
She had been competing against a dead woman inside her own head.
And now Lily was paying for it.
I typed:
LILY IS FOUR.
Vanessa replied.
And she reminded me every day that I would always be second.
I showed Mark.
His expression hardened.
“This matters.”
“To what?”
“Motive.”
“I don’t care about motive.”
“You will when this goes to court.”
“I want Lily back before there is a court.”
Rachel Dean arrived twenty minutes later.
The investigator from Claire’s video.
She was in her early forties now.
Short dark hair.
Sharp eyes.
She walked directly toward me.
“I know where they may have taken her.”
Every officer turned.
“Where?” I demanded.
Rachel pulled out a map.
“Marcus’s father owned several properties. Most were sold.”
She pointed south.
“One wasn’t.”
An old farmhouse near the Alabama state line.
“Why there?”
“Because it was where Marcus used to take Claire when they were dating.”
Mom whispered, “Claire mentioned a farm once.”
Rachel nodded.
“She told me he isolated her there for three days after she tried to break up with him.”
My blood went cold.
“Address.”
The detective interrupted.
“We’re not sending you there.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re not going.”
I looked at him.
“My daughter is there.”
“We don’t know that.”
Rachel said, “There’s something else.”
She showed us property records.
“The farm was transferred six months ago.”
“To who?”
“An LLC.”
Mark frowned.
“What LLC?”
Rachel looked at me.
“V.B. Holdings.”
Vanessa Brooks.
She had bought Marcus’s old family property.
The same woman who claimed she had only met him recently.
They had been connected for at least six months.
Maybe longer.
My phone rang again.
Marcus.
I answered.
“You have the case?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Let me speak to Lily.”
“You will.”
“Now.”
A pause.
Then Lily came on.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“Vanessa says you don’t want me.”
I closed my eyes.
“She is lying.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
Marcus took the phone.
“Touching.”
I clenched my teeth.
“Where?”
“Bring the case to the old Cumberland grain warehouse at six.”
Rachel stared at me.
She shook her head.
Wrong location.
A decoy.
Marcus continued.
“You come alone.”
Then he added:
“And Daniel?”
May you like
“What?”
“If I see a single police car, Lily disappears forever.”
