“When did you realize that?” Myron said. “When you saw us?”

“I want a lawyer,” Jake Wolf said. “Lorraine, don’t say anything else.”

Erik Biel stepped forward. “I don’t care about any of this. My daughter. Where the hell is my daughter?”

No one moved. No one spoke. The night stayed silent except for the scream of sirens.

Lance Banner was the first cop out of his car, but dozens of squad cars descended on the Roosevelt Mall parking lot. They kept the flashing lights on. Everyone’s face went from blue to red. The effect was dizzying.

“Aimee,” Erik said softly. “Where is she?”

Myron tried to keep calm, tried to concentrate. He stepped to the side with Win. Win’s face, as ever, remained unruffled.

“So,” Win said, “where are we?”

“It’s not Davis,” Myron said. “We checked him out. It doesn’t look like it was Van Dyne. He pulled a gun on Jake Wolf because he thought that he’d done it. And the Wolfs claim, somewhat convincingly, that it wasn’t them.”

“Any other suspects?”

“Not that I can think of.”

Win said, “Then we need to look at them again.”

“Erik thinks she’s dead.”

Win nodded. “That’s what I mean,” he said. “When I say we need to look at them again.”

“You think one of them killed her and got rid of the body?”

Win did not bother replying.

“My God,” Myron said. He looked back over at Erik. “Have we been looking at this wrong from the beginning?”

“I can’t see how.”

Myron’s cell phone chirped. He looked down at the caller ID and saw the number was blocked.

“Hello?”

“It’s Investigator Loren Muse. Do you remember me?”

“Of course.”

“I just got an anonymous call,” she said. “Someone claimed they spotted Aimee Biel yesterday.”

“Where?”

“On Livingston Avenue. Aimee was in the passenger seat of a Toyota Corolla. The driver pretty much fits the description of Drew Van Dyne.”

Myron frowned. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what she said.”

“He’s dead, Muse.”

“Who?”

“Drew Van Dyne.”

Erik came over and stood next to Myron.

And that was when it happened.

Erik’s cell phone rang.

He brought the phone up. When he saw the number on the caller ID, Erik nearly screamed.

“Oh my God. . . .”

Erik snapped the phone to his ear. His eyes were wet. His hand shook so badly he hit the wrong button to answer. He tried again and brought the phone back up. His voice was a panicked scream. “Hello?”

Myron leaned in close enough to hear. There was a moment of static. And then a voice, a teary voice, a familiar voice said, “Daddy?”

Myron’s heart stopped.

Erik’s face collapsed, but his voice was all father. “Where are you, honey? Are you all right?”

“I don’t . . . I’m fine, I think. Daddy?”

“It’s okay, honey. I’m here. Just tell me where you are.”

And she did.

CHAPTER 54

Myron drove. Erik stayed in the passenger seat.

The ride was not a long one.

Aimee had said that she was behind the Little Park near the high school—that same park that Claire had taken her to when she was only three. Erik would not let her off the line. “It’s okay,” he kept saying. “Daddy’s on his way.”

Myron cut time by taking the circle in the wrong direction. He drove over two curbs. He didn’t care. Neither did Erik. Speed was the thing here. The lot was empty. The headlights danced through the night and then, as they made the final turn, the lights landed on a solitary figure.

Myron hit the brake.

Erik said, “Oh my God, oh my sweet dear God. . . .”

He was out of the car. Myron was out fast too. They both started sprinting. But somewhere along the way, Myron let up. Erik took the lead. That was how it should be. Erik swept his daughter into his arms. He took careful hold of her face, as though fearing it was only a dream, a puff of smoke, and that she might vanish again.

Myron stopped and watched. Then he picked up his own cell phone and called Claire.

“Myron? What the hell is going on?”

“She’s okay,” he said.

“What?”

“She’s safe. We’re bringing her home to you now.”

In the car, Aimee was groggy.

“What happened?” Myron asked.

“I think,” Aimee began. Her eyes went wide. Her pupils were dilated. “I think they drugged me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know who kidnapped you?”

She shook her head.

Erik sat in the back with Aimee. He held her. He stroked her hair. He told her over and over again that it was okay now, everything was okay.

Myron said, “Maybe we should take her to a doctor.”

“No,” Erik said. “She needs to go home first.”

“Aimee, what happened?”

“She’s been through hell, Myron,” Erik said. “Give her a chance to catch her breath.”

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

“Why were you in New York?”

“I was supposed to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“About . . .” Her voice faded. Then she said, “This is tough to talk about.”

“We know about Drew Van Dyne,” Myron said. “We know you’re pregnant.”

She closed her eyes.

“Aimee, what happened?”

“I was going to get rid of it.”

“The baby?”

She nodded. “I went to the corner of Fifty-second Street and Sixth. That’s what they told me to do. They were going to help me out. They pulled up in a black car. They told me to get money from the ATM.”

“Who?”

“I never saw them,” Aimee said. “The windows were tinted. They were always in disguise.”

“Disguise?”

“Yes.”

“They. There was more than one?”

“I don’t know. I know I heard a woman’s voice. That much I’m sure.”

“Why didn’t you just go to St. Barnabas?”

Aimee hesitated. “I’m so tired.”

“Aimee?”