"I didn't realize he'd ever said he would do that."
"Usually, it was in response to me suggesting he do something more with his life. Johnny was smart. He just didn't use his brain in the right way. He was too ambitious and too greedy." She took a breath. "Back then, I thought Johnny had so much more than I did. He had money and a car, and he had a legitimate family home. Granted, it wasn't that great, but it was better than anything I'd lived in. In retrospect, I can see now that Johnny was a small-time thug in a small-time organization that didn’t make enough money to get its owners out of the lower-class neighborhood they were living in. The Hawkes might have run our neighborhood, but they weren't running the city—not then anyway. I need to find out how much power he has now. And I want you to know, Nathan, that if Johnny is involved in this, he will pay, and I will go after him with everything I have. Please don't have any doubts about that."
"I believe you."
"Thank you." She straightened in her seat as her phone buzzed with an incoming text. "Oh, God."
"Is it from the kidnapper?"
"Yes. It's another photo."
He pulled over to the side of the road as she handed him the phone. It was a picture of a girl about six or seven. Her back was to the camera, but she was wearing a soccer uniform with the number eleven on it. Across the picture was written the word your.
He stared at the photo for a long moment and then handed it back to her. "I'm pretty sure this is Hayley."
"We can't see her face."
"No. But the park she's at—it looks like the place where Grace plays soccer, and that's about two blocks from Hayley's house."
"You know what the next word is going to be, don't you?"
"I think so, but I don't believe it's coming for a while. He wants you to wait, to wonder, to worry."
"I won't stop worrying or wondering, but I'm not going to wait."
He could see a new fire in her eyes. The picture might have been meant to discourage her, but it had actually had the opposite effect. Bree was charged up, ready to do battle, and failure wasn't an option.
*
Bree put her phone into her bag when they turned into the hospital parking lot. She didn't know how much time she would have before Tracy and the other agents caught up to her, but she hoped to speak to Lindsay before then.
They checked in at the information desk and then headed to the fifth-floor surgical center. There was a police officer stationed outside a small waiting room. Bree was happy to see that someone was watching out for Lindsay.
She showed her badge to the officer, who then allowed her and Nathan to enter the room.
Lindsay was sitting with her father, who looked angry and protective of the fragile woman he had his arm around.
When Lindsay saw them, she jumped to her feet. "Did you find Hayley?"
She hated to dash the hope out of her eyes. "Not yet," she said emphasizing the second word of her reply.
"I don't understand what has happened. The police said that Mark went to pay a ransom at the silos and that someone shot him. He told me he was going to work. He told you that, too," she said to Nathan.
"He did," Nathan agreed. "But he didn't do that. He apparently answered a ransom call."
"Who shot Mark? Where is Hayley? What's going on?" Lindsay asked, her eyes pleading for more information.
"Why don't we sit down, Lindsay?" she suggested. "I have a couple of questions."
"More questions?" her father interrupted. "Isn't it about time someone brought us some answers?"
"We're doing everything we can," Bree said, knowing her words would do nothing to console them. "I can tell you that the person who was meeting Mark is dead. But it looks like he was not acting alone. And Hayley was not with him."
Lindsay bit down on her lip. "Is she more in danger now, because they didn't get the money?"
"I wish I could answer you; I just don't know. I hope not."
"You hope not," Lindsay's father said scornfully. "Like that does us any good."
"It's okay, Dad," Lindsay said. "Let me talk to them. Maybe you could call Mom and check in on the kids. Make sure they're not watching the TV. I don't want them to see any news about their father."
"Are you sure you want to do this alone?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"All right. I'll be back in a few minutes."
As her father left, Lindsay turned back to them, her gaze running down Nathan's shirt. Her face paled. "That's blood on your sleeve. Is that—" Lindsay put a hand to her mouth and then stumbled back into the chair she'd recently vacated. "It's Mark's blood, isn't it? I can't lose my husband, too. I just can't."
Bree took the empty chair next to her, while Nathan pulled over a chair and sat across from them.
"This is a really good hospital, Lindsay, and the doctors are going to do everything they can to save Mark's life," Nathan said.
"Were you there when Mark was shot?" Confusion filled her eyes again. "How were you there, Nathan? You were at my house. But you left before Mark did."
"Yes, but I ran into Bree across the street. While we were talking, we saw Mark come out of the house and grab a backpack out of the side yard. He was acting oddly, so we decided to follow him. I wish we could have prevented what happened. But I know Mark is a fighter."
"Did he say anything?"
"He said he was sorry that he hadn't told you where he was going, what he was doing, but he was desperate, and he hoped you would understand," Nathan replied.
Lindsay's mouth trembled. "That sounds like good-bye."
"He didn't mean it that way. He will do everything he can to survive," Nathan said forcefully. "I know he will."
"I pray that's true."
"I know you're scared," Bree said, drawing Lindsay's attention back to her. "And I hate to ask you more questions, but I need information, and you're the only one who can give it to me."
"Go ahead."
"I want to show you some pictures." She pulled out her phone.
"Pictures of Hayley?"
"I don't know. That's what I need you to tell me." She showed the first picture to Lindsay. "Is this Hayley?"
Lindsay nodded. "Yes. It was her first formal portrait. My parents took her to a photographer in town and had it done as a gift for me for Mother's Day." She licked her lips. "Why do you have it? Why is the word I written on it?"
"It was texted to my phone, Lindsay. There are two more." She flipped to the next one. "Is this Hayley, too?"
"Yes," she said tightly.
"And this one?" she asked, moving to the photo that arrived several minutes ago.
"Oh, God, what's going on?" Lindsay asked, putting a hand to her mouth. "Why is someone sending you pictures of Hayley through her life, and what do the words mean—I—am—your… What's next?"
Looking into Lindsay's eyes, Bree knew she had to tell her. It was not something she wanted to do. And she wasn't sure how to say it—especially in this moment, with Lindsay hanging on by a thread.
She gazed over at Nathan, silently imploring him to tell her what to do, but his eyes held the same uncertainty.
If they were wrong about her being Hayley's mother, then they'd be upsetting Lindsay for nothing. If they were right, then everything would change. Nothing would ever be the same.
Was she ready to take that leap?
"What's next?" Lindsay repeated, more strongly this time, her gaze moving back and forth between them. "What aren't you two telling me?"
"I don’t know what the next word is," she said carefully.
Doubt filled Lindsay's eyes. "I don't believe you. You have some idea where this is going. Just say it. Tell me whatever it is."
She hesitated one last second and then decided that Lindsay had the right to all the information she had. "I think the next word is going to be daughter."
Lindsay stared at her in bemusement. "I—am—your—daughter? But why would he send this to you? I don't understand. Was it meant for me?"
Bree licked her lips, knowing she was about to rip Lindsay's life apart one more time. "It was meant for me, Lindsay."