"Now you're not a stranger anymore 'cause I know your name," she giggled. "That's what Goat Scout Leader Cora says!" Tugging on Britt’s hand, the child pulled her toward a chair at the table. “I like your name,” she said, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s the same name as my mommy.”
Chapter 26
Britt shouldn’t have indulged Paloma or trespassed in the child’s home, but the yearning to be close to her was too strong to ignore. Sure, she told herself that leaving a five-year-old child unattended without adult supervision would be irresponsible. It would be prudent to wait until her father got home and then explain her presence in their house. But the truth was a maternal instinct had overwhelmed her, fierce and primal, like a lioness recognizing her cub. She didn’t want to be separated from the little girl.
When Paloma told her she had the same name as her mommy, Britt knew the little girl’s mother—Brittany Freeman. It was the only answer that made sense. The reason why the child thought she had been her Mommy angel from heaven when she’d helped her in the park.
What didn’t make sense was that there had been nothing in the audio recordings about Brittany Freeman having a child. But Britt remembered being pregnant. The sensation was undeniable. Her little dove.
And Paloma’s name meant dove.
As she followed Paloma into the massive home, they’d detoured to the child’s bedroom to get the Barbie dolls. Britt’sgaze had caught a stuffed animal perched on an empty bookshelf—a weather-worn teddy bear with a red bow tie, somehow familiar in a way that made her chest ache. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch it, to confirm if it felt as soft as she imagined.
"That's my special bear," Paloma said, following Britt's gaze. "Daddy says Mommy gave him to me when I was super tiny. I sleep with him every night.”
Britt's throat tightened. "Mr. Bow," she whispered, the name falling from her lips.
Paloma's eyes widened. "That's right! How did you know?"
Britt forced a smile, trying to steady her racing heart. "Lucky guess. He has such a fancy bow tie."
Those thoughts compelled her to stick around, playing dolls with Paloma for hours. She was a beautiful child with a great personality, boundless energy, and sweet optimism touched by more than a hint of competitiveness that sparked something deep in Britt's memory—like looking in a mirror through time.
She couldn’t ignore the patterns emerging, the evidence piling up that maybe she’d been wrong all this time. Perhaps the life that was hers was the one they’d tried to force on her all along.
Could she be Brittany Freeman?
Was this little girl her daughter?
Paloma giggled as she placed two Barbie dolls into a toy army truck that the child called the island jitney and pushed it toward Britt. They’d spent the last few hours taking her dozens of dolls on a pretend hike through the Cabrito mountains, which they’d constructed in the living room using the pillows from the couch.
"No." Britt wagged a finger at Paloma, the gesture feeling eerily natural. "The car is going the wrong way. They need to go to their condo after a long day of hiking." They'd made a mess of the living room. Britt had convinced Paloma that all her Barbieshad to be put back on a bookshelf in her bedroom, which they pretended was a luxurious condominium where the dolls lived. It had been the perfect way to convince Paloma to clean up the toys after they finished playing.
Paloma disappeared down the hallway as Britt returned the last pillows to the couch. She grabbed a few dolls caught in quicksand between the couch cushions and lined them along the wall for the next jitney to return to the condo.
“That was so much fun,” Paloma said, pushing the toy truck back into the living room, empty of dolls. “Can you come over tomorrow so we can play again?”
“I think we need to talk to your daddy first,” Britt said, sitting on the floor in front of Paloma. “What’s your daddy’s name?” She tried again to get her to open up with more details on her father and how they could contact him.
Paloma's eyes darted away, a hint of cunning beneath her innocent expression. "Daddy's name is Daddy, of course.”
“And you don’t know your daddy’s phone number?” Britt asked, recognizing the deliberate evasion.
Paloma shook her head, a slyness in her gaze that confirmed her determination to keep Britt there as long as possible.
“Do you know what time he’ll be home from work?” Britt tried another angle.
“Soon,” Paloma said, then turned her attention to the dolls, carefully placing them inside the toy truck. Her small hands moved with exaggerated slowness, stretching out each moment.
“Soon …”
She couldn’t imagine what Paloma’s father would think when he got home. He might think he was staring at a ghost. The thought sent flutters through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the idea from her mind, but it was getting harder and harder. She wanted to be exactly who this little girl thoughtshe’d been. Her mommy. But not as an angel from heaven. A mommy who could be with her every day.
No, she had to get a grip.
The Visitor was looking for her. He wanted to kill her.
She wouldn’t do anything to put this child in danger. She couldn’t live with herself if she brought danger into Paloma’s life.
