Page 123

He turned and pointed at the hotel's semi-open dessert bar sixty feet away, longing clear in his eyes. "I want that strawberry Napoleon. Mamma says if I'm good, I can have strawberries."

Logic kept screaming to push him away, call security, have them take this kid to the police. But my body moved on its own. Like something possessed, I crouched down in front of everyone, meeting him at eye level.

"Okay," I said, my voice gentler than I expected. "I'll get you that strawberry Napoleon."

"Yay!" Leon broke into a grin.

I didn't reach for his hand—I still wasn't sure what was happening. Keeping distance made sense.

But the kid had no such reservations. He reached out and grabbed my index finger, wrapping his short fingers around it tightly.

That warm touch through my skin sent something trembling through my chest.

I led him into the dessert shop, chose a spot in back—against the wall, clear sight lines, could see all exits.

After helping him climb onto the sofa, I sat across from him. As I sat, I signaled my security detail to maintain covert surveillance.

Once they dispersed, I turned back to Leon studying the menu with serious concentration. "What do you want?"

"Strawberry Napoleon!" he said excitedly. "And milk!"

I called the server over, ordered what he wanted, and got myself black coffee.

After the server left, I kept watching this child.

Deep brown curls. Round cheeks. Straight little nose.

His features... really did look like mine when I was young.

But this could just be coincidence. Lots of people looked alike.

"Leon," I said his name. "Do you have your mom's phone number on you?"

"Yeah!" He fished a cartoon otter charm from his jacket pocket and flipped it over. "Mamma said if I get lost, show this to a grownup!"

The back of the charm had a phone number written in black marker.

The handwriting was delicate, elegant, with distinctive connected strokes.

That was Ruby's handwriting.

I'd recognize her writing if it turned to ash.

My heart felt like an invisible hand was crushing it. No, this couldn't be just coincidence—the deep brown curls, the gray-green eyes, three years old, Venice...

All the pieces slammed together in my head, but I couldn't be sure, couldn't believe this impossible possibility.

I pulled out my phone. My fingertip trembled slightly as I entered those numbers.

The green call button lit up on screen. A dull, monotonous ring filled the receiver.

Only two rings before someone snatched up the phone.

"Hello, Martha? Did you find Leon? I'm coming down right now—"

Ruby's frantic, panicked voice, verging on hysterical tears, crashed straight into my ear without warning.

In that second, the entire noisy hotel lobby seemed to drop into a silent vacuum.