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Anger simmered beneath the surface as I looked at Blaise who was looking at Ames with a look of disgust on her face.
I turned to give my stare back to Ames.
“He needs to be here,” I said. “No matter if he aches or not.”
Ames didn’t look away from me.
“Help me find her, please,” she whispered, a desperate plea in her voice that sent shivers down my spine.
“I’ll help,” I promised. “Any way that I can.”
Ames swallowed and looked away, right into the eyes of Blaise.
“Do you remember the woman from the diner that went into the bathroom at the same time as your daughter?” Blaise asked quietly. “Was she flustered or anything as she came out?”
That question seemed to stump Ames momentarily.
“No.” She shook her head. “She was on her phone. Playing Angry Birds, actually. Why?”
“You were watching that closely?” the incident commander in charge asked. “Why?”
“Because my husband watched her walk into the bathroom, and I wanted to look at her more closely.” Ames swallowed and looked away.
“Your husband needs to get here now,” the incident commander demanded. “This is highly unusual that he would think it’s best for him to go home.”
Ames shrugged. “I stopped trying to control my husband a long time ago. It’s easier.”
“I’ll send a cruiser,” the commander started.
Ames held up a hand. “I’ll call him. Get him here.”
My eyes made contact with Blaise again, who was farther away from us with her bucket huddled close.
My stomach sank for her.
When she was finished, she looked up and caught me staring at her.
She held up a shaky thumbs up, and I nodded once in understanding.
She would make it through.
“The first twenty-four hours are critical,” the incident commander continued. “We need to discuss our next step.”
So that was what we did for the next twenty minutes.
And for some reason, during the discussion, I forgot all about Blaise.
That was a mistake.
CHAPTER 20
Welcome to adulthood. You get pissed when they rearrange the grocery store.
-Blaise to Sin
BLAISE
We were in the diner’s parking lot with about two hundred volunteers to help in the search, and about seventy-five law enforcement personnel.
Everyone was listening to the incident commander speak.
Everyone but me, that was.
I was on the outskirts of the parking lot.
Still dry heaving.
“Baby, give me a break,” I whispered as I patted my belly. “Please.”
The nausea didn’t lessen, but it did stop long enough for me to draw a much-needed breath.
Puking was the absolute worst.
Puking nothing up was a close second.
I groaned and parked my ass on the massive concrete barrier that surrounded the rather large light pole that’d been erected to light the area.
The generator that was fueling it was a few feet away, making it nearly impossible to hear anything that was being said across the parking lot.
But I’d had to back even farther away when people were watching me instead of listening to what was being said by the incident commander, Tatum.
Officer Briggs had introduced himself to the lot of us and then deftly started back on his work.
Even in my nauseated state, I couldn’t help but be wowed by his appearance.
He was tall, built, and captivating.
His eyes, even though I hadn’t been all that close to get the full effect, held you practically enraptured when he spoke directly to you.
He had a black ball cap on that was covering his black close-cropped hair, and he was tanned to the point that I had a feeling he spent a lot of time in the sun. That, or he was naturally that tan and he didn’t have to work to maintain it at all.
But it wasn’t necessarily his looks at all that made me realize he was really good at what he did. It was his confidence that she—Ames’ little girl—would be brought home safely.
Another wave of nausea rolled through me and I moaned, catching the attention of an elderly woman that was hanging back like me.
Though, she had seemed to do it the entire time.
I wasn’t sure if me puking just didn’t bother her or what, but through the course of twenty minutes, she’d slowly gotten closer and closer to me even after I’d moved to get farther away.
I looked up to see her eyes on me, and she smiled.
“You’re the woman that helped save that other little girl, aren’t you?” she asked.
I turned, stomach still roiling, and nodded, smiling slightly. “I am.”
“You know, you cost me a half mil.” She turned fully then, her walker forgotten, and stared deeply into my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I patted my belly, hoping the movement would calm it down. Sadly, it didn’t. “I don’t understand your comment.”
The elderly woman’s eyes were ice cold as she repeated, “You cost me a half a mil. A half a million dollars. You stole that girl from me, and I had to pay back her buyer.”
Shock wormed its way through me.
