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As if to confirm Ashley’s words, the phone fell silent.
Ashley walked over and knelt down beside Hope. “I blame myself, too, you know,” she admitted softly. “If I’d been doing yesterday’s car pool, maybe I would have gotten there sooner. I definitely would have noticed Krissy’s absence right away. Maybe I would have been in time to prevent all this.”
“You couldn’t have. Maybe none of us could. It doesn’t matter. I’m dying inside, anyway.”
“I know you are.” Tears clogged Ashley’s throat. She reached down and gripped Hope’s hand.
“I don’t think I can survive this, Ashley,” Hope managed. “Krissy is my world. Without her…nothing else matters.”
“I know that, too. But I have to believe—”
Before Ashley could continue, her cell phone burst into song again.
“Damn.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get rid of whoever that is.”
“That’s okay. You can talk.”
“I don’t want to. I want to stay in here with you. I’m turning off my phone.”
She rose and sprinted down the hall.
A full minute passed. Then another.
Hope just lay where she was, riddled with pain, guilt and fear. It was as if all the life were draining out of her.
Through her onslaught of emotion, she heard Ashley return.
“Judge Willis?” Ashley whispered from the doorway.
Something about the odd note in her voice brought Hope bolting to her feet. “Is there news?”
Ashley’s face was colorless. She was gripping her cell phone so tightly that her knuckles were white. Furtively, she glanced behind her, then stepped into the room and shut the door.
“On my phone,” she managed, extending her hand and offering Hope her cell. “It’s a weird voice. But he told me he’s the kidnapper. He said he got my number from Krissy’s book bag, and that he called it so the authorities couldn’t trace him, and so that you wouldn’t involve them. But he wants to talk to you. He has…demands.”
Hope snatched the phone and put it to her ear. “This is Judge Willis.”
“I have your daughter,” an odd, tinny voice told her. Clearly, the kidnapper was using a voice scrambler. “If you want her back, follow my instructions exactly, and keep your mouth shut. Tell no one that I called. Not your husband. Not the locals. And not the FBI. If you do, your daughter dies.”
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Hope replied instantly. “Please, please don’t hurt Krissy.”
“That’s up to you.”
“Is she all right? Can I talk to her?”
“She’s fine. And, no, you can’t talk to her. She’s elsewhere.”
“Then how do I know she’s okay? How do I even know you have her?”
“Listen.” There was a brief pause, a rustle, then the punch of a button.
“I’m not hungry.” It was Krissy’s voice, obviously recorded, obviously tear filled. “Oreo’s not either. I want my mommy. I want—”
Another punch of the button and Krissy’s voice vanished.
Hope squeezed her eyes shut. “Why does she sound so frightened? What are you doing to her?”
“Wear your brown trench coat,” the voice instructed. “I don’t want you noticed. Bring two hundred and fifty thousand dollars—cash. In Krissy’s black Adidas duffel bag. Tomorrow. Five o’clock. At the Mid-County Mall. Second-floor food court. Next to the pretzel kiosk. There’s a trash can. Drop the bag beside it. Then walk away. Don’t pause. Don’t look back. Just go.”
