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1:00 P.M.
All Michael wanted to do was wrap Samara up in his arms, feel her warm breath against his neck, breathe in the scent of her lavender shampoo, and center himself.
The last twenty-four hours had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions. From making love to Samara for the first time, to playing with Noelle and Asher and thinking how wonderful it would be to have a child around again, to rushing over here in a panic when they got the stalker’s message and arriving to find Hannah unconscious and Asher gone. If it wasn't for Samara, he would be craving a drink right about now.
He’d been busy talking with the cops and his boss as they tried to figure out what their next move would be. Tom had taken Noelle, and they’d gone in the ambulance with Hannah to the hospital, and Chloe was basically paralyzed with fear about her son, so he had been catching the local cops up as best he could on the case and what they knew so far.
Which wasn't a lot.
The best they could hope for was that the stalker would make contact with Samara again and give her directions on where to meet up with him. Then they could follow her and arrest the stalker and hopefully this would all be over by the end of the day, then they could all relax and enjoy Christmas.
Michael froze as he stepped into the living room.
Samara wasn't there.
Although he fought against the knowledge, he knew instinctively where she was.
The stalker had already contacted her, and she’d slipped away to meet him.
His eyes hadn't caught on yet and still scanned the room as though Samara had simply turned invisible, and if he kept looking, sooner or later, she would show up. His gaze landed on Samara’s brother. When he’d gone to talk with the cops, he’d told Fin to keep an eye on Samara, worried that she was about ready to cave under the pressure.
“Where’s Samara?” he asked, storming over to Fin.
“Over there somewhere.” Fin didn't even turn around, just tossed a hand up in the air pointing behind him.
“No, she’s not. I asked you to keep an eye on her.” He knew that Samara was holding on by a thread. The only reason he hadn't remained glued to her side was because he’d told her brother to watch her and not let her out of his sight.
“I’m trying to calm my wife down, she’s a mess.” Fin threw a glare over his shoulder.
“So is your sister. I asked you to watch her, and now she’s gone.”
“What’s the big deal? She’s probably outside getting some fresh air.”
“She better be,” Michael muttered.
He turned and ran outside. The street was abuzz with activity, the FBI’s ERT unit was scouring the house, as was the local crime scene unit, cops were canvassing the neighbors, there were people everywhere, but no Samara.
She was gone.
They’d driven here in his car, and it was still parked where he’d left it, so wherever the stalker had told Samara to meet him it had to be close by because she would have gone on foot.
“Hey,” he called to the nearest cop. “Did you see SamaraPatrick leave this house?”
“A woman with dark hair went walking up the street that way.” The young woman pointed. “I didn't see her face, but it could have been Ms. Patrick.”
“How long ago?”
“Fifteen minutes maybe.”
That was plenty of time to get wherever she was going, she could already be with the stalker.
“Start searching the streets within a ten-block perimeter,” he ordered.
If they were lucky, Samara and the stalker were still nearby.
If they were unlucky, they were already on the way to wherever the stalker intended to keep Samara.
“She’s not out there,” he screamed as he ran back into the living room. “She’s gone. This is your fault.” He pointed at Fin.
