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“When you go, ask her what she wants. If she doesn’t want to come to me, I’ll leave her with Helena, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Why don’t you just go get her yourself, huh?”
“I can’t.”
“Bullshit.”
Emory stared at him, hard. “You saw the floodlights around the mayor’s house?”
“Yeah?”
“Daylight floods,” he said. “Helena has them installed wherever she and Dimity are staying. They are usually turned on as soon as the sun goes down. They made an exception for the Christmas party. The mayor doesn’t know. She was just told they are part of Helena’s standard security set-up. I would never have been allowed in the house otherwise, and obviously, I couldn’t do anything with so many people around. But under normal circumstances, I can never get anywhere near her.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. So, will you help me?”
Jesse stared at the fire without seeing it.
“Christmas Eve,” Emory said, brushing his hand up Jesse’s arm. “The mayor’s household is going to the Minster for midnight mass. Dimity will be at home with just her minder.”
“The bastards aren’t taking her? I used to love midnight mass.”
A small smile played on his full lips. “They don’t often take Dimity outdoors after dark—in case her evil vampire father tries to steal her back.” His face turned serious. “You can get past that house’s security easily, Jesse. The daylight floods won’t hurt you…or Dimity. You can be in and out in minutes. Then she’ll be home for Christmas…her real home. Please, will you help?”
* * * *
Jesse lay staring into the shadows on his bedroom ceiling. Emory’s touch was still hot on his skin. The taste of his seed was in his mouth and throat. It had been everything Jesse had anticipated and more—and it felt like they’d only just begun.
But Tom’s warnings drifted back. He was a killer. Even if he wasn’t now, at some point he must have been. Jesse wondered if Emory would tell him if he asked—or if he really wanted to know.
He had already asked Jesse to break into a lawyer’s office and had now asked him to kidnap a kid.
“She’s my daughter.”
Jesse made an impatient noise and turned onto his side, staring at his computer stations blinking and flashing in the dark. There was nothing to find online. He’d looked. If even one internet journalist knew that a haemophile had adopted a human child, he was sure there would be no end to the articles. But all he’d found had been dry, political discussions about haemophile rights.
He gnawed on his thumbnail.
“I care about Dimity…a great deal.”
Jesse screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep and escape it all, however briefly.
It must have worked, because the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to dawn sunshine and a bone-deep contentment he didn’t remember feeling for years. Then his thoughts caught up with his feelings, and his belly dipped. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.
He made himself get up and dressed. He stood debating himself for several minutes, then went to the door. The hall was deserted. The night shift would still be monitoring the CCTV, but if anyone asked, he could just say he was checking the systems.
He went downstairs, making an effort to walk naturally, crossed the hall, went through the silent, dark library and into the study. He tapped in the code to deactivate the motion sensors and turned the lights on. He found the locked drawer in Emory’s desk and made quick work of it with his pick tools. It contained a number of files, one of which was labeled by hand.
Dimity.
His mouth dried. He set the file on the desk and stared at it. It was thick, stuffed with papers. Even now he hesitated but made himself open it, but none of the contents made any sense to him. Then, at the back, he found an adoption certificate. He drew it out carefully. It was in German, but Jesse could see it was signed, sealed and countersigned.
He took a deep breath, photographed it with his phone then locked everything away again. It took him the best part of an hour to walk to the nearest bus stop then the bus took almost the same again to get to the city. Jesse spent every minute telling himself he was doing the right thing.
But it still took him a long time of hovering on Anton and Sareena’s doorstep before he pressed the bell. There was a pause then the door opened. Sareena, wearing a tracksuit and a flour-dappled apron, blinked at him, startled.
“Jesse, hi. Uh, Ant’s at work…”
