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If I’d never decided to go through with that stupid wedding in the first place.
It was my fault that Macy was gone. Macy, my daughter. Macy, the girl whose identity Lola Ryder had kept from me for years.
Somewhere, in the buzzing stillness of the room, with Lola crying and seeing Sara and her uncle staring grimly at me, I remembered a voicemail I’d gotten a long time ago.
“Alex? It’s Lola. We met in Denpasar. I need your help. I don’t want anything from you, but please, get in touch with me.”
She’d needed me. And I’d let her down.
Who was I to stand here, like I could help anyone?
My own daughter was somewhere, distressed, helpless and small. And I couldn’t even take care of her mother.
I turned and left the apartment. I ran down the stairs, and as I did, I turned around and thought I saw something for a moment. A small boy, with dark hair and blue eyes, sayingdon’t go.
But I turned my back and left the building, walking into the rain.
Chapter 25
Lola
Ididn’tknowwhatto do.
I simply didn’t know what to do.
That night I stayed up in my apartment, in shock. I didn’t even know how to react to Sara. She was my closest friend, but I knew that some part of me blamed her for allowing Macy to be taken away. But however true that might be, I knew that it wasn’t Sara’s fault, wasn’t Sebastien’s, either. He stood guard all night while we sat on the sofa together, and I frantically wondered what to do.
“I’m gonna help you, sweetheart,” said Sara, and I believed her. But as the hours dragged on, I realized I was exhausted, stressed and tired.
“Macy,” I said, as if to no one. “Where are you?”
I burst into tears, and that night I cried myself to sleep in Sara’s arms.
In the morning, I woke up. I checked the clock: it was just after seven. I cursed myself for sleeping while my own daughter was out there somewhere, in the hands of that creep. I wanted to hope that Luca wouldn’t harm her, that he’d be true to his word and keep her safe for the next twenty-four hours.
But I didn’t really know. And time was running out. By the time the evening rolled around, neither of us would have any choice. And Macy would be out of time.
“You’re awake,” said Sara, and she passed me a cup of coffee. I gratefully accepted it and drank. I’d averaged about three or four hours a night for the past couple of days, and I was feeling rough to say the least.
“What are we going to do?” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Sara. “But I do know someone who can help.”
“I’m not calling Alex,” I said.
“Nor am I!” she said. “I’m calling someone who can help us. I’m calling someone who knows more about this Luca Desilva bastard than anyone else in the whole world.”
“Yeah?” I said.
“And he’s coming over in about an hour,” said Sara, smiling.
But both of us knew things looked awful, all the same.
***
An hour later, Zeke appeared armed with a laptop at Sara’s front door.
“How are y’all doing?” he said, and gripped me in his arms for the biggest hug I’d ever had. It almost reduced me to tears again, but I took a deep breath.
