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Malone wasn’t going to share any of those thoughts with Quinn.

“Right,” he said instead as he pulled her into the house.

FOUR

T
he scream seemed to echo through Quinn’s head as Malone hurried her into the living room. Several people stood there. Special Agent Spellings, two uniformed officers and a man dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt who, Quinn was pretty sure, was from CPS.

He smiled, gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. No one else seemed pleased that she, Malone and August had barged into the meeting.

“I guess you didn’t hear that you have permission to return home,” Agent Spellings said impatiently, her gaze on Malone. “You
all
have permission to go wherever you need to be. We have things secure here.”

“I guess you didn’t hear that this is my home, and the sheriff asked me to stick around until they finish searching the woods. I’m not planning to wait outside to make you people happy,” August responded, a hint of anger in his voice.

“My apologies for taking over the way we have, but this is a missing child’s case—a
kidnapped
child. Things need to be handled a certain way.”

“There’s been a threat made against Quinn’s sister. I think that’s important enough to interrupt your meeting,” Malone said.

“What kind of threat?” Agent Spellings frowned, every hair still in place, her suit still wrinkle-free. Even after the hours she’d spent traveling and conducting interviews, she looked perfect.

She didn’t look convinced, though.

She hadn’t been convinced earlier, either.

She believed Tabitha was guilty of a crime or crimes, and Quinn didn’t believe that a recorded scream was going to change her mind.

“I can play it for you,” Quinn offered.

Agent Spellings nodded, and Quinn played the message—the male voice, the threat, the scream.

She shivered, but Agent Spellings looked unconcerned.

“The scream sounds exactly like a sound effect app one of my nephews likes to use to scare me.”

“Are you saying she staged a kidnapping?” Quinn demanded.

“I’m saying that I’d like to have the message analyzed. Do you mind if I take your phone?” She held out her hand, and Quinn handed it over.

“Tabitha would never fake something like this.”

“And she wouldn’t take a child that didn’t belong to her? Bring that child to her sister? Convince her sister to help her transport the child across state lines?”

Ouch. That hurt, but Quinn wasn’t going to give up. Tabitha needed help. She was certain of it.

“How long will it take you to decide if the scream is real?” she asked.

“I’m certain that it’s a real scream. We’re going to be trying to determine whether it was dubbed in. A recording of a recording, so to speak.” She smiled.

Obviously, she wasn’t taking the threat seriously.

No way was Quinn going to wait around while the message was
analyzed
. She was getting her stuff, getting in her Jeep and heading back to Echo Lake. With or without her brother. There had to be a way to trace her sister’s path from there. Tabitha had arrived in a rental car. A sporty black car that she’d parked right in front of the building that housed Quinn’s apartment. She’d handed Quinn a booster seat, a pink backpack and the envelope before she’d left. It had been too dark for Quinn to read the license plate number, but whatever rental company Tabitha used would want the vehicle back eventually. If Quinn could find the company, she might be able to find her sister.

“You okay?” Malone asked, touching her elbow.

“I will be once I know my sister is okay.”

“You can trust us to do that,” Agent Spellings assured her.

But trust was a difficult thing for Quinn; trusting strangers was nearly impossible. She’d learned to take care of herself years ago. That had served her well when Cory became ill. She’d been able to care for him and for herself. She’d known how to make do, how to solve problems. How to fix things.

Except for Cory’s health.

That she hadn’t been able to fix no matter how hard she’d tried.

“Right. Trust,” she murmured. “I’ll do that. Is there any way I can see Jubilee? I’d like to say goodbye before I leave.”

“We agreed that we’re leaving together,” August reminded her.

She ignored him.

Waiting wasn’t going to help Tabitha.

“I’m sorry,” the guy she’d pegged for CPS said. “She’s been through a lot, and we think it would be better if—”

“It would probably be better for that poor girl to have a chance to say goodbye,” Agent Spellings cut in, offering support that Quinn hadn’t expected. “She’s had too many adults disappear from her life. I think we can all agree that’s not healthy for a child.”

“Well—” the guy frowned “—it isn’t, but nothing that has happened to her is healthy.”

“I’m not going to traumatize her more,” Quinn assured him. “I just want to say goodbye.”

“I guess it won’t hurt. Come on.” He led her down the hall and into one of August’s guest rooms. It was small, just enough space in it to house a dresser, a twin bed and a night stand.

Two women stood near a window. One held a clipboard. The other had a phone. Both looked tired and a little frazzled.

“John,” the taller of the two said. “Didn’t we agree that Jubilee shouldn’t be disturbed?”

“This is her aunt,” he explained.

“Not legally,” the woman responded. “I’m sorry, Ms....?”

“Robertson.”

“Ms. Robertson, I’m Anna Smith, Jubilee’s caseworker. She is terrified. She’s decided that the closet is the safest place, and we want her to feel safe, don’t we?” She sounded as if she were speaking to a child. It rubbed Quinn the wrong way, but she’d play nice if it meant seeing Jubilee.

“Of course. I plan to return to Maine, though, and I thought—”

A soft thump interrupted her words.

Seconds later, the closet door creaked open, and Jubilee peeked out, her eyes red, her cheeks wet.

She’d been crying.

Poor kid.

“Hey, kiddo.” Quinn crouched and held out her arms. “Got a hug for me?”

“She doesn’t like to be touched,” Anna informed her, but Jubilee had already moved forward and was throwing herself into Quinn’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Quinn murmured, smoothing silky curls from hot sticky cheeks. “You’re going to be okay.”

Tears rolled down Jubilee’s cheeks, silent sobs wracking her body.

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Are you scared or sad?”

“She doesn’t speak.” Anna had moved in, hovering nearby as if she were afraid Quinn was going to grab the child and run.

“Can you find Mommy?” Jubilee asked, the words clear and crisp. They were the first words she’d spoken, and Quinn couldn’t quite grasp that they’d actually come out of her mouth.

“What?” she asked, and Jubilee pressed her palms to Quinn’s face, looked straight into her eyes.

“I need you to find Mommy.”

“I will,” she said, shocked at how mature Jubilee sounded, how articulate she was. She’d assumed there was a learning disability or some emotional reason the little girl didn’t speak. Apparently, she simply hadn’t wanted to.

“Promise?”

“Of course.” The words slipped out before she could think them through, the promise made so quickly, she almost didn’t realize she’d made it. “I’m going back to the place we last saw her. When I find her, I’ll make sure she knows how much you want to see her.”

“It will be up to Jubilee’s birth father to decide if seeing each other is a good idea,” Anna cautioned, and tears began running down Jubilee’s face again.

Quinn wiped them away, her hands shaking with fatigue, worry, frustration. “Honey, don’t cry. Your dad is going to want what’s best for you, and seeing your mother—”

“Not legally her mother,” Anna reiterated.

“I don’t think that matters to her.”

Anna ignored the comment, crouching down and touching the little girl’s arm. “We’ve talked about this.”

Jubilee jerked away, pressing closer to Quinn.

Anna sighed. “You know that we’re looking for your real father. I explained this. He has been waiting a very long time to see you again, and he—”

Jubilee walked back into the closet and shut the door.

“She’s very upset,” Anna explained as if it weren’t obvious. “This is too much for a five-year-old to handle.”

“It would be too much for most people to handle.” Quinn answered by rote, her mind on the promise she’d made.

The one she couldn’t break.

Wouldn’t
break.

She’d said she’d find Tabitha. It’s what she wanted anyway. Now she not only had to find her sister, she had to make sure that Jubilee’s birth father was willing to let the two be reunited.

One bridge at a time.

That’s all she had to cross.

First, she’d find Tabitha and make certain she was safe. Then, she’d figure out how to reunite the two.

“I’d better go,” she said. “Maine is a long drive. I’ll leave you with my contact information—”

“We have it,” Anna said with a forced smile.

“Do you have a card, so I can reach you?”

The woman dug into her purse, took out a card and handed it to her. “That’s my direct number. I know my methods may seem abrupt, but I’ve worked with traumatized kids for years. Most of the time, it’s best to get them back into structure and security quickly.”

“I understand. Thanks for letting me see her. I’ll be in touch.”

She walked out of the room, her heart beating hollowly in her chest.

What had Tabitha gotten herself into?

And how in the world was Quinn going to get her out of it?

Nothing is impossible with God
.

How many times had her mother said that?

During the difficult times, the struggles, the financial crises, her faith had never wavered. Until the end, she’d never stopped believing that God was going to come through.

Quinn didn’t think she had her mother’s faith.

Hers was tired, fragile, weak. It felt used up and old and tethered to her by years of spouting prayers and Christian platitudes. Did she really believe that nothing was impossible when God was in it?

She wanted to.

She really did, because she was going to Maine. Now. With or without her brother’s approval.

* * *

Quinn was going to leave, and she wasn’t going to wait a few hours to do it. Malone had seen the look on her face, the fear in her eyes, and then the frustration when Agent Spellings hadn’t seemed to take the phone call and threat seriously. She
was
taking it seriously. The FBI didn’t mess around. They’d play it safe, make sure that they were on the right track, and then they’d act.

Malone could have told Quinn that, but she wouldn’t have believed him. It was
her
sister who was missing. If he were standing in Quinn’s shoes, he’d leave, too.

The question was, would she leave through the front door or try to sneak out without her brother noticing?

He glanced at August. The guy was deep in a discussion with law enforcement. Apparently, Tabitha had rented a car in Maine and returned it four hours after she’d left Jubilee with Quinn. Law enforcement was trying to figure out where she’d gone during those four hours, who’d she’d seen, who she might have contacted. Where she’d gone after.

Did she get a ride with someone?

Take the bus?

Stay near Echo Lake?

All good questions, and they needed answers, but there was no way Quinn was going to wait around while they figured it out. There was no way Malone was letting her drive up to Maine by herself. He’d come because of Jubilee, but he never quit until a mission was complete. In his mind, this wouldn’t be complete until he knew everyone involved was safe.

He didn’t like the feel of things.

He didn’t like the phone call, the scream, the fact that Tabitha’s phone might be in someone else’s hands. He especially didn’t like the idea that Quinn might be walking into a trap, that she might be used as a pawn to get to Jubilee or Tabitha.

Whichever one the perpetrator was really going after.

That was the question Malone was most interested in answering. Who was the real target?

He texted Chance the information he had—birth certificate, kid with red hair and blue eyes. Tabitha’s husband’s name. His city of residence. Chance was always quick with solutions. He’d start digging into Jarrod Williams’s life, find out if there was any reason to doubt the story he’d told the police.

People lied. All the time.

It would be interesting to see if Jarrod had.

Malone shoved the phone into his pocket and walked out of the room. No one seemed to notice. Just like no one would probably notice if Quinn slipped out under the radar.

In her position, it’s probably what he’d do.

He walked down a wide hall, glanced into an open doorway—a white bathroom with tiled floor and walls. There were three other rooms, all of them with their doors closed.

He knocked on the first one, and a wide-eyed brunette opened it just enough for him to get a glimpse of the tiny room beyond.

“I’m sorry. No one can see Jubilee,” she said sharply.

“I’m looking for Quinn.”

“She left a couple of minutes ago.”

“Left?”

“The room,” she said with a tired sigh. “I don’t know where she went after that.”

She closed the door before he could respond.

He thought about knocking again, trying to get a glimpse of Jubilee, but Quinn had gone somewhere. Not into the kitchen. She’d have had to walk through the living room to do that.

He knocked on the second door, waited a moment and opened it. Dark furniture—bed, desk, curtains. It looked like August’s room. He went to the third. Knocked.

“Quinn?” he called.

She didn’t respond, so he tried the knob. It turned easily, a draft of cold air sweeping out as he opened the door.

Curtains billowed at a wide window, the air tinged with the hint of fall. He could smell pine needles, wood burning stove, something flowery and light that might have been the remnants of perfume.

He scanned the room. An open door led into a tiny closet. No place Quinn could have gone except out through the window.