Quint grabbed her, holding her inside the room.
“Hampton!” Amara futilely twisted to escape Quint’s grip. “I’ve got to find Hampton. Let go!”
Quint’s voice was commanding in a way that wasn’t to be brooked. “Whoever did this,” he waved at Raneesha, “could still be here. Help her. I’ll look for Hampton. Where would he be?”
“Let go!”
“Dammit, Amara, listen. I’m not letting you out until I clear all these rooms. Where would Hampton be?”
Amara deflated slightly. “Two doors down.”
Quint released her, stepped back and shut the door in her face. Amara contemplated running after him. Then she heard the muffled sounds of her mother behind her.
She turned and rushed to Raneesha, reaching behind her mother’s head to untie the gag. Raneesha gasped and drew in great gulps of air while Amara went to work unraveling the knots in the makeshift rope made from cloth that secured her wrists and ankles to the chair.
The moment Raneesha was free to move, she stood and wrapped her arms tightly around Amara. Through her choked, gasping sobs, she apologized over and over, nearly incoherent in what seemed more like grief and guilt than from being tied and gagged.
Amara held her tightly until she calmed down, and then she pulled away to place a hand on each of her shoulders. “Momma, what happened? Are you hurt?”
Raneesha took a deep breath, trying desperately to steady herself enough to speak. “I’ll be okay, but —”
She broke down again, heavy sobs racking her body as she collapsed onto the edge of her bed.
The bedroom door opened, and Quint entered. One look at his pale face told the tale of what he’d learned.
He shook his head. “Hampton’s not here,” Quint said. “I found no one.”
Amara’s breathing quickened as the adrenaline roared through her system when the implications drove themselves home. “Momma … where’s my baby?”
Raneesha grabbed gulps of air while Quint propped her up and tried to rub the circulation back into her hands. “Oh baby girl. I’m so sorry. I never thought he’d do something like this. I-I-I can’t —”
Quint stepped between them and in his deep, calm voice, gently asked her what happened.
Amara wanted to be gentle like Quint, but she was beyond wild with fear, so when she spoke her voice was shrill and panicked. “Momma! Hampton’s not in his room. Where is he? Downstairs?”
In an instant, she was halfway to the door.
“He’s gone!” Raneesha wailed, stopping Amara in her tracks.
Raneesha clenched her hands together in front of her chest. “It was Frederik. He came and took little Hampton. Frederik. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t —”
A scream broke free from Amara, and she quickly clasped her hand over her mouth as the edges of her vision went dark. Quint rushed over, holding her up when her legs gave out from under her. He guided her into the chair where her mother had been tied.
Amara’s tears fell as freely as her mother’s now. None of it made any sense. Hampton gone? Taken by Frederik?
She managed to eke out a single word through her attempts to get air into her constricted lungs. “Where?”
“I don’t know where. I’m so sorry, baby,” Raneesha said, hiccupping several times. “I shouldn’t have opened the door to him. He seemed okay. He wanted to talk about you and him. I thought, maybe there was a chance — as soon as he was inside he attacked me. I couldn’t stop him.”
Amara was devastated, unable to make sense of it. Impossible. “My God,” was all Amara could say.
“It’s all my fault. I know how you felt about him,” Raneesha said. “I just thought — I didn’t realize he was dangerous. Hampton’s my grandson, and I’d never, ever want to h-hurt —” She broke down into sobs again.
Quint patted Raneesha’s back, telling her it was okay. No one blamed her. They just needed her to tell them everything.
Part of Amara wanted to tell him that he was wrong. Amara most definitely blamed her. And it wasn’t okay. And another part of her knew blaming Raneesha wasn’t fair. But Hampton was gone.
Gone. With Frederik.