“You don’t understand.”
“No, Monsieur. You do not understand. If you need to see a doctor, we have one on board.”
Jeff slumped down in his seat.He didn’t need a doctor.
He stared at Tracy’s text for a full minute before getting up stiffly and walking into the empty train corridor to make his next call.
FRANK DORRIEN WAS DEEP asleep when his phone rang.
“I lost her.”
Jeff Stevens’s voice woke Frank instantly, like a glass of ice water in the face.
The general sat up in bed. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Never mind that,” Jeff said. “Tracy’s in danger. Real danger. I need your help, Frank.”
CAMERON CREWE STOOD IN front of his son’s grave.
It was a sweltering New York day, dank and humid and without the faintest whisper of a breeze. Sweat poured down Cameron’s back, but he barely noticed.
The cemetery of St. Luke’s Church in Queens was an unassuming square plot of land, much of it overgrown and weed-ridden, a tangle of rusty crosses and faded headstones. Many belonged to children. Forgotten children, it seemed. And yet there was something peaceful about the place, something beautiful and secretive. Cameron came here often, tending to Marcus’s stone, a clean but simple marble slab.
So did Charlotte, Marcus’s mother, although she hadn’t been recently. In fact, according to the police, Charlotte’s mother, Cameron’s ex-mother-in-law, had officially reported her daughter missing last week. Cameron had promised to let the detectives know if he heard anything from Charlotte.
He hadn’t.
He hadn’t heard from Tracy either, not in more than two weeks. Everyone seemed to be disappearing, drifting out of Cameron’s life as suddenly as they had once drifted into it.
Everything passes.
Nothing is forever. Least of all love.
Cameron’s phone rang. He scowled at the intrusion. He must have forgotten to turn it off.
“Yes?” he snapped.
“We have a lead.”
It was a man’s voice. A voice Cameron hadn’t heard in a long time. Too long.
“Where?”
“Italy. The Lakes.”
“How soon can you be there?”
“Tomorrow. I need funds.”
Cameron gave a cynical snort. Don’t you always?
“I’ll wire you another hundred thousand.”
He hung up, trying to recapture the peace he’d felt a few moments ago, trying to feel Marcus’s presence. But it was gone.
Mopping the sweat from his brow, Cameron turned and walked wearily back to his car.
TRACY SMILED AS THE Airbus 300 soared up into the blue.