Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 2:30 p.m.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Fallon,” Nancy Barker said. The county social worker sounded almost as devastated as Alex felt. “I don’t know what else to tell you at this point.”

“Are you sure?” Alex insisted. She wiped her face with the back of her bandaged hand. She hated the weakness of tears. They never helped. But she’d gone for days expecting to hear Bailey was dead. She hadn’t expected… this. Not this. And on top of the events of the day… Alex supposed everyone had a limit and she’d reached hers.

“I know this is hard, but Bailey was an addict. Heroin addicts have a much higher recidivism rate. You’re a nurse. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”

“I know. I also know everyone in Bailey’s recent life has sworn she’d gone clean.”

“Maybe she was under stress and just couldn’t take it anymore. Addicts go back to the life for all kinds of reasons. All I know is that she called the office and left a message for, quote, ‘whoever has my baby, Hope Crighton.’ The social worker who took the call knew Hope was one of my cases and forwarded the message to me.”

“So nobody physically talked to Bailey.” The initial shock was wearing off and Alex’s mind was working again. “When did she leave the message?”

“Today, about an hour ago.”

An hour ago. Alex looked at her bandaged hands. No coincidences, Daniel had said. “Can you forward that message to my phone?”

“I don’t know. We have an internal phone system. Why?”

Alex heard the mild disapproval in the social worker’s voice. “Miss Barker, I’m not trying to be difficult or in denial, but two women from Bailey’s hometown are dead. You can’t blame me for being suspicious of a phone call allegedly from Bailey that says she’s really run off and left Hope to the system.”

“Two women?” Barker said. “I read about the first woman, the congressman’s daughter being from Dutton, but now there’s another?”

Alex bit her lip. “That’s not public knowledge yet.” Although Daniel was off at his press conference by now, so it would be soon. “You can understand my apprehension.”

“I suppose so,” Barker said thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t know how to forward a message outside our phone system, but I can have it recorded it for you.”

“That would be wonderful. Can I pick up the tape today?”

“It might be tomorrow. Bureaucracy, you know.”

She sounded doubtful, so Alex pushed harder. “Miss Barker, right before that call came into your office, someone tried to run me down in the street. If someone hadn’t pushed me out of the way, I could be dead right now.”

“Oh my God.”

“Now you understand.”

“Oh my God,” Barker repeated, stunned. “Hope could be in danger.”

The thought of anyone touching Hope left Alex cold. Still she kept her voice confident. “I’m requesting police protection. If I have to, I’ll move Hope out of town.”

“Who’s with Hope right now?”

“My cousin.” Meredith had been exceedingly upset by the news of the near miss that afternoon. Alex had been on the phone with Meredith when the call from Barker had beeped through. “She’s a child psychologist from Cincinnati. Hope’s in good hands.”

“Fine, then. I’ll call you once I’ve recorded this message.”

Alex called Meredith back, bracing herself for a tirade. She was not disappointed.

“You’re coming home with me,” Meredith stated, bypassing any greeting.

“No, I’m not. Mer, that call was from the social worker. Somebody claiming to be Bailey called saying she’d just come off a high and wanted to be sure someone had Hope, that they should keep her, that she was never coming back.”

“Maybe it was Bailey, Alex.”

“The call was placed an hour ago, right about when that car tried to mow me down. Somebody wants me to stop looking for Bailey.”

Meredith was quiet for a few beats, then she sighed. “Did you tell Vartanian?”

“Not yet. He’s at a press conference. I’m going to request protection, but I don’t know if they’ll give it to me. Maybe you should take Hope to Ohio with you.”

“No, not yet. We may have something. I was afraid to turn the TV on today because they keep talking about the murders. So I plugged the organ in and played ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’ One-fingered, nothing fancy. Just to keep myself sane.”

“And then?”

“And then Hope got this strange look on her face. It was creepy, Alex.”

“Where is Hope now?”

“Playing the damn organ like she has been for the last two hours. I’m on the front porch. I had to have a break or I was going to scream. She picked out this tune. Six notes. She keeps playing it again and again. I’m half expecting her to start building mountains out of mashed potatoes any minute.”

“What’s the tune?” Alex listened with a frown as Meredith hummed it. “I’ve never heard it before. Have you?”

“No, but if the organ is anything like the coloring, we’ll be hearing it for a long time.”

Alex thought for a minute. “Do me a favor. Call her preschool and ask if they’ve heard it. Maybe it’s a song they sing in school.”

“Good idea. Did the preschool mention Hope’s being autistic?”

“I haven’t talked to them yet. They were on my list for this afternoon.”

“I’ll ask when I call. If these repetitive behaviors are endemic to Hope versus being trauma-induced, then I’m going about things the wrong way. When will you be back?”

“Whenever Daniel comes back. He’s got my car keys.”

Meredith snorted a chuckle. “I suppose that’s one way to get you to listen.”

“I listen,” Alex protested.

“Then you do whatever the hell you want to do.” She sighed. “I can’t go back.”

“What do you mean? Are you staying?”

“For a few more days. If I leave and something happens, I’d never forgive myself.”

“I can take care of myself, Meredith,” Alex said, torn between gratitude and annoyance. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”

“No you haven’t,” Meredith said quietly. “You’ve been taking care of everyone else for years. You don’t take care of Alex. Come back soon. I need a break from this tune.”

Tuesday, January 30, 2:30 p.m.

The Jag rolled up beside him and the window slid down, revealing a very angry man. “What the fuck happened?”

He’d known he was in trouble when he’d gotten a call to meet in the middle of the day. It was a remote location and neither of them would leave their vehicles, but the sheer risk of being seen together…

“You said to make her stop asking about Bailey. My guy said she went straight to the county courthouse today. I’d told him if she got too close to make her stop.”

“And you left it up to ‘your guy’ to decide when and how to do that?”

“He definitely overplayed his hand. You’re right.”

“Goddamn straight, I’m right. Do you even know why she was in the courthouse?”

“No. My guy couldn’t follow her in. He… would have been recognized.”

Dark eyes rolled. “Oh, for God’s sake. You hired some ape with a fucking wanted poster hanging in the county courthouse? God, this town is filled with fuck-ups. I told you I would deal with Bailey.”

He jutted out his chin, unwilling to be lumped with the town fuck-ups. “You’ve had her for almost a week. You said you’d have the goddamn key in two days. If you’d delivered your end, the stepsister never would have started all this poking around, because I would have delivered my end and Bailey Crighton would have already been found in a dumpster somewhere outside Savannah by now.”

His dark eyes flashed dangerously. “What you’ve done could blow up in somebody’s face and it sure as hell won’t be mine. Hell. If you’d planned to hire a felon, why not hire one with a little more finesse? A hit-and-run in downtown in the middle of the goddamn day? Your guy is beyond stupid. He’s a liability now. Get rid of him.”

“How?”