They took the articles Reba had bought from Target with them. Leaving them in the back might give the police a clue. Nash went through the bag. She had bought underwear and books and even some old family-friendly movies on DVD.

“Did you hear what I said, Reba?” He held up the DVD case. “‘Whiskers on kittens.’”

Reba was hog-tied. Her doll-like features still looked so dainty, like porcelain. Nash had taken the gag out. She looked up and groaned.

“Don’t struggle,” he said. “It will only make it hurt more. And you’ll be doing enough suffering later.”

Reba swallowed. “What… what do you want?”

“I’m asking you about this movie you bought.” Nash held up the DVD case. “ The Sound of Music.A classic.”

“Who are you?”

“If you ask me one more question, I will start hurting you immediately. That means you will suffer more and die sooner. And if you annoy me enough, I will grab Jamie and do the same to her. Do you understand?”

The little eyes blinked as though he had reached out and slapped her. Tears sprang to them. “Please-”

“Do you remember The Sound of Music, yes or no?”

She tried to stop crying, tried to swallow the tears away.

“Reba?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes,” she managed. “I remember.”

Nash smiled at her. “And the line ‘whiskers on kittens.’ Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“Which song was it from?”

“What?”

“The song. Do you remember the name of the song?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do, Reba. Stop and think.”

She tried, but fear, he knew, could have a paralyzing effect.

“You’re confused,” Nash said. “That’s okay. It’s from the song ‘My Favorite Things.’ Remember it now?”

She nodded. Then remembering: “Yes.”

Nash smiled, pleased. “ ‘Doorbells,’ ” he said.

She looked totally lost.

“Do you remember that part too? Julie Andrews is sitting with all these children and they had nightmares or were scared of the thunder or something and she’s trying to comfort them so she tells them to start thinking about their favorite things. To take their mind off the fear. You remember, right?”

Reba started crying again, but she managed a nod.

“And they sing, ‘Doorbells.’ Doorbells, for crying out loud. Think about that. I could probably ask a million people to list their top five favorite things in the world and not one- not one!-would say doorbells. I mean, imagine: ‘My favorite thing? Well, obviously doorbells. Yes, siree, that’s my very favorite. A friggin’ doorbell. Yep, when I really want to get happy, when I want to get turned on, I ring a doorbell. Man, that’s the ticket. You know what gets me hot? One of those doorbells that make a chiming sound. Oh, yeah, that does it for me.’ ”

Nash stopped, chuckled, shook his head. “You can almost see it on Family Feud, right? Top ten answers up on the board-your favorite things-and you say, ‘Doorbell,’ and Richard Dawson points behind him and goes, ‘Survey says…’ ”

Nash made a buzzing noise and formed an X with his arms.

He laughed. Pietra laughed too.

“Please,” Reba said. “Please tell me what you want.”

“We’ll get to that, Reba. We will. But I will give you a hint.”

She waited.

“Does the name Marianne mean anything to you?”

“What?”

“Marianne.”

“What about her?”

“She sent you something.”

The look of terror multiplied.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, Reba. I’m going to. I’m going to hurt you very badly.”

And then he crawled into the back of the van and proved good to his word.

WHEN Mike got home, he slammed the door and started for the computer. He wanted to bring up the GPS computer Web site and see exactly where Adam was. He wondered about that. The GPS was approximate, not exact. Could Adam have been in the vicinity? A block away maybe? In the woods nearby or the Huffs’ backyard?

He was about to call up the Web site when he heard a knock on the front door. He sighed, rose, looked out the window. It was Susan Loriman.

He opened the door. She had her hair down now and no makeup and he once again hated himself for thinking that she was a very attractive woman. Some women just have it. You can’t quite pinpoint why or how. Their faces and figures are nice, sometimes great, but there is that intangible, the one that makes a man a little weak in the knees. Mike would never act upon it, but if you didn’t recognize it for what it was and realize that it was there, it could be even more dangerous.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

She didn’t come in. That would set tongues wagging if any of the neighbors were watching and in a neighborhood like this there was bound to be one. Susan stood on the stoop, arms folded, a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar.

“Do you know why I called you?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He wondered how to handle this. “As you know, we need to test your son’s closest biological relatives.”

“Okay.”

He thought about Daniel Huff’s dismissal of him, the computer upstairs, the GPS in his son’s phone. Mike wanted to break this to her slowly, but now was not the time for subtlety.

“That means,” he said, “we need to test Lucas’s biological father.” Susan blinked as though he smacked her.

“I didn’t mean to just blurt-”

“You did test his father. You said he wasn’t a good match.”

Mike looked at her. “ Biologicalfather,” he said.

She blinked and took a step back.

“Susan?”

“It’s not Dante?”

“No. It’s not Dante.”

Susan Loriman closed her eyes.

“Oh, God,” she said. “This can’t be.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

She said nothing.

“Susan?”

“Are you going to tell Dante?”

Mike wondered how to answer that. “I don’t think so.”

"Think?”

“We are still sorting through all the ethical and legal implications here-”

“You can’t tell him. He’ll go crazy.”

Mike stopped, waited.

“He loves that boy. You can’t take that away from him.”

“Our main concern is Lucas’s well-being.”

“And you think telling Dante he’s not his real father will help him?”

“No, but listen to me, Susan. Our main concern is Lucas’s health. That’s priority one, two and three. That trumps every other concern. Right now that means finding the best possible donor for the transplant. So I’m not raising this with you to be nosy or to break up a family. I’m raising this as a concerned physician. We need to get the biological father tested.”

She lowered her head. Her eyes were wet. She bit down on her lower lip.

“Susan?”

“I need to think,” she said.

He normally would press this, but there was no reason to right now. Nothing would happen tonight and he had his own concerns. “We will need to test the father.”

“Just let me think this through, okay?”

“Okay.”

She looked at him with sad eyes. “Don’t tell Dante. Please, Mike.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond. She turned and left. Mike closed the door and headed back upstairs. Nice couple of weeks for her. “Susan Loriman, your son may have a fatal illness and needs a transplant.Oh, and your husband is about to find out the kid isn’t his! What’s next? We’re going to Disneyland!”

The house was so silent. Mike wasn’t used to it. He tried to remember the last time he’d been here alone-no kids, no Tia-but the answer eluded him. He liked downtime by himself. Tia was the opposite. She wanted people around her all the time. She came from a big family and hated to be alone. Mike normally reveled in it.

He got back to the computer and clicked the icon. He’d bookmarked the GPS site. A cookie had saved the sign-on name, but he needed to enter the password. He did. There was a voice in his head that screamed for him to let it go. Adam has to lead his own life. He has to make and learn from his own mistakes.