With his eyes locked on Gwens, Ricks hand shot up into the air, the card trapped between two of his fingers. Teeny snatched it and ran out the room.

He stared at her, shaking his head slowly.

You probably hate me, she said.

I dont, Rick said, suddenly exhausted down to the marrow of his bones.

Nothing good ever comes of it.

By the time the sun came up, Josie had quite a few things figured out.

First, she knew she was stuck like a bug in a glass jar. All doors were locked solid with numeric keypads and pass codes. All the windows had been welded shut and coated on the outside with an opaque film that kept her from getting a sense of her location. She couldnt even tell if she was on a ground floor or twenty stories up. Shed seen Cummings carrying a small flip phone in his pocket, but otherwise there were no telephones, no computers, no way to reach the outside world. Even the TV in her suite had no live signaljust a DVD player and a stack of movies.

Also, it was obvious to Josie that Bennett Cummings wasnt a hardened criminal, and certainly not a natural-born kidnapper. Bennett couldnt bear to look at the red marks on her wrists. With each mention of how he planned to shoot her, he sounded more and more like a bad actor in a low-budget movie, like he had to impress himself with his diabolical plan as much as he needed to impress Josie. Cummings was nervous. Hed had about six drinks the night before, and he paced for hours. Josie watched him from a crack in her bedroom door.

But there was one other thing she sensedBennett Cummings was stuck, never allowing himself to grieve the loss of his daughter. Josie had spent the last eight years looking into the face of grief, so she knew what she was talking about. He was still so angry he couldnt see straight, and he thought revenge against Rick would make his loss easier to bear. It didnt work like that, of course, but you couldnt tell that to someone when they were caught up in their hate the way Cummings was.

Josie couldnt help but wonder if this whole mess might have been avoided if Bennett Cummings had found a way to grieve. Thats when it hit hermaybe conversation would be the only weapon shed need.

I hope youre not planning a doomed escape attempt. Cummings said that as he walked from the kitchen and dining areas of the house to where Josie sat in the fancy living room. He handed her a to-go cup of convenience-store coffee.

Josie looked around her. The place was something out of /Architectural Digest/. Josie figured that if she had to be kidnapped, this was a swanky way to be imprisonedmodern, sleek furniture, bamboo floors, geometric art, a slate waterfall built right smack in the middle of the room. It would probably be stunning if the sun were allowed to shine through the huge windows.

Josie studied Cummings as he walked toward her and took a seat in a matching leather and chrome chair. He seemed tired.

Im not planning my escape, Mr. Cummings, she said. I was just thinking of Margot.

His eyes flew wide. She saw his pulse beat against the thinning skin of his throat. Shes not yours to think about, he snapped. You do not have permission to do so.

Josie shrugged. Its just that the only things I know about her is what Rick told me. I was just wondering what kind of person she was.

Cummings glared at her. He was a very smart man. Josie suddenly questioned her approach.

She was beautiful. Intelligent. Funny. And then, after your boyfriend got through with her, she was sad, limp, gray, and brain-dead. He produced a sneer. Any more questions?

Josie swallowed. Do you have any pictures of her with you?

He didnt move. He didnt answer.

I was just curious.

Cummings remained stone-still.

Im sorry. Youll have to forgive me, Josie said, making her voice as kind as she could. You probably dont know this, but I write obituary feature articles for the /Herald,/ and Ive learned that talking about a late loved one can be cathartic for the family. Im embarrassedits just a reflex, I suppose, and I do apologize.

Without comment, Cummings got up from the chair and left the room. Josie was about to groan out loud at her own stupidity when he came back, a copy of the morning /Herald/ in his hand. He threw it down on the coffee table.

Of course I know about you, Miss Sheehan. He laughed. Everyone in San Francisco knows about you this morning.

Josies lips parted in shock. She reached for the paper. Top left, above the fold, the headline read:

HERALD REPORTER MISSING, POLICE FIND SIGNS OF ABDUCTION

As much as she hated to admit it, the article tickled her. The headline was relatively snappy. The piece was well written yet did not clue in Cummings about the methods the police were using to investigate the crime. Editors had chosen a photo of Josie and Genghis in Dolores Park, one that Bea had probably given them, and Josies hair looked great.

Friends and family offered a $500,000 reward for anyone with information that led to an arrest. There were quotes from her mom and dad, Beth, Rick, and Bea. The article described her as a woman who was cherished, missed, and fretted over.

Josie looked up, her eyes locking on Cummings. She would get out of there alive. She had no doubt. Because that was Josies beautiful life they were talking about in the paper, and she wanted to live it.

Josie began to sob. At first it was legitimateshe was humbled by how rich her life was, how fortunate she was to be loved the way she was.

But after a few minutes, Josie noticed how her crying affected Bennett Cummingshe looked terribly uncomfortable. So Josie cranked it up a notch, wailing about her family and her dog and how all she wanted was a chance to have a happy life. She cried until Bennett Cummings couldnt stand it anymore.

At the twenty-four-hour mark, investigators had made progress on some fronts but were stymied on others. An airport bureau cop spotted the 1998 Buick Skylark with Rhode Island plates in the short-term lot. The vehicle had already been towed to SFPDs forensics services division, but so far, there was no evidence linking the car to Josies abduction.

Police were viewing hours of security-camera footage that might have captured someone walking either to or from the car. But nothing yet.

The cell phone number Gwen Anders had provided was a prepaid phone from a Minneapolis wholesaler, paid for in cash about a year earlier. There was no way to determine who had purchased it or was using it. However, the FBI had begun pulling cell tower records to see if the number had connected with any of the areas sixty-plus towers within the last week, which could, at the very least, narrow down a search area.

Rick knew investigators were moving as fast as they could. He had no complaints. The San Francisco police detectives and the FBI agents were doing their jobs well. It just wasnt fast enough for him. It wasnt good enoughbecause they still hadnt found Josie.

Her parents were holding up remarkably well. Though Josies dad reassured him they didnt blame Rick for their daughters disappearance, her mothers eyes told him the real storyhed better get Josie back to them in one piece. Genghis moped around Ricks Pacific Heights home, obviously missing his owner. Once Josie was home safe, Rick would be happy to tell her that her dog was a devoted companion, after all.

He worried about her. He pictured her tied up and gagged and left without food or water. He worried that Cummings might hit her. Rick feared Josie would give up on him, decide he wasnt coming for her. The idea of that took him to the very edge of insanity.

He had to get out of the house. He grabbed Teeny and Genghis and they walked from one end of Pacific Heights to the next, mostly in silence, up hills and back down, for more than two hours. They were about three blocks from home when Teenys phone rang.