Chapter 1 - The Call Before Dinner
“You always investigate blind dates?”
Claire did not apologize.
“I have a daughter.”
“So do I.”
“Then you understand.”
Jack studied her for a moment.
“I understand checking whether someone is safe. I’m less clear on why you needed my employee count.”
For the first time since she sat down, Claire looked faintly embarrassed.
“My chief of staff got carried away.”
“Did she send you my credit score?”
“Would you prefer not to know?”
He laughed before he could stop himself.
Claire looked surprised by the sound. Then she smiled properly, and for a second the exhausted executive across from him became a woman who might once have laughed often.
Jack liked that woman immediately.
That complicated things.
The server brought water and left them with bread neither touched.
“How old is your daughter?” Jack asked.
“Nine. Olivia.”
“Mine’s eight. Emma.”
“Does she object to you dating?”
“She selected my shirt.”
Claire glanced at it.
“Good choice.”
“She rejected the gray one on professional grounds.”
“What grounds?”
“Apparently, I looked like a substitute teacher who had lost control of the class.”
Claire laughed.
It was brief, but real.
Then her phone vibrated.
She checked the screen, typed a reply, and put it down.
“Sorry.”
“Emergency?”
“Board politics.”
“Sounds worse.”
“Usually is.”
For several minutes, they managed an ordinary conversation.
Emma loved astronomy and considered vegetables a personal insult. Olivia played piano, read mysteries, and had recently announced that adults made rules mainly because they disliked explaining themselves.
“She sounds observant,” Jack said.
“She’s terrifying.”
“Good. Maybe our daughters can run the world and let us retire.”
Claire’s expression softened.
Then it closed again.
“I should be honest about something.”
“You’ve been fairly direct so far.”
“I don’t have time to fall in love.”
Jack leaned back.
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on the appetizer.”
She stared at him.
Then she laughed again, longer this time.
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
“Do you?”
“You have a daughter, a complicated job, and a life that probably works because every hour has somewhere to be.”
Claire looked down at her untouched water.
“Yes.”
“I’m not asking you to rearrange it tonight.”
That answer seemed to trouble her more than flirtation would have.
“My husband died three years ago,” she said.
Jack’s expression changed.
“I’m sorry.”
“People usually say something about how difficult that must have been.”
“It probably was.”
“It still is, sometimes.”
He nodded.
“My wife died four years ago.”
Claire looked up.
“Rachel didn’t tell me.”
“I asked her not to make it the headline.”
“What was her name?”
“Kate.”
“Mine was Owen.”
Neither offered advice.
Jack found himself grateful for that.
Their food arrived at seven thirty-eight.
Claire had taken two bites when her phone rang.
She checked the name.
“Rosa. Olivia’s nanny.”
“Take it.”
Claire answered with an easy, automatic warmth Jack had not heard from her before.
“Hi. Did she remember to—”
She stopped.
Something in her face changed so completely that Jack put down his fork.
“Olivia?”
He could hear a child breathing.
Fast.
Then a thin voice came through the speaker.
“Mommy, there’s a man.”
Claire stood so quickly her chair struck the booth behind her.
“Where are you?”
“In the quiet room.”
Jack was already signaling the server.
“Where’s Rosa?” Claire asked.
“She fell.”
“What man, sweetheart?”
“He said you sent him.”
A scraping sound followed.
Then Olivia whispered, “He’s outside.”
Claire’s hand began shaking.
Jack moved beside her.
“Put it on speaker.”
She obeyed without arguing.
“Olivia,” Jack said calmly, “my name is Jack. I’m here with your mom. Is the door closed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Stay where you are.”
Claire stared at him.
“The room is reinforced. It was installed last year.”
Jack took out his phone and called emergency services while Claire kept talking.
Their address was in the foothills, less than fifteen minutes away.
Under ordinary conditions.
Outside, evening traffic was beginning to thicken.
“Mommy?”
“I’m here.”
“I can’t find my inhaler.”
Claire’s face drained.
Jack gave the dispatcher that information immediately.
“Olivia,” Claire said, “there should be one in the wall pouch.”
“No.”
“Check again, honey.”
A faint cough.
Then another.
Jack heard the difference.
He had spent enough years around frightened people to recognize when fear was no longer the only problem.
“Claire,” he said, “we’re going.”
She grabbed her coat but could not get her arm through the sleeve.
He helped her without speaking.
At the restaurant entrance, she fumbled for her driver’s number.
“My car—”
“Mine’s here.”
They reached his pickup at seven fifty-one.
Forty-seven minutes after she walked into the restaurant.
Claire climbed inside and gripped the dashboard.
“Drive faster.”
Jack pulled into traffic while the dispatcher remained on his phone.
“We’re coming, Olivia,” Claire said.
There was no answer.
“Baby?”
Only a faint rustling sound.
Then nothing.
Claire turned toward Jack.
All the authority had left her face.
“She stopped talking.”
Jack kept his eyes on the road.
“Keep speaking to her.”
“What if she can’t hear me?”
“Then let the last thing she heard be your voice telling her you’re coming.”
May you like
Claire pressed the phone between both hands.
“Olivia, listen to me. I’m coming home.”
