PROLOGUE
"MOMMY, CAN WE SEE the mountains with the telescope?” Nora Bright Webster asked as she peered out at them from the Space Needle observation deck.
Glancing at snow-capped Mount Rainier in the southeast, Honor tugged one of her four-year-old's copper braids. “Sure we can, Peaches.”
The brilliance of Nora's smile was contagious. “Yea! I like the mountains.” Green eyes too large for her small face sparkled; peaches-and-cream cheeks lightly sprinkled with freckles glowed. “We don't never have to go back to California or those other places, do we?”
Taking her gaze from the tiny miniature of herself, Honor opened her purple leather clutch, meaning to get coins for the pay telescope. “Not for a long time, anyway.”
A small child needed stability and another year or two would probably seem like forever to her. Though they'd been in Seattle for eleven months, Nora still had to be reassured that her latest home and her newest friends wouldn't be snatched away from her as they had been so frequently in the past.
Honor was digging for her coin purse when she was jostled from behind. The clutch tumbled from her hands, spilling its contents over the observation deck floor. With a sound of exasperation, she slid her slim lilac skirt high enough to allow her to stoop. Gathering the dozen or so loose items, she scooped them back into her purse. She only had her back to her daughter for a few seconds, but when she rose and turned, Nora was gone, no doubt having wandered off into the crowd.
“Nora, honey, where are you?”
Frowning, Honor stepped toward the core of the observation tower and searched the throng of tourists – some waiting to leave, others milling about. No copper-headed little girl. Then the doors of the elevator slid open. Even more people surged out of the car, driving her back.
“Nora,” she called again.
As she looked around in vain, her concern quickly grew.
Telling herself to stay calm, Honor began circling the tower. She assured herself that Nora was fine, that her daughter must have gotten swept up by the crowd, that she would spot her at any second. But halfway around the observation deck, she realized she should have caught up to those short little legs by now. Her pulse threaded unevenly. A large knot of tourists loomed before her, threatening to slow her down. She shoved through them, mumbling her apologies.
But no matter how fast she went, she couldn't catch sight of Nora.
Heart thundering in fear, Honor stopped near the elevator boarding area. She'd come full circle to naught. What now? she wondered, fighting to think clearly.
Help.
She had to get help.
But before she could place one neatly shod purple pump in front of the other, a hard body pressed full length against her back and a large hand gripped her elbow.
“Freeze, Ms. Bright, and don't turn around.”
The low, hoarse words whispered at her ear were menacing. The breath caught in her throat, and Honor did as she was told. He knew who she was – and she wasn't stupid.
“Nora... where is she?” Honor swallowed hard and choked out, “And what is it you want?”
“I want you to read this.”
A folded piece of white paper flew past her. Before she could grab the note, the elevator doors opened and a new set of tourists poured out, one stepping on the missive and kicking it back, further out of Honor's reach. More people got between her and it. Nearly in a frenzy, she pushed into their midst.
“Get out of my way!” she yelled, desperate to get her hands on the lifeline to her daughter.
“Geez, lady.” a teenager complained.
“How rude,” an elderly woman added.
Their words barely registering, Honor lunged for the note, scraping her shins and tearing a stocking as she hit the deck. Her trembling fingers snatched the folded paper from the threat of an oncoming foot. Still on her knees, she pressed the paper to her chest for a second. She was trembling all over and couldn't stop.
Finally, she unfolded the note and read:
Tell no one if you want to see
your daughter again. Go home
and wait for instructions.
Her pulse came in quick little spurts and her head grew light as she looked around for the man who'd left the missive. Not that she could recognize him. Dazed, she let her eyes slide over a half-dozen possibles before returning to the words already emblazoned on her mind.
A uniformed security guard approached. “You okay, ma’am?”
She blinked stupidly. “Yes, I...”
His hand tucked under her arm and lifted her to her feet. “Come on, we'll find you a place to sit.”
“No. No. I have to go home.”
“Rest for a minute, first,” he said kindly.
“No. Right now.”
“Okay, okay.” He let go of her and backed off. “Whatever you say, ma'am.”Honor wanted to say her daughter had been kidnaped and beg the security guard to help her. He'd probably think she was crazy like the rest of the people who'd stopped to watch.
And if they found out she'd told...
Her stomach clutched and threatened to empty. Honor clasped her hand over her mouth and took a shaky breath. She willed herself to breathe normally. To smile. It was the greatest job of acting she'd ever done.
For Nora was her heart. Her life. Without her daughter, she had nothing.
“I'm all right. Really,” she assured the security guard who stood staring, his expression concerned as she edged toward the elevator. “I just have to go home now. I'm all right.”
A lie. If anything happened to Nora...
Slipping the note into her clutch and pulling out her key ring, Honor feared that she might never be all right again.