“So,” Sebastian said, his gaze flicking to the driveway, to Agent Roosevelt, “the FBI doesn’t know.”

“No one does.”

“Then what’s he doing here?”

“He’s driving me,” Ava said. “Charles and I came up with a list of people who might be able to help with the ransom.”

“And how are you going to explain me?”

“I don’t know. An old friend, maybe. But I felt it was important to come here—and I couldn’t do it on my own. They insist on driving us everywhere.”

Sebastian exhaled as he leaned forward in his seat and, elbows propped on his knees, rubbed his face with his hands.

“A daughter,” he mumbled into his palms.

“We all make mistakes when we’re young,” Ava said. “Some mistakes you can’t come back from when you’re young and scared—and I was terrified, Sebastian. I was pregnant, and you were in prison. I wanted to give my baby a good life, not the one you and I had. And I did. I made that decision, and—”

“Stop. Just . . . stop.”

She did. They sat in silence, Sebastian trying to wrap his mind around everything she’d said. In the midst of the confusion and the rising anger and loss and grief and everything else he was feeling, a small but powerful voice kept whispering to him, You have a daughter. With Ava.

Grace. Her name was Grace.

A daughter with Ava. Mother, father, daughter. A family. The life he’d wanted but not the life he had. His real life consisted of a psycho quasi stepson who had tried to kill him and was, without question, going to try to do it again. Then he would turn around and take everything he had worked and sacrificed for and burn it to the ground.

“Please,” Ava said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“The kidnappers.”

“They called Charles the following morning, using some device or piece of software that changes their voice. Don’t know if it was a man or woman. The person said they had Grace and they wanted twenty million dollars in unmarked bills, some other things.”

“When did they ask for delivery?”

“They haven’t given an exact time yet. They said they would be in contact.”

“How much do you need?”

“Charles is in the process of liquidating his portfolio. That’ll give us, by the end of the business day tomorrow, roughly six million, which leaves us fourteen million to—”

“You’ll have it.”

“Sebastian,” she began.

“It’s done. I’ll have the money in a couple of hours. All I ask is two things. First, when we bring Grace home—and we will—I want to get to know her.”

“You can take that as a given.”

“Second, I would rather not invite the police into my life at this point.”

“I understand.”

No, I don’t think you do, he added privately. The police would start poking around, asking questions not only of him but of the people around him, and that would lead them to wanting to talk to Frank, who was “on vacation,” and to Paul, who was hiding. All a cop needed was to catch the slightest whiff that something was off, and Sebastian would have every aspect of his life put under a microscope.