Yet, Thursdays, when Nola left to take the train to Manhattan, Jenna would clutch at her and scream. Her face red and bloated, she would still be sobbing in hiccups when Nola returned seven hours later. Mini-Nazi said she’d never heard of a child behaving like that, that Jenna was a great performing artist. Nola understood the grief. She felt like crying for her parents the same way, every day, for hours, until she would melt away. Later, in her bed, she did.

“My voice teacher has met an artist-and-repertoire man from Musix Records,” Nola told Beverly. She halted. This was crazy.

“That’s a good label, Musix—”

“Forget it,” Nola said. That man from the record company, Wade Dalton, had told the voice teacher that he didn’t mind hauling himself all the way out to Smithtown on his way to a weekend in the Hamptons, but he had little faith that anything would come out of listening to some sixteen-year-old sing the national anthem at a high school football game.

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 16

“Where is she?” Nola screamed at the maid.

Seeing Nola's face, the woman began to tremble, and her chin lowered so low it touched her breastbone.

“She was here!” Nola yelled, knowing the maid didn’t understand. “With you!”

Wade came out of the bathroom to investigate the ruckus. Dental floss was wound on his finger. He took one look at Nola’s face, murmured, “I’ll get an interpreter,” and dashed out.

The hotel manager promptly appeared. He spoke with the shaken maid, then said, “Two men come take baby. Say you send them, so she think okay.”

“Two men? Oh, God—” Nola's legs turned to liquid, and she collapsed onto the chair. “Oh, God— Lulu's been kidnapped!”

A horrible groan reverberated in the room, a croaking like a wounded animal’s cry, and Nola realized it came from the depths of her throat. She clamped her hands over her face. “Call the police. Please, find her. Oh, God—”

“Were the men Chinese or Western?” Wade asked, but the hotel manager had already hurried out.

No. Please, God. Nola could not feel her legs. She bent to touch them as if she were unsure to whom they belonged. Stay calm, she ordered herself. She must keep her wits about her. Her fingers shook as she grabbed the phone, “What’s Ashford’s number?”

Wade's arms wrapped around her. “My vulnerable bird,” he murmured into her hair, gathering her even closer. “Everything’ll be all right.”

She struggled to free herself from his hug. “How?” She gasped for air. “You’re not saying that you’ll find Lulu.” Time was rushing by while powerful forces were conspiring to destroy her baby. She gasped again. Every minute counted—

“Slow down, Hon. Take big, deep breaths. Think of your voice training,” Wade said. He disengaged her fingers from the receiver.