Leah could see the man through the glass in the door. He looked like a detective, she thought. He had broad, square shoulders and a broad, square jaw. He was dressed like Don Johnson on Miami Vice in a T-shirt with a linen jacket over it. A pair of aviator-style sunglasses hid his eyes.

She pressed the intercom button beside the door. “I’m supposed to ask to see your badge,” she said nervously, afraid that she was just wasting valuable time. Of course the man was a detective.

In the back of her mind she thought he looked familiar, but she didn’t know any detectives here, so that didn’t make sense to her. It didn’t matter anyway. The only thing that mattered was getting to her mom.

Please, God, don’t let her die. I have to tell her I’m sorry.

“Good girl,” the detective said with a nod. He lifted a badge and showed it to her through the glass. “I’m Detective Houston. You can open the door now.”

Relief flooded through Leah and she opened the door.

The second Detective Houston stepped inside, Leah had a bad feeling. Why would he come inside if he was supposed to take her someplace?

Immediately, she tried to dismiss the bad feeling. She was nervous because something had happened to her mom. And she was always uneasy around men she didn’t know. She chided herself for being stupid. He was a detective. He’d shown her his badge. Not every man on the planet was a kidnapper.

Instinct made her take a step back from him, just the same.

Behind her the telephone began to ring.

Leah took another step back and started to turn to go to it.

The detective grabbed hold of her arm.

“Let it ring,” he said.

Leah thought he would draw her toward the door. They had to leave. Her mother was hurt. She had been taken to the hospital. They had to get to her.

But the detective didn’t move toward the door, and fear burst into flame inside Leah.

She tried to pull away from him. He held tight. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

The phone rang again. The answering machine would pick up soon. Why would he not want her to answer the phone?

Leah twisted and jerked her arm free, her hand swinging up and knocking the sunglasses off his face.

It struck her then why he looked familiar. He had come to the barn. He had been dressed differently. He hadn’t been wearing sunglasses. He had smiled at her like she was supposed know him and be glad to see him. He hadn’t said anything about being a detective. He hadn’t used the name Houston.