Except he wasn’t. He had wanted … He had hoped …

If they had ever had that moment, the one where Sandy nervously confessed they were expecting a baby together, he would’ve been touched, awed, humbled. He would have been eternally grateful.

But they never got that moment. His wife was gone, and he was left with the ghost of what might have been.

As well as the specter of impending criminal arrest.

He would take his daughter and run. Only thing that could be done, because sooner or later, Sergeant Warren was going to appear on his front porch with an arrest warrant, and a family court officer. He’d go to prison. Worse, Ree would go to foster care.

He could not let that happen. Not for his sake and not for his daughter’s.

He headed for the attic.

The access panel was in the closet of the master bedroom. He grabbed the handle in the ceiling, and pulled down the rickety folding stairs. Then he clicked on a flashlight and headed up into the pitch black gloom.

The attic space was only three feet tall, meant for storage, not comfort. He crawled along the plywood floor, shuffling around boxes of Christmas decorations until he reached the far corner. He counted two rafters over to the left, then shoved aside the exposed insulation and reached in for the flat metal box.

He pulled it out, thinking it felt lighter than he remembered. He set the flashlight down on the floor, raised the lid….

The metal box was empty. Cash, IDs, all gone. Cleared out.

Police? Sandy? Someone else? He couldn’t understand it. He’d never told anyone about his emergency escape kit. It was his little secret, one that kept him from having to bolt awake screaming every night. He was not trapped. He had an escape plan. He always had an escape plan.

And then, while his mind was still frantically trying to process what had happened to him, how it could have possibly happened to him, he became aware of something else. A noise, not far below him.

The creak of a floorboard.

Coming from his daughter’s room.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

As family vacations go, Jason’s choice of hotel shocked me. I had expected some moderately priced, kid-friendly establishment Instead, we arrived at a five-star getaway resort, complete with a full-service spa and yawning indoor pool A bellhop in a red coat with gold-braid trim led us up to the very top floor, which could only be accessed by inserting the room key into the elevator key pad. Then, he escorted us to a two-bedroom corner suite.

The first room contained a king-sized bed with sumptuous white bedding and enough richly brocaded pillows to furnish a harem. Our view overlooked Boston Harbor The bathroom featured wall-to-wall rose-colored marble.