“Closed adoption, right?”

Lynell nods and doesn’t miss the fact that Daniel hasn’t looked at her in a while. “Yeah. I don’t know them; they don’t know me.”

“It’ll be nearly impossible to track her down.”

“And once we do, she’s not legally ours anymore.”

Daniel swallows. “Well, considering the circumstances, that seems like a good thing.”

Lynell presses her fingernails into the palm of her hand and watches him breathe, willing him to look at her.

“We have to trust that she’s safe for now,” he says quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “That her identity is unknown. And until we are led to believe otherwise, let’s assume she’s not in immediate danger.”

“We still need to find her,” she says, begging Daniel to join her in her fear. But he takes a step forward and it’s obvious he already has. Despite his calm tone, Daniel’s hands are shaking, his eyes are wide, and his lips are quivering slightly.

“We have to pretend she doesn’t exist,” he says, and his voice finally breaks. “I want to find our daughter, but right now, the best we can do to keep her safe is pretend she doesn’t exist. We can’t tip off Eric in any way.”

“Daniel.” Lynell rushes toward him and throws her arms around his neck, carefully holding her left hand away to keep from aggravating the injuries. He drops his head into the crook between her neck and shoulder, shuddering out a jagged breath. His hands are rough against her back, but she missed the sensation so much she doesn’t care.

“They won’t find her,” he says. “They can’t find her.”

She wakes up in the corner of the room, her head lying on her rolled-up shirt. Goosebumps travel up her arms and she drags Daniel’s shirt, still wet but no longer cold, off and replaces it with her own.

“Daniel?” she says. She clears her throat and climbs to her feet. Light streams through the open windows and she squints as she steps forward. “Daniel?” she repeats, her chest feeling tight when there’s no answer.

“Danny!” she yells, anxiety spiking and no longer caring if neighbors hear. She runs through the bedrooms and bathrooms, each one empty. She slaps the wall before dropping her forehead against it, teeth grinding together to keep from screaming. The house feels like it’s melting around her, sticking to her skin and keeping her locked inside. She pushes off the wall, wipes her forehead and leaves the bedroom.

Muttering a curse under her breath, she strides for the still-splintered back door. She yanks it open and flinches when sunlight slaps her face and black spots disturb her vision. She closes her eyes and takes a moment to gather courage before heading into the backyard.

The gate opens when she’s halfway across the yard. Her original instinct to run falls away when she sees Daniel closing the gate behind him, his shoulders slumped forward. He’s wearing a large black T-shirt she doesn’t recognize and holding a bag.