Marisa hands shook, and she pulled in another breath and forced it out, trying to push down the frantic fear. "I didn't take the money. I never had it."

"I thought you loved your daughter."

"I do." She swallowed a sob and looked at Nate.

He pulled the phone closer. "Even the feds don't think she has it."

"You talked to the cops?"

"No!" Marisa shouted.

Nate laid his hand on her knee. When she looked at his face, he put one finger over his lips. The universal sign for shut up.

"I told the agent I was working on a follow-up story," Nate said. "You said that if we could prove Marisa didn't steal it, you'd let them go. We're trying to figure out who stole it."

"Right." The man drenched the word in sarcasm. "She has the money, and you're probably in on it."

"If we had the money," Nate said, "We'd give it to you with interest to get Ana and Leslie back."

"Please, you have to believe us," Marisa said. "We're trying to find it."

Nate met her eyes. He wanted her to keep quiet. But how could she?

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you want the money"—Nate ignored the man's obvious sarcasm—"and you've paid a high price to get it. You've kidnapped two people. You've made yourself an international criminal. But you've targeted the wrong person. Marisa doesn't have it, and she never did. We're doing our best to figure out who does. And you'll let them go. Right?"

"You don't ask the questions," the voice said.

"You're already a kidnapper. A kidnapper who lets his victims go might escape. A kidnapper who treats his victims well, the courts might have mercy on him. You don't want to become a murderer. A child killer. Nobody has mercy on that guy."

"Nobody's going to get hurt if I get my money."

My money. Marisa met Nate's eyes, and he nodded. "We need to speak with Ana and Leslie."

"You need to get the money."

"We're working on it. Please put them on the phone."

"Screw you. Get the money."

"We're not doing anything if we don't hear Ana's voice right now."

The man swore a blue streak, which was followed by silence. On the other end of the line, Marisa could hear scuffling, some banging. And crying.

Ana's crying.

"Shut up, kid. Talk to your mother."

A moment passed while tears streamed down Marisa's face. She couldn't move, afraid to break the connection and the only link to her little girl.

"Mama?"

"Oh, baby." Marisa stifled a sob. "Are you all right?"

"I want to come home now." Her voice was strong, just like always. Marisa wanted to hug her confident little girl so badly, her limbs ached.

"I know, pajarita. I miss you so much. I'm trying to get to you."