Would Nate be around? She could still conjure his image. Still thought of him often. Too often, considering they'd never had anything but a business relationship. Well, business plus a lot of meals together. The fact that he'd helped her stay alive probably went beyond the typical reporter-source relationship.

Marisa was telling herself for the millionth time not to think about Nate Boyle—a futile command if she'd ever heard one—when the email program dinged.

She stalked to the computer and looked.

Leslie is safe for now, but she needs to see you.

She stood straight again. Odd that Nate was emailing instead of Leslie.

Okay, not completely odd. She'd made it so they would need to contact each other in order to contact her. Her pathetic little fail-safe. Nate had held onto the drawing while Leslie had always had the ability to find the information it held. So neither could just contact her on a whim, and they'd both have to agree. Nate probably hadn't even known he could. So yes, it made sense they were together. But once Leslie had gotten the email address, why keep Nate involved?

Marisa trusted Nate. Of course she trusted her sister, too, but Nate had proved over and over he was not only trustworthy, but able to protect her. Maybe Leslie understood that Nate's presence would make Marisa more comfortable.

On the other hand, what if she was being duped? What if these people weren't Nate and Leslie at all? What if Nate had second thoughts about protecting her? What if he'd discovered the email address and given it to that FBI agent?

Worse yet, it could be one of Charles Gray's men. Charles was still in prison, but he'd had enough friends on the outside to force Marisa to run for her life. What if one of them had gotten ahold of the email address?

Maybe one of them was forcing Leslie to email her right now.

Marisa had to know.

She sat and clicked reply. Leslie is with you right now?

He answered immediately. Right beside me.

Ask her... Marisa paused. She thought for a moment, then typed, Where was the doll's favorite hiding place?

A moment passed. Marisa stared at the screen. If it took too long, she would know. But what would she do about it? If it was Charles's men, Marisa couldn't let Leslie be hurt, tortured even, to save herself.

She thought of little Ana. If she had to choose between her sister and her daughter...

The inbox dinged. Thank God.

Hi, sis. She liked to hide on the shelf beside the macaroni.

It was an old argument. Marisa thought the doll preferred the floor of Mom's closet, beside the pretty shoes. Leslie argued that the poor doll needed to eat sometimes. Another message came in.

She was easy to find there, though.

But at least she wasn't hungry, Marisa replied.