And Ana... Sweet Ana, if she was still alive, she no longer had someone to care for her. What was that man doing to her? Had Leslie died trying to protect her? From him? From pain? From death?

Marisa sat up, stared at the park, imagined the city beyond it, the state, the country. Her daughter was out there somewhere. They were no closer to finding out who stole the money than they had been at the beginning of this nightmare, and even if they did figure it out, would the kidnapper—the murderer—really exchange Ana for information? And risk being caught?

Why would he, when the only person left alive who could identify him was a four-year-old girl he couldn't care less about? A little Mexican girl, just a pawn with no value. A pawn who could destroy him.

And there was nothing Marisa could do. She'd adopted Ana to give her the best chance for a good life, and all she'd done was sign her death warrant. A Mexican orphanage was no place to grow up, but at least her daughter would've had the opportunity to grow up. To fall in love and have children. To learn and live and laugh. Now, Ana would have none of that. And Marisa... Marisa wouldn't survive this blow. She didn't want to.

The men waited behind her. She heard a car door open and close a minute later. Neither of them spoke.

Marisa didn't care. She just wanted to lie down on the cold grass and drift away. She ignored the moisture seeping through the denim. The soft blades of grass beneath her fingers seemed a perfectly good place to rest. Should she? How long would she be able to lie there before she froze to death? Was it cold enough at night to kill her?

If only she could run away from it all. Not face it. Like she'd run away eight years before. Except now... Now, the child of her heart, her love, would be the one to bear the burden. Marisa couldn't run. She could only go forward and face it. Ana was worth whatever price she had to pay.

Marisa would find her daughter, or she'd die trying. Right now... Right now, she just had to do the next thing, like Nate kept saying. Stand up. Wipe her tears. Breathe.

Keep going.

She returned to the truck, brushing slivers of grass off her hands and onto her wet jeans along the way.

"You okay?" Garrison asked.

It was a stupid question. She didn't answer.

He held out a stick of Trident and a bottle of water. She took the gum and popped it in her mouth.

"Why don't you sit down again?" Nate asked.