Anderson handed him a business card. "Just call, if you want. I'm happy to help. Even if Marisa did steal the money, nobody deserves to have their kid snatched."

Nate was halfway to the door when Anderson said, "You know what I never understood?"

Nate turned. "What's that?"

"The money was stolen from two accounts and sent to two different accounts. I always figured maybe the person was hedging his bets—maybe the feds would get to one, but he'd always have the other, too. But maybe... Maybe two different people did it."

Chapter 12

MARISA YANKED THE KEYS out of the ignition, climbed out of the pickup, and slammed the door. She'd been waiting half an hour, and she couldn't sit still another minute. The problem was, Nate hadn't told her the address of the auto body shop. She could start walking in the direction he and Garrison had gone, but what if she couldn't find it? And what if Nate and Garrison got back and she wasn't there? Would they worry?

It would serve them right.

She crossed her arms and rubbed her shoulders. It was chilly and overcast, and it smelled like rain. She'd always loved that scent, like the air was charged with some invisible force. When she'd been a little girl, her father had told her that the smell of rain meant God was close. "He's always near, but when you smell rain, he's trying to remind you, to bring you peace. When you smell rain, God is right beside you."

For all her father's faults, he'd been a believer. He'd taken their family to the Catholic Church faithfully every Sunday before he and Mom had divorced. And Marisa knew that tradition hadn't fallen away over the years. He'd believed in a good, kind God. And then, he'd been killed. He'd been back in Puerto Rico visiting family—people she'd never met—when he'd borrowed a cousin's motorcycle to take a ride. Family reunion one minute, funeral the next.

Would Marisa ever get to keep anybody she loved, or would they all be taken from her? Her mother, her father, Vinnie, Ana, Leslie. Would Nate be next?

The scent of rain wasn't bringing her the peace her father had promised.

Where were Nate and Garrison? Would Nate take her back to Nutfield today, or would they stay in New York? Despite the fact that New York reminded her of all she'd lost, and all she feared, she wanted to stay. Ana was nearby. She could feel it. Or maybe she just wanted desperately to believe it. She felt the phone, still in her pocket. She hadn't walked away from it for a second since it had been dropped in her bag in Acapulco. Why hadn't the kidnappers called back? Garrison's theory had made sense at the time, but in retrospect, she wondered if he'd just been trying to placate her.