BooksBarbecue
Back Until I Find You
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  58. Also by Rea Frey
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

She takes Savi’s hand and leads her inside the station.

46

BEC

Bec waits for Jake outside.

“Bec!” His voice is swollen with relief. His footsteps pound the concrete as he jogs over. “Let me see.”

I maneuver Jackson, not daring to loosen my hold for even a second.

He takes a moment and then exhales a shaky breath. “I really can’t believe it. Come on. Toby’s waiting.”

I charge straight to the back of the police station, not bothering to tune in to sounds or hushed, excited whispers. No one believed me, but I never gave up hope. And because of that belief, my baby is back in my arms.

“Rebecca.” Toby’s voice is apologetic. Someone clears an agitated throat over his shoulder. A figure who’s taller and more in charge from where he’s positioned in the room.

“Chief Holbrook. Please let me apologize on behalf of Elmhurst PD for how this was handled.”

I take his hand and squeeze it firmly—a trait my dad instilled in me from a young age. No limp handshakes here. I can sense he wants to say more by way of an explanation—that he didn’t want to jump the gun, that they have to be certain before they make a missing-person case public—but I don’t care. I want to know why Crystal had my baby. Was she the one following me? Had she been casing me this whole time? As the puzzle pieces start to slip and shift, I realize my cardinal mistake. I trusted her without ever really knowing her.

Mentally, I sort through the facts: I met her at a grief group. I assumed she was an interior designer, but did I have proof of that? She never invited me to her house, but she was always in mine.

I spew my thoughts into the police station, laying a track of her behavior. The men stay silent as I weave my supposed web, and then, finally, Jake interrupts.

“The nanny—Pam Booker—gave her statement. Gave us some insight into what’s been going on.” He rustles a piece of paper. “Apparently, Crystal hired her a few months ago for Oliver and had her sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

I balk. “Why?”

“Paul was a lawyer. Crystal claimed it was standard. The girl is young, probably didn’t want to lose the chance at the job,” Toby explains.

I shake my head, confused. “What does a nondisclosure agreement have to do with anything?”

“It specifically states she is not to discuss the baby or anything that goes on in that house,” Jake says.

I listen, dumbfounded. “What else did Pam say?”