NATALIE WAS STILL dead asleep on the couch, face upturned, lips parted. Keeping an eye on her, Whitney tiptoed past. Careful not to make too much noise, Whitney snatched up her purse and keys. She felt like a teenager sneaking out of the house, but she knew if Natalie caught her, she’d try to stop her.

The minute the cold air hit Whitney, she shivered. She had always hated the cold. Although, she wasn’t sure this weather qualified as cold. Springtime wasn’t extreme here. Still, she longed to be curled up in a warm bed, not outside running around in the dark in the middle of the night.

If only that were an option.

It was quiet in the complex, blinds closed, curtains drawn, lights off, in all the apartments she passed. She made her way down the stairs, careful to take quiet steps. When she reached the bottom, she heard male voices around the corner. Kind of by the park area. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Were the guys from apartment 204 back?

Rounding the corner, her tennis shoes pounded on the pavement. The voices got quieter, moving farther away. Desperation bloomed in her chest. She picked up the pace. When the men came into view, she hollered, “Wait!”

They both spun around, almost in perfect timing as if it was a choreographed dance routine. When they took in her face, their eyebrows leaped upward.

“Yes?” one of them said.

Whitney shrank back. There was no way these men were the ones Amelia had been hanging out with. They were Whitney’s age. Maybe older.

“Nothing. Sorry,” she mumbled. “I thought you were someone else.”

“We could be someone else,” the other man joked, jabbing his friend in the side with his elbow. His friend laughed. It was then that Whitney noticed their watery eyes, the flush of their cheeks and noses. “Tell us who you want us to be. Brad Pitt? Hugh Grant?”

Were they for real?

Her stomach tightened.

“I um...I actually should get back home...to um...my husband,” she lied, tucking her ringless hand behind her back.

“Husband,” the jokester said. “That’s a dirty word.” The two men laughed again.

It was a regular comedy fest out here.

Rolling her eyes, Whitney turned away from the strange men. Keeping her ears pricked, she hurried back where she came from. After rounding the corner again, she pressed her back against the wall and listened to the men’s retreating footsteps. They were walking too slowly, and she tapped her foot against the ground with impatience.

Once it was quiet again, she stepped out of the shadows. She was anxious to get back to that house. The one that had stolen her daughter from her.

But first, she felt the pull toward apartment 204. Every apartment down here was quiet and dark, blinds closed. Apartment 204 was no exception.