on finding her son.
He parked in the alleyway behind her car. Still keeping an eye out for anyone too interested in them, he followed her inside. Her design choices set a clear mood, homey, tidy and comfortable. The furniture was secondhand, in good repair and clean. She’d probably refinished and reupholstered everything herself. Gleaming hardwood floors anchored the modest living room, ran back through the dining space to the kitchen and into an alcove with a stacking washer and dryer.
Without a word, she went up the stairs that bisected the first floor.
Looking closer, he got the sense there were clear rules here about cleaning up, making beds and eating whatever veggies were on the plate. None of that surprised him. Shannon had a reputation among the crew for being prompt, clean and friendly. She pulled her weight—more than—with the crew and she held firm about how much teasing she’d tolerate.
The evidence of a young boy in residence showed up in the booster seat at the table, the basket of children’s books under the stained glass floor lamp by the couch and a pint-size table in the corner of the living room bathed in light from the front window. Daniel smiled at the line of trucks—dump, cement, freight—waiting for their boy to come home and put them to work. He couldn’t help wondering if the kid had a fire truck somewhere in his fleet.
“Should I take some of Aiden’s things, too?” she asked.
He smothered his surprise, pleased her voice sounded stronger. Turning toward the stairway, he gave her a smile. “Only if it helps you. When the kidnappers release him, I’m sure you’ll both be able to come home.”
“Right.”
The single word, loaded with doubt, tore him up. As he debated the wisdom of giving her more reassurances when he didn’t have any guarantees, she headed back upstairs. He gave her a few minutes, checking the windows and door locks, wondering how to be respectful and polite in an untenable situation. Ten minutes later, concerned at her absence and more silence, he went up after her.
The bedrooms were on either side of the stairs, with a good-sized bathroom wedged in between. “Shannon?”
He found her in the smaller bedroom at the back of the house. Sitting in a rocking chair, she had her hands wrapped around a floppy blue rabbit and her gaze locked on her son’s small bed. “Shannon, honey, we need to go.”
“Why?” The strength she’d displayed minutes ago was gone. “We should stay, be here so they can bring him home.”
He recognized the shock and denial that often set in amid crisis and dire circumstance. Kneeling in front of her, he covered her hands with his. “Is this his favorite?”
“From day one,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “He doesn’t sleep—can’t sleep—without it.” She held it to her face, breathed deep, lowered it to her lap. When her weepy eyes met his, his heart clenched. “He gets so grumpy when he doesn’t sleep.”
“He’ll be all right.” Daniel didn’t want to give her false hope, and yet there was nothing else to offer. “Take it with you. It will make you both feel better when you’re reunited.”
“You sound so confident.” She tried to smile, but her lips wobbled. “I appreciate it.”
It took some prompting to get her moving and keep her on task as she gathered clothes and toiletries to spend a few days away from home. She would pause, her hands full and her expression empty. The stark terror in her brown eyes made him wish for the power to restore everything with a snap of his fingers.
Regardless of Grant’s trust in Daniel to stick with her and keep her safe, he wasn’t a bodyguard or an investigator. Hell, at this point he wasn’t sure he could even keep Shannon in line with the plan or explain her presence on the job site tomorrow. She was devastated, unfit for work, and he didn’t have a clue how to pull her out of the worry that kept dragging her down.
Going on instinct, he decided to start by making sure she wasn’t alone and building on that foundation. He kept up a monologue of nonsense, sharing his ideas for the charity house while he packed her suitcase and stowed the things she handed him from the bathroom into a smaller tote.
“What about tonight?” he asked, noticing she hadn’t selected anything special for their next visit to the club. “The concert,” he reminded her. “Grant could have news,” he added when he thought she might launch another protest.
With a heavy sigh, she returned to the closet, shoved hangers back and forth until she eventually pulled out a black dress. She repeated the mute search for heels and dropped them on the bed. Sitting on the velvet-covered stool in front of an antique vanity table, she gathered makeup and dropped it into the tote.
At last they were done and he carried her things downstairs.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, trailing him to his truck.
He tucked her suitcase and tote in the cab behind the seats. “There’s a flip I haven’t quite finished over in Francisville. We’ll stay there tonight. Once we get you settled, we’ll swing by my place before the concert.”
Her lips thinned, confirmed she wasn’t happy with him shadowing her.
“Are you going back to the site today?” she asked as he backed out of the alleyway.
“No. Ed’s got it under control.” He weaved his way through the neighborhood streets crowded with parked cars on both sides.
She groaned. “What did you tell him about me running off?”
“I only said there was a mix-up at the sitter about which kid got hurt on the swings and things are under control. He has kids, he gets it.”
“I hate lying to him,” she said.
“On the upside, the place is done.” The news seemed to deflate her more. “It gives me a solid reason to take them out and celebrate at the concert.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.” She tugged at the seat belt, as if she felt choked. “I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing at all, going to Grant, putting you in this awkward position.”
“I’m fine.” How many more times would she need him to say it? “It was my idea to go to Grant, remember?”
“When he starts asking questions...” Her voice trailed off.
“You didn’t disobey. Kidnappers say no cops all the time,” he pointed out. “I think it’s a standard step one.”
“Maybe in the movies,” she said. Her cell phone on her denim-clad thigh, she tapped her fingertips across the black screen as if she could summon contact from the kidnappers at will.
“Grant would support you if you wanted to file a report and get a formal search going.”
“I want that very much. A formal search, I mean.” She swiped away the errant tear rolling down her cheek. “If the kidnappers are like my ex, I doubt it would get us anywhere.” She cursed under her breath. “I want my son home safe, sleeping in his own bed. I want to go back to yesterday and stay there, freeze time. Or fast forward to tomorrow or the day after, when he’s home.”
“Just keep believing you’ll see him again.”
She sniffled. “I want to. I want that so much, I’ll cooperate with the first demand not to formally involve police.”
“All right.” Although he couldn’t advise her one way or another, he could be grateful she was talking again and he’d be her sounding board.
“You can’t think cooperating is a mistake after encouraging me to pack up and leave my home?”
“Didn’t say that,” he replied.
“Didn’t you?”
Daniel glanced over, caught the flash of a fight coming into her brown eyes. “No.” He wouldn’t let her goad him into a futile argument.