Everything?
What else could there be?
A second message arrived before I could respond.
A photograph.
Not of me.
Not of Vanessa.
Of Hannah.
Standing outside a pediatric clinic, Grace’s car seat hooked over her arm.
The photo had been taken from a distance.
My vision narrowed.
Vanessa had found her.
Or someone had.
I called Marisol immediately.
“Forward it to me,” she said. “Do not respond.”
“She knows where Hannah is.”
“Forward it. Now.”
I did.
Within minutes, Marisol called back.
“We’re notifying Hannah’s attorney and requesting protective measures.”
“I need to warn Hannah.”
“No. Her attorney will.”
“That’s my wife and child.”
“And if you violate the order, you may lose any chance of seeing your child. Let the lawyers handle it.”
I hated her for being right.
I spent that night pacing.
Every instinct screamed at me to drive, search, call, do something.
But every selfish instinct I had followed had brought us here.
So for once, I stayed still.
The next morning, Daniel arrived again.
He looked angrier than I had ever seen him.
“You told Vanessa where Hannah was?”
“No.”
“She sent a photo.”
“I know.”
His jaw flexed. “Hannah had to move again.”
The words cut deep.
Again.
Because of me, Hannah had disappeared once.
Because of Vanessa, she had to disappear twice.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“She’s scared.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel stepped closer. “You need to end whatever this is before someone gets hurt.”
“I tried.”
“Try harder.”
“She filed an HR complaint against me.”
“Good.”
I looked at him.
He didn’t apologize.
“You want me to feel sorry for you because your affair got complicated?” he asked. “I’m here because Hannah is afraid. Not because you are sad.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His voice cracked then, just slightly.
“She loved you, Trevor. Do you understand that? She defended you to everyone. Even when Emily begged her to leave after the hospital, Hannah said Grace deserved a father. She waited for you to become one.”
My eyes burned.
“And you were buying perfume.”
I had no defense.
Daniel pulled something from his pocket.
A small plastic baby rattle.
Yellow, shaped like a duck.
“She told me to give you this.”
I stared at it.
“Why?”
“She said Grace doesn’t need it anymore.”
I took it carefully.
