Page 40 of Take A Chance

My shoulders were tight. I hadn’t slept well last night knowing Emma was out there without me. Katelyn had cried at bedtime, just as I suspected she would, and Greta had to stay in her room. The whole house had felt empty without Emma’s presence. I didn’t want to go back there. I wanted to be out on the street searching for her, but that was one thing the detective got right. If she showed up, she’d need me there.

Gary got me home in record time, and when the car stopped and I opened the door, Greta was standing on the front step, chewing a fingernail. I climbed out, and she raced toward the car.

“What did they say? Can they find her? Do they know anything?” She trailed behind me as I barged toward the house, a little ankle dog snapping at my heels.

“They won’t even file the damn report.” I burst through the door irrationally angry, but the moment I heard Katelyn’s crying, I stopped. “She’s still upset?”

“Yes, sir. Marta is trying to get her to calm down. I called the doctor, and he recommended some warm milk and soothing music. He can prescribe a sleeping aid if we need it.”

I waved her comment off. “I’m not drugging my child.” I turned and scowled at her. If she had told me her suspicions about Emma weeks ago, I might have prevented this. I was angry, but Greta was the best household employee I had.

“What will we tell her? And what about school?” She wrung her hands and furrowed her brow. The fact that she was just as worried about Emma as I was made it easier to forgive her for keeping secrets from me. When I had Emma safely back in my arms, I’d worry then about how to handle her failure to divulge crucial information.

“Tell her Emma went on a trip, make something up. I don’t care.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. It was the PI. “I have to take this. Go see to Katelyn. I’ll come up shortly.”

Greta hurried off, and I swiped right to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Speak.”

“Right, so here’s what I know. Emma Clarke is deceased. Died twenty-two months ago of cancer. She lived in New Vista nursing home in Newark, New Jersey.” I walked toward my office while he spoke. “She is survived by three children, seven grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. I suspect your nanny has stolen her identity, or at least her name. The other Emma Clarkes on record are not around this area. There is one in northern New Hampshire, and a few scattered around the Midwest, but the driver’s license number you shared leads me to this Emma Clarke.”

“Dead?” I asked, dropping into my desk chair. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, so there are criminal rings that recycle old photo IDs to use for providing people with a fresh start. I am going to have to do some real digging here, Blake. You have a ghost right now.”

“And she’s in the wind. Goddammit,” I shouted, picking up a pen off my desk and throwing it. “She lied to me!”

If I weren’t already enraged, I would have been at that second. The pen skittered across the floor and came to a stop near the door, right where Emma’s foot had been cut when she stepped on that piece of glass. How could I be angry with her? She was the most incredible woman I’d ever met.

“Keep digging. Make this your main priority. I don’t care whose dog went missing or whose spouse is cheating. I own you until we find her.”

“So she lied to you about her real identity and you’re still wanting more info?”

His question was a fair one, but he knew nothing about Emma or the way I felt about her. “She’s missing—taken off the side of the road. Alright? Just find her.”

I hung up and slammed my phone onto my desk. Emma lied, which meant she had a very good reason to lie. She would never just blindly lie to deceive me. Would she?

God, I needed a drink.

23

Emma

“I’ve had just about enough of this from you, Amelia.” Father’s hand came down hard across my cheek, and I yelped as it made contact. I backed away, crawling across my bed and curling into a ball in the darkness. “You want to refuse to eat, then you will starve. I won’t waste food on you, and your ungrateful attitude has now earned you a lock on your bedroom door. You won’t go to the kitchen to eat late at night, either.”

“But...” I reached out to him in protest as he stormed out of the room, leaving me holding my sore cheek. Tears stung my eyes. I wasn’t refusing food. I just didn’t feel well. Anything I ate came up anyway, moments after I ate it. I was exhausted, too, barely able to sleep due to night terrors. Mentally, I was barely holding it together.

I lay on my side, pulling the covers up over my body. The T-shirt and boy shorts I wore were the only comfortable clothing I had. When I left I took most of my favorites with me, and all of that was still at Blake’s house. I did have a few outfits here I could wear, but I was locked up. Why get dressed when I had no place to go?

A soft tapping at my door drew my attention, but I didn’t get up. My father would have just walked in. One of his men would not have knocked softly, which meant it was likely the maid coming back to try to convince me to eat. It wouldn't do any good. I wasn’t hungry. I was nauseous. I had been since the day they took me right off the street.

“Go away,” I called. I grabbed my pillow and pressed it down over my head, trying to block out the noise. The tapping came back, and this time the door opened. I heard it squeak on the hinges. I still didn’t look up. Between my stomach churning and the pain in my face, I just wanted to be alone.

“Amelia?” a voice called, but it was muffled. I squeezed the pillow on my head harder, hoping they went away. It was a woman’s voice, but with the pillow over my head I didn’t recognize it. Maybe they hadn’t heard me tell them to go away because my voice was muffled. I lay perfectly still, whispering a prayer that they’d go away, but I felt a hand shake my shoulder. “Amelia?” the voice said again.

I thrust the pillow away from myself and sat up, tossing the covers back. “What!” I snapped at the same instant I recognized Allegra’s tear-stained face. “Oh, my God.” I crawled across the bed and wrapped my arms around her. She winced and yelped in pain, and I took a step back, realizing I’d hurt her. “Are you okay?”

She whimpered but shook her head. She had a black eye, similar to the one I’d have tomorrow, and she held her arm gingerly, as if it were broken. “I’m okay. I mean, they roughed me up a bit, but it’s nothing that won’t heal.” Allegra should never have gotten dragged into this.

“My God, I’m so sorry. Why did they do this? Why are you here?” She wasn’t a part of the family. She never had been. I’d met her in college, and only when I needed help to get out had I told her of my involvement with the Caruso crime syndicate.

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