“Where’d you find her?” Highway 87 about 40 mi out. Standing in the middle of the road, Sheriff Cole emerged from his office. A thick-built man in his 50s who’d seen most everything Pine Ridge had to offer. His expression shifted from irritation at being interrupted to sharp focus. “Get doctor Brennan,” Cole ordered Marcus. Tell her it’s urgent.
Ethan laid Lily on the worn couch in the waiting area. She was barely conscious now, her skin still that horrible blue white color. Her name’s Lily, Ethan said. She’s from Seattle. Her nanny was bringing her somewhere, told her to hide in the snow, never came back. The kids been walking for days. Cole’s jaw tightened. He pulled out his radio.
Marcus, once you get Doctor Brennan, I need you to check for missing person reports out of Seattle. 5-year-old girl, blonde hair, brown eyes. Name Lily, last name unknown. Dr. Brennan arrived within 10 minutes, medical bag in hand. She was a nononsense woman who’d served as Pineriidge’s only doctor for 20 years.
She took one look at Lily and immediately began treatment. “Modderate hypothermia,” she muttered, wrapping Lily in heated blankets. She’d brought frostbite on the toes. Dehydration, malnutrition. This child hasn’t eaten properly in days. Will she be okay? Ethan asked. Brennan looked up at him. You found her when you did.
Another hour, maybe two, and we’d be having a different conversation. The weight of that settled in Ethan’s chest. Another hour, two at most. The margin between life and death had been that thin. Marcus returned, his face pale. Sheriff, I found something. Actually, I found a lot of somethings. Spit it out. There’s no missing person report for any Lily from Seattle.
But there’s something else. Marcus’ hands shook as he held up his tablet. Check the news. Cole took the tablet. His expression shifted as he read, and Ethan watched the sheriff’s face drain of color. What? Ethan demanded. Cole looked at Lily, then at Ethan. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper because she’s not missing or she wasn’t supposed to be.
The article on the screen showed a professional photograph of a woman in her mid30s. She wore a tailored business suit, her dark hair pulled back, her expression confident. The headline read, “Cross tech CEO Victoria Cross offers $5 million reward for safe return of daughter.” Ethan stared at the photo. Then at Lily, sleeping fitfully under Dr. Brennan’s care.
He looked back at the article. Lily Cross, Marcus said quietly, daughter of Victoria Cross, founder and CEO of Cross Technologies. They make cloud security software companies worth about $12 billion. Lily went missing from their Seattle penthouse 3 days ago along with her nanny Rachel Flynn. Sheriff Cole scrolled through the article.
FBI’s involved. They’ve been treating it as a kidnapping. The nanny Rachel Flynn was found dead this morning in a ravine off Highway 2 about a 100 miles north of here. Single gunshot wound to the head. The temperature in the room seemed to drop despite the heater running full blast.
So the nanny was killed, Ethan said slowly. But Lily was never found because Rachel hid her, told her to stay hidden no matter what. Rachel saved her life, Dr. Brennan said softly. She was still working on Lily’s feet, cleaning and bandaging. Whatever was happening, whoever was after them, Rachel made sure they wouldn’t find this child.
