Gone by Mallory Kane Page A

realize that I wasn’t like your mother.”
    “Don’t bring Kit into this,” he snapped, a harsh, jagged panic ripping into his chest. He didn’t want to talk about his mother. He didn’t even want to think about her and the news she’d driven out to Metairie to tell him—was that just three days ago? He didn’t want to have to explain to Marcie about the exposé in the newspaper that had prompted Howard to hold Joshua for ransom. He knew she’d have to know eventually, but he was in no hurry to spill this latest chapter in the story of his, as she always put it, unconventional upbringing.
    “You never want to talk about her. It’s like she’s some kind of goddess on a pedestal, and you’re her guardian.” Marcie stood and grabbed her cup to take to the sink. It clattered noisily when she set it down. “What I never could understand is why you never thought about Joshua or me in the same way. Why couldn’t you have appointed yourself guardian for your child? Maybe if you had—”
    Joe stood so abruptly that he knocked the kitchen chair over. “Don’t do this. Don’t start with me now about letting him be taken.”
    Marcie turned on him, her electric blue eyes blazing. “But that’s exactly what you did. You let him out of your sight. You set his carrier down on the ground. He was your baby and you let him—”
    “Stop it!” Joe shouted, clenching his fists at his side. “You don’t have to keep hammering at me! I know! I know what I did! So shut—”
    The harsh jangling of the phone made Joe swallow his words. He jumped and whirled toward the sound.
    Marcie jumped, too, and let out a little screech of surprise. Then she pressed a hand against her chest. “Oh! It’s him,” she gasped. “It’s him, isn’t it? I don’t—should I—”
    Joe held up a hand that shook. “I’ll get it,” he said breathlessly. He was terrified. What would Howard demand in return for their child? Would he really hurt Joshua if they couldn’t get the money he wanted? “I’ll talk to him.
    “Joe Powers,” he said into the mouthpiece, noticing that the number was blocked.
    “Ho-ho! It’s you,” the guttural voice said. “Did you get a look at your kid yesterday? I hope so because that just might be the last time you ever see him, if you don’t do exactly what I say.”
    Joe glanced at Marcie, who was still standing by the sink. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if in prayer and she was watching him unblinkingly. Joe didn’t like what he was about to do, and he knew Marcie wouldn’t like it, but it was the only way he could keep the upper hand against this man who was at best a low-life opportunist, and at worst a psychopath. He hadn’t worked any kidnappings with NCMEC, but he’d gotten some training from the FBI on handling abductions across state lines. The training plus common sense dictated that he couldn’t let Howard get an advantage. Showing weakness could cause harm to the child.
    “Hey,” Howard said. “Are you listening to me? I said—”
    “I heard what you said,” Joe replied. “But I’m not interested.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marcie start, then put her hands over her mouth. He held up his hand, palm out, hoping she understood the message. Don’t worry. I’m handling this. Stay calm.
    Before the other man could speak, Joe went on. “I don’t even know if that’s my kid. Can you prove that the child is even mine?”
    “Joe!” Marcie gasped, starting toward him.
    He held up his hand again, then turned his back on her and walked across the room.
    “Wha—?” Howard exclaimed, apparently not prepared for that answer. “Of course he’s yours, you stupid ass. The same day the newspaper said you lost your child, that’s the day my girlfriend showed up with him.”
    “I’m going to need more than just your word on that, Howard. I need proof. Send me a picture of him and a picture of the clothes he was wearing when Rhoda took him.” Joe felt Marcie’s