her. “I’ve had enough tea to sail a ship. Just stay with me. Talk to me. Tell me everything is going to be…” She stopped, as if frozen, then: “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” she cried out.
I tightened my hold, hoping the agents sitting downstairs in our living room wouldn’t be alarmed and come barging into our bedroom, guns ablaze. But I knew they wouldn’t: they were used to this. Used to dealing with people who’d fallen into a hole of utter misery and, struggle as they might, never managed to crawl out, only getting deeper until…
“It’s a good thing, you know,” I said, swiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
“What?” she croaked, a heartbreaking look of hope on her face, as if there could possibly be something positive happening in our lives, some bit of good news that I’d somehow forgotten to share with her.
“The second note,” I said. “It means they’re ready to make a deal. We can find a way to get Mikki home.”
“They want ten million dollars, Jaspar. We don’t have that kind of money. We could give them everything we have—this house, my salary, your royalties, whatever we could beg, borrow and steal—and it still wouldn’t be enough. God, Jaspar, what’s going to happen to our baby when they realize we can’t pay?”
“Jenn, you can’t think like that. We’ll find a way to make this work. These people—whoever they are—they’re finally making a move. They’ve given us a date and a place. It’s only two days from now. In two days we’ll have Mikki back.” I pulled away and patted the area between us, feeling the warmth of the sheets radiate through the palm of my hand. “We’re going to put her right here, between us, and we’re not going to let her leave this bed until she’s thirty-five.”
The area around Jenn’s mouth, where sexy grins once lived, grew less taut. It was the best she could do. How I longed for her to smile—like she did the first night we met in that campus pub, her pouring shooters down my throat. Or like she did beneath her wedding veil as she floated down the aisle towards me. If only she would smile again—just for a moment, a brief moment. Then maybe my heart could stop clenching, and the agony would go away, just for a moment.
“They want us to go on TV,” she said after a minute. “To do one of those things where we plead with the assholes who took her to spare her life and give her back to us.”
“I know.”
“It’s ludicrous. It’s not like the kidnappers are going to be sitting around watching TV, see us and suddenly think, hey, you know what, they’re right. Let’s just call this off and send the little girl back to her mommy and daddy. The media are the only ones who get anything out of that. A perfect photo op of the famous author and his wife bawling their eyes out. Nothing better to sell papers and spike ratings.”
“I know.”
“I can’t do it, Jaspar. I can’t go on TV and beg for Mikki’s life. I would if I believed for even a second that it would help, but it won’t. It never does. These guys want money. Lots of it. They stole a child for Chrissakes! You think they care about what we have to say?”
“I know. You’re right. But we have to give them something. I know how the media works, Jenn. If we do nothing, they’ll only hound us longer and louder until we do. We need to say something.”
“Why? Because you’re worried how we’ll look if we don’t?” She sat up straighter, eyes heating up. I knew the pose. I knew the look. I braced. “If we don’t step in front of the cameras and beg those monsters to give our daughter back, then suddenly we’re the monsters? Suddenly we’re suspects in our own daughter’s disappearance? Is that it? You’re worried about how that will make you look? How it’ll ruin the reputation of the oh-so-handsome, ever-so-charming, world-famous Jaspar Wills?” She was a battering ram in desperate need of a door to smash against.
“Jenn, you know I don’t
I tightened my hold, hoping the agents sitting downstairs in our living room wouldn’t be alarmed and come barging into our bedroom, guns ablaze. But I knew they wouldn’t: they were used to this. Used to dealing with people who’d fallen into a hole of utter misery and, struggle as they might, never managed to crawl out, only getting deeper until…
“It’s a good thing, you know,” I said, swiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
“What?” she croaked, a heartbreaking look of hope on her face, as if there could possibly be something positive happening in our lives, some bit of good news that I’d somehow forgotten to share with her.
“The second note,” I said. “It means they’re ready to make a deal. We can find a way to get Mikki home.”
“They want ten million dollars, Jaspar. We don’t have that kind of money. We could give them everything we have—this house, my salary, your royalties, whatever we could beg, borrow and steal—and it still wouldn’t be enough. God, Jaspar, what’s going to happen to our baby when they realize we can’t pay?”
“Jenn, you can’t think like that. We’ll find a way to make this work. These people—whoever they are—they’re finally making a move. They’ve given us a date and a place. It’s only two days from now. In two days we’ll have Mikki back.” I pulled away and patted the area between us, feeling the warmth of the sheets radiate through the palm of my hand. “We’re going to put her right here, between us, and we’re not going to let her leave this bed until she’s thirty-five.”
The area around Jenn’s mouth, where sexy grins once lived, grew less taut. It was the best she could do. How I longed for her to smile—like she did the first night we met in that campus pub, her pouring shooters down my throat. Or like she did beneath her wedding veil as she floated down the aisle towards me. If only she would smile again—just for a moment, a brief moment. Then maybe my heart could stop clenching, and the agony would go away, just for a moment.
“They want us to go on TV,” she said after a minute. “To do one of those things where we plead with the assholes who took her to spare her life and give her back to us.”
“I know.”
“It’s ludicrous. It’s not like the kidnappers are going to be sitting around watching TV, see us and suddenly think, hey, you know what, they’re right. Let’s just call this off and send the little girl back to her mommy and daddy. The media are the only ones who get anything out of that. A perfect photo op of the famous author and his wife bawling their eyes out. Nothing better to sell papers and spike ratings.”
“I know.”
“I can’t do it, Jaspar. I can’t go on TV and beg for Mikki’s life. I would if I believed for even a second that it would help, but it won’t. It never does. These guys want money. Lots of it. They stole a child for Chrissakes! You think they care about what we have to say?”
“I know. You’re right. But we have to give them something. I know how the media works, Jenn. If we do nothing, they’ll only hound us longer and louder until we do. We need to say something.”
“Why? Because you’re worried how we’ll look if we don’t?” She sat up straighter, eyes heating up. I knew the pose. I knew the look. I braced. “If we don’t step in front of the cameras and beg those monsters to give our daughter back, then suddenly we’re the monsters? Suddenly we’re suspects in our own daughter’s disappearance? Is that it? You’re worried about how that will make you look? How it’ll ruin the reputation of the oh-so-handsome, ever-so-charming, world-famous Jaspar Wills?” She was a battering ram in desperate need of a door to smash against.
“Jenn, you know I don’t
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