Chapter 1 - The Little Girl in the Rain
The autumn wind cut through Emma Reynolds's thin jacket like a blade she was too tired to dodge anymore.
She was six years old, though nobody would have guessed it from the way she moved through Pioneer Square Park.
She did not run.
She did not skip.
She did not complain.
She walked with her shoulders hunched and her eyes constantly moving, searching for danger before danger could find her.
Three months had taught her that much.
Three months since her mother's hand had gone cold in hers.
Three months since the machines in a hospital room had stopped making noise.
Three months since Greg had driven her downtown, placed a small canvas bag on the sidewalk beside her, and said four words she had believed because she was six.
Wait right here. I'll be right back.
Emma had waited.
She had waited beneath the gray sky until the sun disappeared.
She had waited while traffic thinned.
She had waited while the city lights came on.
She had waited until the cold made her teeth chatter.
Greg never returned.
At first, Emma thought he had simply gotten delayed.
Then she thought he had been hurt.
Then she thought maybe he had gotten lost.
Eventually, the truth became too heavy for a six-year-old to carry, but she carried it anyway.
He had left her.
Nobody came looking.
Nobody asked where she was.
Nobody put up photographs.
Nobody called her name.
So Emma learned how to disappear.
She slept in the children's corner of the public library until the staff asked her to leave.
She washed her face in public bathrooms.
She sometimes slept beneath covered stairwells when the weather was dry enough.
When it rained, she found whatever shelter she could.
Food was harder.
Food required luck.
She had learned which restaurant dumpsters were sometimes placed near the alley rather than directly against the building. She knew which bakery discarded pastries just after closing. She knew which convenience store clerk sometimes pretended not to notice a hungry child taking a bruised banana from the trash.
She had become very good at not being seen.
That afternoon, she hadn't eaten since the previous morning.
Her stomach hurt so badly that she had stopped noticing the pain after a while.
She walked through the park, scanning beneath picnic tables.
A crushed granola bar wrapper.
Empty.
A paper cup.
Nothing.
Then she heard crying.
Emma stopped.
Her first instinct was to keep walking.
That was what survival had taught her.
Do not become involved.
Do not attract attention.
Do not let strangers know you are alone.
But the crying came again.
A small, frightened sound.
Emma's feet moved before she could stop them.
She followed the noise toward the playground.
A little boy sat alone on a wooden bench.
He couldn't have been more than four or five.
His cheeks were red from crying, and rain had dampened his dark hair.
Emma looked around.
No adult.
No parent.
No one nearby.
She approached slowly.
"Are you lost?"
The boy looked up.
His eyes were huge.
"I can't find my daddy."
Emma stayed several feet away.
"He was here?"
The boy nodded.
"He was right there."
He pointed toward the playground.
"I saw a squirrel."
"Okay."
"I wanted to show Daddy."
His voice cracked.
"And then he was gone."
Emma looked at the empty paths.
Someone was probably searching.
That was good.
At least somebody was looking for this boy.
"What's your name?"
"Josh."
"Josh what?"
"Joshua Anderson."
Emma nodded.
"I'm Emma."
The boy sniffed.
"How old are you?"
"Six."
"Me too."
Emma almost smiled.
"You don't look six."
"I am."
"Okay."
She sat at the opposite end of the bench.
"Your dad is probably looking for you."
"What if he can't find me?"
"He will."
"What if he thinks I ran away?"
Emma looked at him.
"He won't."
Josh wiped his nose.
"What if nobody comes?"
The question struck her so deeply that for a second she couldn't breathe.
She knew that fear.
She knew it better than any child should.
"What if I stay here forever?" Josh whispered.
Emma stared at the wet pavement.
Then she remembered her mother's voice.
Soft.
Warm.
Always patient.
Whenever Emma had been frightened during storms, Sarah Reynolds used to sit beside her bed, brush her hair from her forehead, and hum a melody about stars guiding lost children home.
Emma hadn't heard that melody in months.
But she remembered every note.
Without thinking, she began humming.
Josh slowly stopped crying.
Emma kept her eyes on the playground.
The melody rose and fell with the rain.
Josh listened.
After a minute, his breathing steadied.
"What's that?"
"My mom used to sing it."
"When?"
"When I was scared."
Josh looked at her.
"Where is she?"
Emma swallowed.
"She's gone."
"Like my mom?"
Emma glanced at him.
"Your mom is gone?"
"Daddy says she's in heaven."
Josh looked down at his shoes.
"I don't remember her very much."
Emma understood that kind of missing.
Not remembering someone enough to know exactly what you lost.
She continued humming.
Then a man's voice tore through the rain.
"Josh!"
Emma's heart jumped.
"Joshua!"
Josh stood.
"Daddy!"
A tall man came running across the path.
He looked exhausted.
His dark hair was streaked with premature gray, his expensive coat soaked through, and panic had transformed his normally controlled expression into something raw.
He crossed the distance in seconds.
"Josh!"
He dropped to his knees and pulled his son into his arms.
"Oh, thank God."
Josh clung to him.
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
"I thought I lost you."
"I saw a squirrel."
"I know."
"I couldn't find you."
"I know."
The man kissed his forehead again and again.
Emma watched.
She should have left.
That was what she always did.
She was already rising when Josh pointed toward her.
"She helped me."
The man finally noticed Emma.
His expression changed.
Relief remained on his face.
But now something else appeared.
Concern.
He looked at her clothes.
The thin jacket.
The dirty sneakers.
Her tangled hair.
Her hollow cheeks.
The way she stood as though prepared to run at the slightest movement.
He looked at her for several seconds.
"Thank you."
Emma said nothing.
"What is your name?"
She hesitated.
"Emma."
"Emma, thank you for staying with my son."
She nodded.
"How old are you?"
"Six."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"You shouldn't be out here alone."
Emma took a step backward.
"I should go."
"Wait."
He stood.
"My name is Daniel Anderson."
She took another step.
"It's cold."
"I know."
"The rain is getting worse."
"I know."
He looked across the street.
"There is a café right there. Can I buy you something hot?"
Emma's survival instincts screamed.
No.
Never go somewhere with a stranger.
Never trust promises.
Never let someone take you away.
Then her stomach cramped so violently she pressed a hand against it.
Daniel noticed.
"Hot chocolate," he said gently.
Emma looked at him.
"With marshmallows."
She swallowed.
Josh added, "And cookies."
Emma's eyes flicked toward him.
"They have really good cookies."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"Three cookies if you want them."
Emma's lips parted.
Three.
Her stomach hurt.
She had forgotten what three cookies looked like.
"Just until the rain stops," Daniel said.
She remained frozen.
Then Josh reached out his hand.
"You can sit with us."
Emma looked at the little boy.
He smiled.
Something about the innocence of it made the decision for her.
She nodded once.
Daniel opened the café door.
Warm air rushed over Emma.
The smell of sugar and coffee nearly made her dizzy.
She sat at a small table while Daniel ordered.
When the hot chocolate arrived, she held the cup in both hands.
She drank too quickly and burned her tongue.
Daniel immediately pushed it away from her.
"Slow down."
Emma looked embarrassed.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
He placed three cookies on a plate.
Emma stared.
Then she ate.
One.
Two.
Three.
She tried to stop at the third, but her hunger won.
Daniel watched silently.
There was a strange expression on his face.
Not pity.
Anger.
Not at her.
At whoever had allowed a child to reach this condition.
"Emma," he asked quietly, "where do you live?"
She stopped chewing.
"I have somewhere."
"Where?"
She stared at the cookie.
"I don't know."
"Who takes care of you?"
Silence.
Daniel leaned forward.
"Your mother?"
"She's dead."
His face softened.
"Your father?"
"I don't know where he is."
"Do you have anyone?"
Emma looked up.
"No."
Daniel glanced at Josh.
Then back at her.
"Where do you sleep?"
Emma didn't answer.
That answer told him everything.
He reached for his phone.
"Daniel?"
Josh touched his father's sleeve.
"She's scared."
Daniel lowered the phone.
"I know."
He looked at Emma.
"You're not in trouble."
She nodded.
But her eyes said she didn't believe him.
Before Daniel could ask another question, a black SUV pulled up outside.
Two security men rushed inside.
"Mr. Anderson."
Daniel stood.
"What?"
"We've got a problem."
"What?"
The guard glanced at Emma.
Then back at Daniel.
"There was a second vehicle following you from the park."
Daniel's expression changed.
"Whose?"
"We don't know."
Emma's heart began racing.
The same instinct that had kept her alive for three months screamed that something was wrong.
Daniel noticed.
"Emma."
She looked at him.
"Have you seen that vehicle before?"
She glanced through the window.
Black SUV.
Tinted windows.
She shook her head.
Then one thought entered her mind.
Greg had taught her to watch cars.
Not people.
Cars.
Because cars could take you somewhere you didn't want to go.
She stared through the rain.
Then whispered something that made Daniel's blood run cold.
"That one."
She pointed toward a second vehicle parked half a block away.
"I've seen it before."
Daniel turned toward the window.
"Where?"
"Near the library."
"When?"
"Twice."
His security team immediately moved.
Daniel looked back at Emma.
Someone had been following her.
For how long, neither of them knew.
But suddenly the frightened six-year-old girl in the corner of the café wasn't just a homeless child.
May you like
She might have been a witness.
And perhaps the reason someone had kept watching her.
