Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Cami sighed, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them as the feature story ended, and the newscaster moved on to something else. The TV droned on for a few minutes as Cami simply existed in that moment, letting the melancholy wash over her, waiting for it to lift as it always eventually did.
She supposed she forgave Hollis—after all, that forgiveness set her free as well—but he definitely wasn’t getting her vote. In fact, she might go online and donate to his opponent. Even if it was only a hundred bucks that would only matter to her and her sense of petty justice.
The sound of her phone ringing broke her from her reverie, and she got up and walked quickly toward the kitchen, where she’d left it. She almost didn’t answer the unknown number, but on the off chance it was another event contact calling about a butterfly delivery mix-up, she needed to make herself available.
“Hello?”
“Would you like a do-over?” The voice was distorted, high pitched, and overly fast, like one of those dolls you pull the string to make talk. Definitely female.
“Excuse me? Who is this?”
“Would you like a do-over?”
Cami had turned back toward the living room, and now she stopped where she was, a shiver traveling over her skin. “I’m sorry but you must have—”
“You will receive a photo in thirty seconds, and then you have half an hour to decide whether you’d like a do-over.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do not call the police or you’ll regret it. And others will too. Innocents.”
And then the line went dead.
Chapter Nineteen
Cami stared at the phone and, true to the caller’s word, thirty seconds later a text came through from a different unknown number with a photo attached.
Cami clicked on the photo, and her blood ran cold. It was a young boy, sitting on a bed in a room with bars on the window. There was no other furniture present, only a bedpan and a bottle of water. What the hell is this? She blinked, her eyes moving back to the child, sitting with his knees drawn up the same way she had been just minutes before. He looked terrified. With suddenly shaking hands, Cami used her fingers to zoom in on the boy’s face. And she nearly fell over.
He looked just like her.
My eyes. My nose. Even his ears were the same. And she saw Hollis in his expression, but he overwhelmingly looked like her.
With a tortured gasp, Cami reached for the wall, leaning on it as her legs turned to jelly.
Was it . . . but how . . .
The boy looked to be the same age her son would be. She shook her head. But no, this wasn’t possible. Her boy was somewhere in San Diego, California, living with a beautiful young couple who had a white poodle and a lovely home with a pool. He worked in tech, and she had planned to be a stay-at-home mom when the woman from the adoption agency had placed the baby in her arms.
The baby Cami had wailed silently for as she pictured the couple counting her son’s toes and running a finger over his tiny nose.
No no no no. What is this? Was it some kind of sick joke?
She pushed herself off the wall, anger racing through her. Who would do something so demented? So cold? Who would torment her like this just to be cruel?
But if it’s a cruel prank, who is this child? And why does he look like me?
She massaged her temple. Nothing made sense.
“Oh my God.” Cami set the phone down and then stepped away. She had to call the police. They’d trace this call and find out who the sicko was who’d either sent her a fake photo, or who’d kidnapped a child who looked like her son might look right now.
Or, who’d kidnapped her actual son.
Do not call the police or you’ll regret it. And others will too. Innocents.
Innocents? Like the child sitting alone in a barred room with nothing but water and a bedpan? Another shiver made her draw up her shoulders.
If a child had been kidnapped, it would be all over the news. He was a beautiful young boy with parents who, if not as affluent as her family had once been, were well-to-do. Cami ran to her room and grabbed her laptop and then sat down on the couch, placed it on the coffee table, and entered her passcode.
She did a Google search for local San Diego news stations and then quickly scrolled through that day’s headlines. Nothing about an abducted child. She used the search bar to look up any stories that might have the words kidnapped or abducted in the headlines. There were a few, but nothing recent. Cami clicked on a story from a couple of months before, but when she skimmed the article, she saw that the little girl who’d gone missing from her yard had been found later that day. Something about a parental rights dispute.