After pressing her cheek to his shoulder, she frowned. “I tore my sweater. And it’s dirty, too.”

“It doesn’t matter.” To soothe both of them he ran his hand up and down her back. “I didn’t want to wake you up, but since you’re awake now, why don’t I help you get a bath, get some clean clothes?”

“Daddy!” Genuinely horrified, she pushed back from him. “You can’t help me take a bath! I’m a girl, and you’re not. And I like showers now.”

So normal, he thought, and found his throat clogged with tears. So completely normal. “How could I have forgotten? Tell you what, I’ll go check if your mom’s awake. She was so scared and worried, I finally made her take a pill to sleep. She’s going to be so happy to see you.”

“Look at this!” Lily, a cashmere robe over tailored pajamas, beamed from the doorway before she went in to gather Cate in a hug. “Wide awake, are you, sweets?”

“And too big for baths and my help.”

Lily arched those bold red eyebrows. “I would say so. I was just coming in to spell you for a bit, Aidan. Let me and our girl deal with our girl things.”

“I ruined my sweater, G-Lil.”

Since Cate still wore it, Lily trailed a finger down the tear. “I call that a badge of honor. Come on, sweets, let’s get you cleaned up.” Again, she arched her eyebrows at Aidan, put a little exaggeration on southern lady. “You will excuse us, sir.”

“I’ve been dismissed.”

He gave Cate a big grin that fell away once he left the room. Would his little girl wake with nightmares now, and cling to him shaking from them?

How much of her childhood innocence had those bastards cost his baby? And how much deeper than the cuts and bruises did the wounds go?

He stepped into his own bedroom, found Charlotte still sleeping. He’d pulled the curtains over the windows himself so the rise of the sun wouldn’t wake her, and found himself relieved she’d taken the pill, still slept.

When she woke, Cate would be showered, dressed. Here. They could celebrate that, hold that, before they talked about what to do next. A private detective if the police didn’t find the kidnappers quickly? A therapist for Cate—for all of them, he corrected as he walked quietly into the bath for his own shower.

A reevaluation on security at their home, at Cate’s school, whenever they traveled.

He felt sick and sorry they’d have to let Nina go. He didn’t believe, not for an instant, she’d been careless, deserved blame. But Charlotte wouldn’t rest easy until she was let go.

As he showered, as he let the pulse of hot water pummel the worst of his fatigue away, he considered the new project he’d signed onto.

The location shoot in Louisiana, in just two weeks.

Should he back out of the film? Should he pull Cate out of school, take her and the tutor with him?

Should he simply clean his plate, stay home, until he could feel certain Cate was safe, stable?

When in uncharted territory, he thought, take one careful step at a time.

He dressed in jeans and a sweater before he slipped back into the bedroom. No romantic long weekend in Cabo, he thought. Not now. No quick getaway without their daughter right there with them.

Charlotte would say exactly the same.

He left her sleeping, quietly closed the door behind him.

It lifted his heart to hear a quick giggle behind Cate’s bedroom door, and the quick rumble of an answering laugh from his stepmother. Thank God for Lily, he thought, as he went downstairs.

Thank God for family.

Even thinking it, it surprised him to see his father out on the back terrace, drinking coffee, studying the hills. Aidan poured a cup for himself, went out.

The breeze, whipping through the chaparral, the redwoods and pines, brought the scent of both hills and sea. Snow iced the tops of the mountains, and morning fog crept along the ground below.

“A little cold out here yet, Dad.”

“I needed the air. I sometimes forget to appreciate the mountain view. Cate?”

“Lily’s with her. She woke up scared, but . . . resilience.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Some. You?”

“Some.”

“Dad, I want to thank you for what you were prepared to do. It’s not just the money, but—”

“You should know better than to thank me.”

“That it’ll irritate you. Yeah.” The smile didn’t come so hard this time. “But I have to anyway. Just like I have to say I love you, Dad.”

“That doesn’t irritate me.” Hugh clamped a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for family. You’re the same.”

“I’m trying to figure out now what the best thing to do for family is. I’m supposed to leave for New Orleans in two weeks to start on Quiet Death. Even if I brought Cate and Charlotte with me—or Charlotte for part of it, as she’s got Sizzle shooting in L.A. next month—the long hours . . . I’m thinking of backing out.”

“Ah, Aidan, I hate to see you give up that role. It’s a gem. I know why you’re considering it, I just hate it. All of this. You know Lily and I would keep Catey with us while you’re on location.”

“I don’t think I can go without her, not now.”

No, he thought, he knew he couldn’t go without her. As much for himself as for his daughter.

“Charlotte worked so hard to land Sizzle,” he continued. “I can’t ask her to give it up and base in New Orleans while I shoot.”

Hugh stared up at the peaks, at the way the clouds hovered over them as if they’d drop and smother them.

“You’re right. I’d do the same in your place.”

“I’m thinking of taking six months off, maybe a year. I could take Cate to Ireland, help Nan settle in. They’d both love that.”

Though it hurt his heart, Hugh nodded. His mother, his son, his precious granddaughter, an ocean away. “That might be best.”

“I want to hire a private detective if the police don’t find these bastards, find them quick. I could offer a reward.”

Hugh turned to his son. He hadn’t shaved, and more gray than black grizzled his chin and cheeks. “There our thoughts align.”

“Good. Then I’m on the right track. And I want a good family therapist. Resilient or not, I think Cate needs to talk to someone. All three of us do.”

Aidan looked at his watch. “The police will be here soon, and that’s the next step. I need to wake Charlotte.” When he turned, he saw Cate at the breakfast counter, her ankles hooked together as she watched Nina sift flour into a bowl.

“Take a look,” he told his father.

“Squeezes my heart,” Hugh murmured. “In the best way.”

Hugh walked to the door, opened it, walked in with Aidan.

“Here’s my girl.”

He stepped over to kiss the top of her head, sent a grateful look at Lily, who leaned against the big fridge with her own cup of coffee.

She’d pulled Cate’s now shiny fall of hair into a high, bouncing ponytail, helped her pick out jeans with flowers on the pockets, and a bright blue sweater.

She would have looked like any pretty ten-year-old girl, except for the bruise on her temple, the dark circles under her eyes.