Tony nodded. “Roach contacted the FBI. They’ve taken the envelopes and will call as soon as they know anything. The fact that they’re different worries me more than if they were the same.”

Claire glanced at Nichol who appeared unfazed as she stared out the window, her little eyelids growing heavy as she struggled to watch all the sights just beyond her reach. “How could anyone know where we were?” With the light from the street and line of lights within, Claire saw Tony’s jaw clench and unclench.

“I don’t know,” her husband replied. “That isn’t all. There was another one, addressed to you, waiting at the restaurant.”

Claire’s stomach fell. “The restaurant? Where we just ate? It was waiting for me?”

Tony reached for her hand. “I’m not trying to scare you, but this is serious.”

“I agree. What did they say?”

“We don’t know. The FBI told us not to open anything. Once they do, we’ll know more.”

“Tony…” Claire peered down at Nichol, who, despite the chaos around her, had fallen asleep with her forehead against the window. “…I’m scared.”

He scooted near and pulled her closer. “I’d feel better if we were home. I have a few early meetings, but then we’re heading back to Iowa.”

Claire nodded. “I promised Nichol one more trip to FAO Schwarz and American Girl. We’ll do that first thing in the morning and then we’ll be ready to go when you’re done.” Noticing his expression, she added, “Don’t worry. We’ll have Phil and Taylor with us the entire time.”

When they arrived back to their building, Phil went up ahead to the apartment. Tony carried Nichol, Claire carried Sophie, and Taylor led the procession with Eric following closely behind. Once their apartment was declared safe, the Rawlingses were cleared to enter.

Dropping Sophie on the sofa, Claire sighed. “I know she won’t remember all of this, but this wasn’t how I envisioned Nichol’s first trip to New York.”

Tony laid their daughter on the sofa and undid her coat. “Look at her. She’s blissfully unaware.”

Claire smoothed Nichol’s hair away from her face. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened—” Tears threatened her painted lids.

“Stop,” Tony interrupted, as his strong arms surrounded Claire. “Nothing will happen. We’ll be home tomorrow.”

Claire nodded against his Armani suit jacket and gained strength with each beat of his heart.

“Let’s get Nichol into her bed. It’s been a long day.”

“All right,” Claire replied. Her eyes widened as Tony picked up Nichol. “When do you expect to hear from the FBI?”

“Hopefully tomorrow.” He started walking toward the front stairs.

“Oh, don’t forget Sophie!” Claire said, as she picked up the doll. “You have no idea how traumatic it was when she went missing. We don’t want Nichol waking in the middle of the night and not being able to find her.”

EARLY THE NEXT morning, Claire and Tony woke to the thunder of running feet as their daughter launched herself onto their bed. “Momma, Daddy, I want to go to the doll store!”

Claire looked toward the red numbers on the bedside stand. “Honey, it’s not even 6:00 AM. Look out the windows. It’s still dark. Maybe you should go back—”

Her little forehead wrinkled. “Why? You said in the morning. It’s morning.”

“Honey, the store doesn’t open—”

Not waiting for her mother to finish, Nichol asked, “When does it open?”

Claire was about to complete her suggestion that Nichol go back to sleep when Tony pulled himself up to a sitting position and tucked Nichol under his arm. “Come here, princess, let’s look at what time the store opens.”

As Tony turned on his phone, Claire shook her head. “I think that could wait until after—”

“Nichol? Where’s Sophie?” Tony asked, interrupting Claire.

“Right here,” she said, as she produced the doll from the foot of the bed.

“Oh, my. She’s still wearing her dress from last night!” Tony said.

Nichol’s eyes widened. “She is!”

“Doesn’t she have a nightgown?”

“She does.” Nichol climbed down from the big bed. “I’ll go get her jammies.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Since when are you concerned about her doll’s clothing?”

Instead of answering, Tony handed Claire his phone. It was open to a text message:

“MR. RAWLINGS. ALL THREE ENVELOPES AND CARDS TESTED CLEAR. THE MESSAGES WERE AS FOLLOWS: THE CARD FROM THE RESTAURANT, ADDRESSED TO MRS. RAWLINGS: ‘THIS IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR ME TO SAVE YOU. SO MANY PEOPLE IN THE CITY. SOON I WILL BE ABLE TO HELP YOU.’”

“CARD FROM THEATER, ADDRESSED TO MRS. RAWLINGS: ‘I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU CAN’T RESPOND, BUT TOMORROW. YOU WILL BE FREE TOMORROW.’”

“CARD FROM THEATER, ADDRESSED TO NICHOL RAWLINGS: ‘SOON YOU TOO WILL BE FREE.’”

Claire read the text a second time. “What is it supposed to mean? I don’t understand.”

“I’ll cancel my meetings. We’ll leave right away.”

Claire shook her head. “If we do that, this person wins. I almost felt better about the Rawls-Nichols mailings. At least they were consistent.”