Vanish

“She’s fine right where she is.”

“If you don’t let me pick her up, she’ll start screaming. And she knows how to scream.”

“Mila?” Lukas was rapping on the bathroom door now. “Unlock this, will you? Mila!”

Regina, as predicted, began to howl. Jane looked at the man, and he finally gave a nod. She gathered the baby into her arms, but her embrace seemed to hold no comfort for Regina. She can feel my heart pounding. She can feel my fear.

There was banging in the hallway, then a crash as Lukas broke through the door. Seconds later he came ru

“What?”

“The bathroom window’s open. She must have crawled out.”

The blond man reacted with a mere shrug. “Then we’ll find her another day. The video is what he really wants.”

“We have it.”

“You’re sure it’s the last copy?”

“It’s the last.”

Jane stared at Lukas. “You already knew about the videotape.”

“Do you have any idea how much unsolicited junk a reporter gets in the mail?” said Lukas. “How many conspiracy theorists and paranoid nuts there are out there, desperate for the public to believe them? I wrote that one column about Ballentree, and suddenly I’m the new best friend for all the Joseph Rokes in this country. All the weirdos. They think if they tell me about their little delusions, I’ll take the story from there. I’ll be their Woodward and Bernstein.”

“That’s how it should work. That’s what journalists are supposed to do.”

“You know any rich reporters? Once you get past the rare superstars, how many names do you remember? The reality is, the public doesn’t give a shit about the truth. Oh, maybe there’d be a flutter of interest for a few weeks. A few front-page stories above the fold. Director of National Intelligence charged with murder. The White House would express the appropriate amount of horror, Carleton Wy

“That video Joe sent you. You did receive it.”

“Almost threw it away, too. Then I thought, what the hell, let’s see what’s on it. I recognized Carleton Wy

“He was actually willing to deal with you?”

“Wouldn’t you be? Knowing what this tape could do to you? Knowing there are other copies floating around out there?”

“Do you really think Wy

The blond man cut in: “I’ll need a shovel.”

But Lukas was still looking at Jane. “I’m not stupid,” he said. “And Wy

“The shovel?” the blond man repeated.

“There’s one in the garage,” said Lukas.

“Get it for me.”

As Lukas walked toward the garage, Jane called out: “You’re a moron if you think you’re going to live long enough to enjoy any payoff.” Regina had fallen silent in her arms, stilled by her mother’s rage. “You’ve seen how these people play the game. You know how Charles Desmond died. They’re going to find you in your bathtub with your wrists slit. Or they’ll force a bottle of phenobarb tablets down your throat and dump you in the bay, like they did to Olena. Or maybe this guy will just put a bullet in your head, nice and simple.”

Lukas came back into the house, carrying a spade. He handed it to the blond man.

“How deep do those woods go, in back of the house?” the man asked.

“It’s part of Blue Hills Reservation. They go back at least a mile.”

“We’ll need to walk her in far enough.”

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with that. That’s what he pays you for.”

“Then you’ll have to take care of her car.”

“Wait.” Lukas reached behind the couch and came up holding the diaper bag. He handed it to the other man. “I don’t want any trace of her in my house.”

Give it to me, thought Jane. Give me my goddamn bag.

Instead, the blond man slung it over his shoulder and said: “Let’s take a walk in the woods, Detective.”

Jane turned to give Lukas her parting shot. “You’ll get yours. You’re a dead man.”

Outside, a half-moon glowed in a starry sky. Holding Regina, Jane stumbled through underbrush and saplings, her path faintly lit by the beam of the gunman’s flashlight. He was careful to follow at a distance, giving her no chance to strike out at him. She could not have, in any event, not with Regina in her arms. Regina, who had known only a few short weeks of life.

“My baby can’t hurt you,” Jane said. “She’s not even a month old.”

The man said nothing. The only sound was their footfalls in the woods. The snap of twigs, the rustle of leaves. So much noise, but no one was around to listen. If a woman falls in the forest, but no one hears her…

“You could just take her,” said Jane. “Leave her where someone will find her.”

“She’s not my problem.”

“She’s just a baby!” Jane’s voice suddenly broke. She paused there among the trees, clutching her daughter to her chest as tears flooded her throat. Regina gave a soft coo, as though to comfort her, and Jane pressed her face to her daughter’s head and inhaled the sweetness of her hair, felt the heat of her velvety cheeks. How could I bring you into this? she thought. There is no worse mistake a mother can make. And now you’ll die with me.

“Keep walking,” he said.

I’ve fought back before and survived, she thought. I can do it again. I have to do it again, for you.

“Or do you just want me to finish it here?” he said.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of trees and damp leaves. She thought of the human remains she had examined in Stony Brook Reservation a summer ago. How vines had snaked through the orbital fossae, hugging the skull in greedy tendrils. How the hands and feet were missing, gnawed off and carried away by scavengers. She felt her own pulse, bounding in her fingers, and thought of how small and fragile were the bones in a human hand. How easily they are scattered across a forest floor.

She began to walk again, deeper into the woods. Keep your head, she thought. Panic, and you lose all chance to surprise him. All chance to save Regina. Her senses sharpened. She could feel the blood pumping through her calves, could almost feel every molecule of air that brushed against her face. You only come alive, she thought, just as you’re about to die.

“I think this is far enough,” the man said.

They were standing in a small clearing. Trees encircled them, a dark ring of silent witnesses. The stars were cold glitters. None of this will change when I’m gone, she thought. The stars don’t care. The trees don’t care.

He threw the shovel at her feet. “Start digging.”

“What about my baby?”

“Put her down and start digging.”

“The ground’s so hard.”

“Like that matters now?” He tossed the diaper bag at her feet. “Let her lie down on that.”

Jane knelt, her heart now thumping so wildly she thought it would slam through her ribs. I have one chance, she thought. Reach in the bag, grab the weapon. Turn and squeeze off the round before he knows what’s happening. No mercy, just blow out his brains.

“Poor baby,” she murmured as she crouched over the bag. As she quietly slipped her hand inside. “Mommy has to put you down now…” Her hand brushed across her wallet, a baby bottle, diapers. My gun. Where is my goddamn gun?