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squad car pulled into the lot and a tall man in plainclothes emerged. After talking to one of the officers by the ambulance, the man approached Thomas.
    â€œI’m Detective Morgan with the Fayetteville PD. I understand you made the 911 call.”
    â€œI did,” Thomas confirmed.
    â€œMay I ask why you tried to follow the vehicle?”
    Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to help.”
    â€œOfficer Velasquez here says you saw the perpetrators.”
    â€œOnly at a distance. They looked like any couple you’d see at a shopping mall. I didn’t think anything of them at the time.”
    â€œCould you pick them out of a lineup?”
    â€œI doubt it. I might recognize the man, but not the woman.”
    The detective eyed him curiously. “What do you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    â€œI’m an attorney in D.C. Why?”
    The detective smiled wryly. “An altruistic lawyer. Not many of you in the world.”
    The comment was inane, and Thomas felt a stab of irritation. He glanced at the ambulance and saw the girl’s mother being treated for lacerations on her wrists. There was something about the incident that nagged at him. Something didn’t add up.
    â€œWhat happened here?” he asked. “There were multiple kidnappers and they acted in broad daylight. The more I think about it, the more it seems premeditated.”
    The detective crossed his arms. “I can’t answer that.”
    â€œYou’re telling me this was an ordinary crime? This is North Carolina, not Mexico City.”
    The detective’s eyes darkened. “I’m not going to say it was, and I’m not going to say it wasn’t.” He softened his tone. “Listen, if it’s any consolation, a lot of fine people will be working on this. The feds may get involved. We’ll do everything we can.”
    â€œI don’t doubt it. But will you find the girl?”
    The detective looked toward the forest, and for a moment he let his guard down. “I won’t lie to you. The statistics aren’t good.”
    Thomas took a deep breath. He felt as if someone had buried a knife in his gut. He thanked the detective and shook his hand. The hand held a card.
    â€œCall me if you think of anything else about the case. And make sure you check your e-mail often. We may have more questions for you.”
    Thomas nodded and walked back to his car, playing the words of the girl’s mother over and over in his mind: “Abby’s all I’ve got. I can’t lose her.” He tried to shake off the woman’s despair, but it wouldn’t let him go.

    He drove the rest of the way to Washington in a mental fog. The kidnapping replayed itself in his mind over and over again. If only he had seen the danger and told Abby’s mother not to take her down the path. If only he had understood the intentions of the woman with the camera and her male companion. If only he had run faster and waited until he was driving before placing the 911 call. What did the kidnappers intend to do with the girl? Would they demand a ransom, or would they do something worse?
    He reached the District a few minutes before six o’clock. He drove along the Potomac River before crossing the bridge into Georgetown. He found a parking spot in front of his home and took his duffel bag into the foyer. In the three weeks since Priya had left, he had never gotten used to the quiet of the place. He turned on a few lights, went upstairs to the bedroom, and changed clothes. After putting on slacks and a sweater, he stared at himself in the mirror and saw the dark circles under his eyes. His mother would tell him he wasn’t taking care of himself. And she would be right.
    The drive into old-town Alexandria was a blur of lights. He pulled into the driveway of his parents’ modest Tudor-style home and sat in silence. Then he walked up the front steps and stopped at