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grab quickly; she wanted to keep them separate from one another. Whatever the kidnappers wanted, it had to do with the computers. She didn't want anyone getting these bargaining chips without returning Amy.
    FRANCES KING RESPONDED CHEERFULLY to Christa's knock. "I wondered what kept you guys." She swung open the door and peered beyond Christa. "Where are they?"
    "I think they'll be here shortly. May I come in?" Christa asked.
    "Sure. Have a seat. I thought I was going to get a chance to talk to you again yesterday evening, but you high-tailed it out of here before I got Amy settled."
    Christa felt a dull, cold ache in the center of her stomach. How could she tell this woman that her beautiful daughter was in danger? But, tell her she did.
    "Where's Kirk?" Frances asked, in a near-whisper.
    "He went with the other police to look for her." Christa searched for words. "Look. They don't really want her. They want those stupid computers. I'd love to give them to them." She pointed to the three awkwardly-wrapped parcels now sitting on Frances' loveseat. "Those are the hard drives from the computers. I'm certain they'll want to trade Amy for them." She reached over and took both of Frances' hands in hers. "She'll be okay. I just know it."
    Though her back stayed straight, Christa watched Frances shrivel inside. "I can't lose her, too," she said, softly.
    Christa let go of her hands and sat back on the couch. Then there really was a son who died. What was the name Amy had said? Timmy, she thought. Suddenly, her head was pounding.
    "Are you all right, Christa?" Frances asked.
    "I will be. Those jerks hit me on the head, so I wouldn't see them when they took Amy." She leaned her head against the back of the sofa, feeling dizzy.
    Frances lifted Christa's legs onto the couch. "I'll get some ice. You're awfully pale."
    Christa started to protest, and then concluded Frances probably needed something to do. She liked this woman. She had her brother's strength of character, but none of his hard edges.
    She tried to focus on what had just happened. Was she overlooking anything that might provide a clue to the kidnapper's identity? She reached up and gingerly felt her tender scalp. It hurt the most on the left side. It could mean her assailant--Amy's kidnapper--was left-handed. And it was not as high as the crown of her head, meaning the person might not be terribly tall. She was grasping at straws and she knew it.
    Frances returned with ice that she had put in a sealed plastic bag. Christa sat up and held it to the back of her head. Whether it was the cold or the brief rest she didn't know, but she began to feel more alert.
    There was a clamor of heavy footsteps coming toward the ground floor apartments, and Frances and Christa froze.
    "I'll tell her," they heard Kirk say.
    The two women exchanged relieved half-smiles. Frances walked quickly to the door and opened it as Kirk did. "Christa already did," she said quietly.
    Kirk enveloped his sister in a bear hug, and Christa found herself wishing she were in his arms. She pushed the thought away. You self-centered witch. The woman's daughter has been kidnapped, and all you can think about is that you'd like to be in her brother's arms.
    "What do we know?" Frances asked, pulling back and motioning to Mark Hadley to come into the apartment.
    KIRK LOOKED AT CHRISTA SITTING ON THE SOFA. Amy would not have been kidnapped if Christa Heckertt hadn't come into their lives. He couldn't shake the thought. It didn't make any sense that she was in on this. It was he who had found Frances and Amy this apartment, and she certainly hadn't influenced that choice. No, that was yet another stupid move he'd made on his own.
    He guided Frances to the pair of high-backed chairs that faced the loveseat in which Christa was sitting. "We've got every cop in Iowa City alerted to the description of the car, and I gave my wallet photo of Amy to the police photo lab. Her picture will be on TV any minute, and there will be