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doing body condition scoring on bred cows from the north herd tomorrow, and we’ve got a shipment of hay coming in.”
    “I’ll handle the hay.” It would give Nate a chance to work his arm, shoulder, and chest muscles again.
    If his father had any reservations about giving the more physical chore to Nate, he didn’t show it. He gave a nod. “You better hit the sack, too.”
    But it was a long time before Nate was able to sleep, his mind on a woman with auburn hair and shadows in her wide, green eyes.

C HAPTER 4
     
    M egan unfastened the safety strap on Emily’s car seat and lifted her daughter out of the car, grabbing the lunch she’d packed for her. “Hold my hand, sweet pea.”
    She crossed the parking lot as quickly as Emily’s little legs would allow, her gaze searching among the cars in the parking lot, along the street, and among the trees near the little Montessori center’s entrance for any sign of the Lincoln Continental, for men she didn't know, for Donny. An unmarked police car had followed her all the way from home, but Megan still had a hard time trusting cops, apart from her brother and Julian.
    Almost a week had gone by since Donny had ambushed her, and the police had found no sign of him. They hadn’t found the Lincoln Continental either. Although Megan was under surveillance all day, she couldn’t shake the sense that something terrible was going to happen.
    Inside the preschool it was warm—and noisy.
    Christa, the head teacher, greeted them at the door and took Emily’s lunch. “Good morning, Emily! Are you ready to have a fun day?”
    Emily nodded, a shy smile on her face, her little ponytail bobbing.
    Megan signed her daughter in, helped her out of her coat, and went to hang the coat in Emily’s cubby. There was a manila envelope sitting on the shelf where the teachers put Emily’s drawings, paperwork, and the school’s monthly newsletter. She grabbed it, tucked it under her arm, and knelt down to kiss Emily good-bye.
    “Have a good day, sweet pea.” She hugged Emily close, finding it hard to let her go. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Can you be a good girl for Christa?”
    Emily nodded, smiled again.
    “She’s always a good girl, aren’t you, Emily?” Christa guided Emily through the baby gate toward the play area, turning back toward Megan. “How are you holding up?”
    Christa had been the one to take the call from the police that night. She’d locked the center down until Marc had arrived to claim Emily. Megan would always be grateful for her caution and quick action.
    Megan willed herself to smile. “I’m doing alright, I guess. It scares me to be away from her all day.”
    Christa rested her hand on Megan’s arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I promise I won’t let her out of my sight.”
    “Thank you.” Megan glanced over at Emily, who was already lost in play with a group of girls who were setting up a little tea party for a handful of very lucky stuffed animals.
    She loved the easy way Emily blended in with the other children—something Megan had never been able to do, before she’d been adopted out or after.
    She turned to go, reaching into her coat pocket for her keys. The manila envelope that she’d tucked under her arm and forgotten fell on the floor. She reached down to get it and froze, her heart thudding.
    On the front there was no postage, no date stamp, no address, just a number written with black marker: 143280.
    Her inmate number.
    Megan stared at it, children’s voices fading around her, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Very few people had had access to that number—Marc, his wife, Sophie, her parole officer and Donny. She picked the envelope up, her hands shaking as she opened it.
    Inside was a hand-written note—and photographs. The photos, taken this week, showed her outside the daycare center taking Emily home for the night, at the grocery store, walking into her own home, gassing up the car.
    Adrenaline punched through her,