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more than a drop. Eleanor Fielding wouldn’t be there. No one would be there.
    Will felt the enormity of the situation start to overwhelm him. The little girl had been so close to him in the bathroom. He could’ve reached out and grabbed her. He could’ve knelt down and asked her if the man was her father. He could’ve punched the guy in the face and taken her away from him.
    Vanessa said, “He’s invoked legal counsel. We can’t talk to him. What’s your plan?”
    Amanda didn’t hesitate. “We talk to his lawyer.”

CHAPTER THREE
    Joseph Allen Jenner was a fifty-two-year-old widower. His wife had passed away three years ago. Her obituary listed natural causes, though a call to a sympathetic records supervisor at Emory University hospital revealed she’d had a heart attack at the age of forty-eight. No children were mentioned. Her only survivor was listed as Joe Jenner, lawyer, philanthropist, president of the Jenner Children’s Foundation, which helped underprivileged children get access to after-school literacy programs.
    Amanda sat across from Jenner in the interrogation room of the airport precinct. The walls were a crisp white, absent the usual scuff marks, cobwebs, and dirt that Will saw in just about every police station he’d stepped foot in.
    She said, “I’m Deputy Director Amanda Wagner with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. This is my associate, Special Agent Will Trent.”
    Jenner held a bloodied rag to his mouth. His voice was muffled but clear. “I’m not required by law to say anything to you.”
    Amanda said, “You obviously know your rights, Mr. Jenner. I would expect nothing less from a tax attorney.”
    Jenner’s eyebrow went up, though that was the only indication of surprise that they’d already learned his name. He took away the rag. “In that case, I’d like some ice water, please. And some aspirin.”
    Amanda nodded toward the two-way mirror. Will guessed Vanessa Livingston was repeating the gesture to one of her minions.
    Amanda told Jenner, “You came in on American three-sixty-two this morning. You boarded the plane alone. Your partner, Ms. Fielding, boarded behind you. She was carrying a child whose boarding pass identified her as Abigail Fielding.”
    Jenner didn’t comment.
    “Ms. Fielding’s credit cards were used to purchase three tickets. One for you, one for her, and one for the little girl. It
is
Abigail, isn’t it? We don’t know what to call her.”
    Again, Jenner kept his own counsel. He looked at the table. Will guessed his teeth were aching, especially the jagged bits where they’d been cracked in two.
    Amanda asked, “Who did you hand Abigail off to, Mr. Jenner?”
    Jenner gave a chest-rattling sigh. “Deputy Director Wagner,” he began. “Surely, you’re familiar with the law. You’re not allowed to question me once I ask for a lawyer.”
    “As you are your own counsel, Mr. Jenner, I am speaking to you in the capacity of a law enforcement official to a legal representative. If you’d like for me to use more formal language, I’d be happy to oblige.”
    He stared at her, his brow furrowed. Will guessed the man was more conversant with Cayman Island tax shelters than the loopholes of criminal law. Finally, he gave a crooked grin. “Very good, Deputy Director. It’s refreshing to speak to someone on your side of the law who actually has a brain in his head.” He corrected himself. “Her head.”
    Amanda gave a tight smile. “What a wonderful compliment.”
    He laughed. “You people think you’re so smart, but what’s really going to happen here? You can only hold me for twenty-four hours. You’ve got nothing concrete with which to charge me. It’s really rather pathetic.”
    Amanda said, “Mr. Jenner, at this moment, your client—Mr. Jenner—is facing charges of child abduction, transporting a minor across state lines for the purpose of sexual activity, child trafficking, impeding a police investigation, evading arrest, resisting