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other possibility.
    “You called her Jess,” Adele said. “Does she go by that now?”
    Nat looked at her. “No. I just…I call her that.” He realized how familiar that sounded. Her parents didn’t shorten her name when they spoke of her.
    “I see,” Adele said. Obviously she saw everything.
    Russell cleared his throat. “I don’t know your exact relationship to my daughter, and I don’t think I want to know,” he said. “Maybe you left her high and dry and maybe you didn’t. But if you find her and can let us know, this number will get you straight through to me.” He handed Nat an embossed card.
    “I’ll find her.”
    Russell extended his hand, and there was an unspoken plea in his gaze. He was obviously too proud to voice it, but it was there, nevertheless. “Good luck to you, son.”

CHAPTER THREE
    J ESSICA DIDN’T BOTHER to follow the road around to the house. She moved through the trees, greeting each one as an old friend while she tried to decide what to do once she arrived at the mansion. She couldn’t imagine what Nat was doing there. She was afraid to hope he was looking for her.
    Her first glimpse of the house brought a rush of homesickness. Glancing up to the second floor, she picked out the darkened windows of her bedroom. Her parents wouldn’t have changed it. She and her mother had flown to Paris to choose the golden toile de Jouy fabric that draped the windows and the antique canopy bed. The bed probably had sheets on it, just in case she returned.
    Most of the time she’d felt trapped in this house, but she’d also felt incredibly safe. Safety sounded good right now.
    But if she walked into the house and accepted the protection her parents would love to give her, she’d lose all the independent ground she’d gained. And the fight wasn’t only about her now. Elizabeth deserved to grow up like a normal child instead of being followed by bodyguards wherever she went.
    Oh, but the tug of home was strong, even after all this time. They were burning oak in the fireplace. The familiar smell of the smoke made her throat ache. She could picture her mother and father, each in their favorite wingback chair, reading glasses perched on their noses as they settled downwith a favorite book. The love seat had been designated as hers, positioning her right between them.
    When she’d been small, before she’d begun feeling stifled, the love seat sandwiched between her parents’ chairs had been a good place to be. She hadn’t exactly been allowed to sprawl on that seat while she read, but they’d let her tuck her feet under her as long as she took off her shoes first.
    In those early days, at precisely nine o’clock, Barclay would arrive with refreshments—lemonade in the summer and steaming cocoa in the winter. And gingersnaps. Jessica could almost feel the crunch between her teeth.
    She wondered if Nat was sitting on the love seat at this very minute. What on earth was he saying to her parents? A horrible thought came to her. If she told Nat about Elizabeth and the stalker, he might insist that she come back here and inform her parents. If he wanted to tell them himself, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
    With Elizabeth’s freedom at stake, maybe she’d better not tell Nat too much until she was sure he wouldn’t go running to her parents with the information. She didn’t think he’d sell her out, but she couldn’t be sure. After all, he’d come here tonight.
    But she needed a plan.
    The cab Nat had arrived in sat empty in the driveway as the driver strolled around smoking a cigarette. He returned to the cab to stub it out in the ashtray, which was a good thing, she thought. Herb, the gardener, would have a fit if he found a cigarette butt lying on his velvet lawn. He had enough trouble contending with the autumn leaves, which he snatched up the minute they dropped from the trees.
    Still, she missed Herb and his persnickety ways. She missed all of the staff, even stuffy Barclay. She