"Rocco!" I cry out, not caring who turns to look.
His little head snaps up, eyes widening. "Mommy!"
The world narrows to just him as I rush across the diner, knocking into a waitress carrying plates.
I don't stop to apologize.
My baby is here, alive, safe.
I scoop him into my arms, burying my face in his neck. He's warm and solid against me.
"I missed you, Mommy," he says, his little arms tight around my neck.
"I missed you too, baby. So, so much." Tears stream down my face as I pull back to examine him.
No visible injuries.
His eyes are clear and bright. Relief washes through me.
“Are you mad? I didn’t want to go with the man, but Santa?—”
“It’s okay, baby.”
Agent Ricci rises from the booth. “Ms. Vitale, can we talk?”
I frown at her. “I don’t want?—”
“Please. I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m very concerned about what happened here and I’d like to get to the bottom of it. But I need your help.”
My arms tighten around Rocco.
Every instinct screams to grab my son and run, but I need to know what happened, who took Rocco.
So I slide into the booth, keeping Rocco firmly on my lap.
A waitress arrives and sets a plate of pancakes in front of Rocco.
“He was hungry,” Agent Ricci says. “I hope pancakes are okay. He says he has them for breakfast sometimes.”
“It’s fine. Who took my son, Agent Ricci?”
"Santa said he’d take me to see his workshop. But another man who didn’t look like an elf took me to a different place.” Rocco pours way too much syrup on his pancakes, but I don’t comment on it.
I stroke his hair, keeping my voice steady. I don’t want to be alarmed by the panic I feel. "What else happened, sweetheart?"
"The man asked me lots of questions about Daddy and Uncle Dom, but I didn’t know the answers." Rocco scrunches his face. "I told him Daddy is the best and he teaches us Italian words."
Agent Ricci leans forward. "Mrs. Vitale, we need to discuss who might have taken your son and why?—"
"I don't think it's wise for me to talk to the FBI," I say, shifting Rocco protectively on my lap. "We should go."
Agent Ricci's expression hardens slightly. "If you're in danger simply from talking to law enforcement, who has recovered your kidnapped son, then you don't live in a safe world for your children."
I meet her gaze steadily. "Don't presume to know what's best for my family.”
"Your son was just kidnapped," she counters. "How is that safe?"
“How do I know you didn’t take him? You and your kind spend a lot of time trying to manipulate us into doing your job for you.”
