The sound of his given name was enough to startle him into paying attention. He turned to see Miss Wetherby, one hand stretched out to him as if she wanted to grab him and stop him from what he was doing.
“The doll,” she said.
He frowned. “What doll?”
“Exactly. Emma was playing with a doll. The doll is gone now. That means that wherever she is, she took it with her.”
“So?”
Miss Wetherby took a deep breath. “So, if she had been snatched, she probably would have dropped it,” she said. “A kidnapper wouldn’t have allowed her to bring a toy—at least, it doesn’t strike me as very likely that he would. I think it’s more likely that she simply picked up the doll and decided to go play somewhere else. Which means we need to think about where she might like to go to play. You know her best. Does she have any favorite places other than her room? Anywhere she might choose to spend her time?”
Reeves hesitated for a moment.
Then it came to him. He burst out the door again and ran down the stairs. Once more, Miss Wetherby followed.
He didn’t pause to grab a cloak before running out the front door, even though the air was cold. He barely felt it. The only thing that mattered was getting to Emma as quickly as possible. He knew he wouldn’t rest until she was in his arms again…
And there she was. Sitting on a flat rock under the willow tree, the place she had always come to play. The doll lay on the rock beside her, but she was doing something else. As Reeves drew closer, he saw that she had a pen and a piece of paper in her hand, and she was working on a drawing.
“Don’t startle her,” Miss Wetherby murmured.
Reeves hadn’t realized that she had kept pace with him.
He nodded and approached slowly. “Emma?”
Hehadstartled her. Her head jerked up like a prey animal’s, and Reeves felt sick. The last thing in the world he wanted was to frighten his daughter.
But she relaxed when she saw who was approaching her. She climbed off the rock and came over to meet them.
“It’s too cold to play outside,” Reeves murmured, wrapping an arm around her, feeling something inside him shatter at having her back in his arms. He prided himself on his strength, but this little girl was his undoing. She had the power to destroy him. “And you need to tell someone where you’re going, Emma. You can’t just go out of the house like this and not let anybody know.”
He’d done his best to keep his words gentle, but Emma’s eyes filled with tears all the same.
Reeves felt utterly helpless. He looked over at Miss Wetherby for guidance. All he wanted was for his daughter to stop crying. It didn’t matter what he had to do to make that happen. He’d do it. He would give full authority to Miss Wetherby if she had the answer right now.
Despite the cold and the dirt, she dropped to her knees in front of Emma. “Do you want to show us your picture?” she murmured.
Emma nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. She held out the piece of paper she had been drawing on. Reeves took it.
It featured three figures. One was clearly a man, and the second was a woman. Over the man, Emma had writtenPapa, and over the woman,Briget. The misspelling relaxed Reeves slightly, somehow. It was so innocent, so childlike. It was a reminder of the carefree person his daughter had been before any of this had happened.
The third figure on the page was a child, obviously meant to be Emma herself. She stood between her father and Miss Wetherby, one hand in each of theirs.
“This is lovely,” Miss Wetherby said warmly. “Perhaps your father would like to keep it in his study.”
Emma held out her hand for the paper.
Was she saying she didn’t want him to have it? Reeves handed it back, feeling rather hurt and trying not to let that show.
She picked up her pen, scrawled a few words on the paper, and handed it back to him.
His heart broke as he read it.Please don’t be mad, Papa.
She was remembering dinner last night. Miss Wetherby had been right. Reeves had been too hard on her. He had upset her, and this was the result. He cursed himself. How could he have pressured her so much? He should have thought more about all she’d just been through. Of course, she wouldn’t be ready to talk about her experiences. Of course, she needed more time. And he had made her believe that all he cared about was getting the story out of her. What a terrible homecoming he’d given his daughter.
He knelt too, right beside Miss Wetherby, and pulled his daughter into his arms. She stood stiffly for a moment, unable to relax, but then she did. Her head came to rest on his shoulder.Reeves rested a hand on her back and closed his eyes.You’re here. You’re safe. Everything is going to be all right.
“Emma,” he said quietly, “I’m not angry with you. Of course I’m not. I’m just glad to have you home. That’s the only thing I care about.”
