Finally it was over. “I’ll just pop up and look in on Nicky,” Callie told Gabriel. “I won’t be long.”
He nodded. He was used to the routine. She checked on her son last thing every night. She hurried up the stairs to the third floor and tiptoed into Nicky’s room, so as not to wake him.
The room was empty. Callie stared disbelievingly at the sight of the two beds with the covers pulled back, the window open, and her son gone. She felt the sheets. Cold.
She flew to the adjoining rooms—first to Harry’s, then to Ethan’s. No sign of Nicky. She ran across to Tibby’s room and found her and Ethan poring over a book. “Where is Nicky?” she gasped.
“In bed, asleep,” Tibby said. “Why?”
“He’s not there. Neither of the boys are. And their beds are cold.”
“But they must be,” Tibby said, shocked. “I checked both boys at about eleven. They were sound asleep.”
Callie looked at the clock. It was now after two.
She ran back to the boys’ room and screamed “Nickyyyy!” out of the window. But there was no response. Her son had disappeared.
At the sound of her scream, Gabe hurtled up the stairs two at a time. Harry and the others followed.
“What is it?” But the cold, empty beds and Callie’s distress said it all. He peered out through the open window and found a dangling rope hanging from the roof.
Harry, who was standing beside the wardrobe, heard a faint sound. He unlocked the door and a bundle fell out. It was Jim, bound and gagged and wrapped in a quilt. Harry quickly freed him.
“They took Nicky!” Jim gasped the moment he could spit out the gag. “We was asleep and by the time I was awake I couldn’t say nuffink.” His sharp face crumpled as he looked at Callie. “I’m sorry, ma’am, real sorry. I let you down—”
Callie shook her head. She was beyond words, Gabriel saw.
“Who were they, Jim, did you get a look?”
“Two men. Foreigners. They tied up both of us, then one passed Nicky through the window to the other, and then I got shoved in the wardrobe.”
Gabe glanced at the rope. “They must have taken him across the rooftops. But why?”
Callie moaned. Gabe grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me! If they’ve taken Nicky, they must mean to keep him alive!”
She stared at him blankly. “Why?”
“I don’t know, but it would have been easier to slit both boys’ throats while they lay sleeping. They didn’t, so they want Nicky alive.”
Faint color stole back into her cheeks.
Gabe hoped to hell he was right. He turned back to Jim. “How long ago was it?”
Jim shook his head, his face scrunched with distress. “I dunno, sir.”
“Tibby checked the boys around eleven,” Ethan said. “So, sometime in the last three hours.”
“I took the dog downstairs to do his business afterward,” Tibby confessed, almost in tears. “And then Ethan came looking for me, and I left the dog shut out in the garden. If I’d only—”
“Never mind,” Gabe interrupted her. “The count, Nash, where was he staying?”
“Not sure. With the Esterhazys, I think.”
“Right, we’ll start there. Ethan, get the horses saddled. Harry, lend me a pair of riding boots.” The others hurried off to obey his orders. Gabe followed, then halted when he saw her; Callie stood huddled against the wall, frozen-looking and tragic.
Gabe couldn’t bear it. She’d married him for one reason only: because he’d sworn to protect her child. He’d failed her.
Gabe seized her hands. “I’m sorry,” he said urgently, “but I will find him, I promise you.”
