Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WHO WOULD NOT LET GO
Norah refused to release the rabbit.
Not when Gideon carried her into the heated town car.
Not when his driver, Marcus Reed, turned the vents toward the back seat.
Not even when Gideon noticed that her fingers had become so cold they barely seemed able to bend around the toy.
“St. Catherine’s,” Gideon said.
Marcus looked at him through the mirror.
“The hospital?”
“Yes.”
Norah immediately stiffened.
“No.”
It was the first word she had spoken loudly.
Gideon turned toward her.
“We need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re freezing.”
“I’m not.”
Her teeth chattered as she said it.
Gideon remembered another little girl insisting she was not tired while falling asleep against his shoulder.
The memory arrived without permission.
Juniper at four.
Purple pajamas.
Strawberry toothpaste.
Her tiny voice arguing that midnight was “not even that late.”
He forced himself back into the present.
“I believe you,” he told Norah. “But sometimes adults need doctors to tell us obvious things.”
She looked suspicious.
“Are doctors scary?”
“Some.”
Marcus glanced backward.
“Mr. Vale.”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to reassure her.”
“I’m being truthful.”
For the first time, Norah almost smiled.
Almost.
Then she looked out the window.
“Mama hates hospitals.”
Gideon noticed the wording.
Not I hate hospitals.
Mama.
“Has your mother been in one before?”
Norah nodded.
“After Daddy died.”
Gideon’s questions stopped.
He knew enough about grief to understand when curiosity became cruelty.
They reached St. Catherine’s twelve minutes later.
Christmas Eve had filled the emergency department with an odd mixture of celebration and disaster. A volunteer wearing reindeer antlers pushed a cart of stuffed animals between rooms. Somewhere, a child laughed. Somewhere else, someone sobbed behind a curtain.
The moment staff recognized Gideon Vale, everything accelerated.
He hated that.
Money turned waiting rooms into private corridors.
He had learned that when Juniper was sick.
Money could summon specialists from three countries.
It could reserve hospital floors.
It could fund experimental treatment.
It could buy every possible chance.
Except the one that mattered.
Gideon looked at Norah.
“Treat her exactly as you would any other child.”
The admitting nurse nodded.
“We will.”
A pediatrician examined Norah.
Mild hypothermia.
Dehydration.
Exhaustion.
No frostbite.
No serious injury.
“How long was she outside?” the doctor asked.
“We don’t know,” Gideon said.
Norah did.
“Since the church bells.”
The doctor crouched.
“Which bells, sweetheart?”
“The ones that went six times.”
Gideon checked his watch.
10:14 p.m.
Four hours.
His stomach tightened.
The doctor’s expression changed too.
“You were outside for four hours?”
Norah hugged the rabbit.
“Mama said stay.”
“Did your mother tell you where she was going?”
“She was going to talk to somebody.”
“Who?”
Norah’s eyes shifted toward Gideon.
He saw fear.
Not confusion.
Fear.
“Norah?”
She whispered, “I’m not supposed to say.”
The doctor looked at Gideon.
He understood.
No pressure.
A social worker arrived next.
Her name was Claire Donnelly, and she possessed the extraordinary ability to speak to Gideon without appearing impressed by either his name or his bank account.
“We contacted Chicago police,” she said. “No missing-child report matching Norah yet.”
“Her mother?”
“We’re checking hospitals and accident reports.”
Norah sat on the examination bed eating crackers.
Gideon looked at her.
“Do you know your mother’s phone number?”
She shook her head.
“Address?”
“Blue door.”
Claire smiled gently.
“Anything else about where you live?”
“Mrs. Alvarez lives downstairs.”
“What street?”
Norah concentrated.
“Something with a tree.”
“Maple? Oak? Pine?”
Her face brightened.
“Maple!”
Chicago had more Maple Streets, Drives, Courts, and Avenues than Gideon cared to discover.
Claire continued patiently.
“What’s Mama’s name?”
“Lena.”
“Lena what?”
Norah looked at her rabbit.
“Mercer.”
Claire wrote it down.
Gideon saw her pause.
“Something?”
“Maybe.”
She stepped into the hallway.
Gideon followed.
Claire opened her tablet.
“There’s a Lena Mercer at Northwestern Memorial.”
His attention sharpened.
“What happened?”
“Female, approximately thirty-two. Brought in unconscious around seven forty-five after a vehicle collision near Lower Wacker.”
“Is she conscious?”
“No.”
“Is she Norah’s mother?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
Claire looked up.
“That sounded like an order.”
Gideon caught himself.
“Sorry.”
“Better.”
He almost smiled.
“I’ll contact the hospital.”
She walked away.
Gideon returned to Norah.
She had stopped eating.
“Did you find Mama?”
Children noticed everything adults tried to hide.
“Maybe.”
Norah slid off the bed.
“Where?”
“Another hospital.”
Her face drained.
“No.”
“Norah—”
“No!”
She backed away.
The rabbit fell.
Gideon reached for it.
Norah screamed.
“DON’T TOUCH BUNNY!”
Every head in the corridor turned.
Gideon froze.
Norah snatched the rabbit from the floor and pressed it against her chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.
Her breathing became frantic.
Gideon lowered himself to one knee.
“I won’t touch him.”
“She.”
“Her.”
Norah stared.
“Her name is Clover.”
“Clover.”
Something inside the stuffed rabbit made a faint metallic sound when Norah squeezed it.
Gideon noticed.
So did Marcus.
Neither said anything.
Claire returned twenty minutes later.
Her expression told Gideon the answer before she spoke.
“Lena Mercer has a seven-year-old daughter named Eleanor.”
Norah looked up.
“That’s me.”
Gideon frowned.
“Eleanor?”
“My mama calls me Norah.”
Claire crouched.
“We found your mama, sweetheart.”
Norah’s entire body went still.
“Can I see her?”
Claire’s smile became painfully gentle.
“She’s sleeping right now.”
“Wake her up.”
“We can’t yet.”
Norah stared at her.
Then at Gideon.
Adults had probably lied to her before.
Gideon refused to.
“She’s hurt,” he said.
Norah’s chin trembled.
“Bad?”
“Yes.”
“Is she going to die?”
The question destroyed the room.
Gideon remembered asking a doctor the same thing.
Is Juniper going to die?
The doctor had not answered quickly enough.
Gideon sat beside Norah.
“I don’t know.”
Tears appeared.
“But doctors are helping her.”
“My mama always comes back.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
“No,” Gideon admitted. “I don’t.”
That honesty broke something.
Norah climbed into his arms.
She cried without sound.
Gideon held her.
Three years earlier he had promised himself never to become responsible for another small heartbeat.
Now he found himself counting hers.
After midnight, Claire arranged for Norah to remain temporarily under hospital supervision while authorities searched for relatives.
Gideon should have left.
He had a company.
A mansion.
A life.
Instead, he sat beside Norah until she fell asleep.
Her hand remained wrapped around one of his fingers.
At 1:23 a.m., Marcus appeared.
“Sir.”
Gideon looked up.
Marcus’s face was wrong.
“What?”
“I checked the park.”
“Why?”
“Because something bothered me.”
He held out his phone.
Security footage from a pharmacy facing the park.
At 6:07 p.m., Lena Mercer appeared on camera holding Norah’s hand.
She was frightened.
She kept looking behind them.
At 6:11, she crouched beside her daughter.
She handed Norah the stuffed rabbit.
Then kissed her repeatedly.
At 6:13, Lena walked away.
Norah remained on the bench.
Gideon watched.
“Keep going.”
At 6:18, Lena entered a black SUV.
Not voluntarily.
A man pushed her inside.
Gideon’s expression hardened.
“At seven forty-five she was found after a collision?”
Marcus nodded.
“Driver gone.”
“Vehicle?”
“Stolen.”
Gideon looked toward the sleeping child.
“This wasn’t an accident.”
“No.”
Marcus enlarged the video.
Before Lena was forced into the SUV, she had looked directly toward the pharmacy camera.
Then pointed deliberately toward Norah.
Toward the rabbit.
Gideon understood.
“She wanted someone to see.”
Marcus nodded.
“There’s more.”
He zoomed farther.
The man who pushed Lena into the vehicle turned for half a second.
His face appeared.
Gideon stopped breathing.
He knew him.
Everyone in Chicago business knew him.
Adrian Cross.
Chief financial officer of the Vale Group.
May you like
Gideon’s closest friend for seventeen years.
And Juniper’s godfather.
