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СКАЧАТЬ tailspin that brought her heart into her mouth. The controls on the instrument panel were going haywire. Trapped and terrified, Claire cried out at him to be careful, but he laughed at her. When she couldn’t reason with him, she opened the door to get out of the plane. She looked down in panic on an ocean of green sugarcane undulating in a summer breeze as the plane spiraled to the ground.

      She awoke with a start.

      To escape the nightmare, she wanted to spring out of bed, but her body felt heavy, weighted down by fear coursing through paralyzed limbs. Even her mind functioned sluggishly. She studied her surroundings in growing confusion. Where was she? The bedroom in her Houston condo had no floral wallpaper, no slowly revolving ceiling fan. Her bed had no tall cherry-wood foot posts.

      And then she remembered. She was at Sugarland. Of course. With the McMolleres.

      She rose on one elbow and rubbed a hand over her face. It had been such a long night. For hours her mind had been in turmoil. No relaxation techniques had worked. The last time she’d looked at the clock, it had been after four. It was now only a few minutes before six.

      Slipping out of bed, she pulled on a robe and headed for the bathroom, which lay between the large guest suite Wyona had placed her in and a smaller bedroom the right size for a child. Unsurprisingly, considering the bizarre day he’d had, Danny had not been eager to stay in his room alone. It had been Michelle who’d persuaded him. Angry, hurting, rebellious Michelle. Claire wasn’t sure what the girl had promised him, but whatever it was, Danny had finally settled down. Claire had been grateful. Once again, she’d found herself wondering what was wrong between Michelle and Mack. Almost instinctively she wanted to reach out to the teenager, but she reminded herself that Michelle’s problems weren’t her concern. She couldn’t afford to get embroiled in this family’s affairs. Claire was here only because of the threat to Danny. Her son—not Mack’s troubled daughter—was the one who mattered right now.

      In the bathroom, she realized that the sound of the small plane had not let up. Through the window, she watched the craft swoop low, spewing out a cloud of pesticide, the fuselage almost brushing the tops of the waving sugarcane. Barely dawn and a pilot was already crop-dusting. She rubbed her forehead, groaning at the early hours that farmers kept. Still, Danny would be interested, she thought, making a mental note to ask Mack to tell him about growing and processing sugar before it appeared on the table in tiny white granules to sweeten his cereal.

      She went to check on him and found his bed empty. For a second, she stared around blankly. His pajamas were discarded beside a chair and his sneakers were gone. How could he have left without her hearing a sound? Her heart stumbled, but she told herself not to panic. Drawing the belt tight on her robe, she hurried into the hall. The house was eerily silent in the way houses are before their occupants rise. There was no sign of Danny or anybody else.

      Fighting panic, she went to the banister of the winding staircase and leaned over it. “Danny,” she called, trying to keep her voice under control. “Danny, where are you?”

      No answer. She whirled, about to go back to her room and get dressed. She could hardly search the place in her nightgown and robe. Behind her a door opened.

      “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Wyona McMollere came out of a bedroom, her fair hair frizzed around her head and her eyeglasses cocked as though she’d donned them in a hurry.

      “I’m looking for my son, Mrs. McMollere,” Claire said. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

      “At this hour?” the woman asked, glancing around as though expecting Danny to materialize out of nowhere. “Where is he?”

      “I don’t know.” In a nervous gesture, Claire caught up her long hair as she tried to think. “He’s not in his room and his sneakers are gone.”

      Angus McMollere shuffled up behind Wyona, leaning on his cane. “What’s all the ruckus?” he demanded, his scowl directed at Claire.

      “My son isn’t in his room,” Claire said. “I need to find him.”

      “I’m sure he’s fine,” Wyona said.

      “Of course, he’s fine,” Angus snapped. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

      “Then where is he?” Claire cried, her heart starting to pound in panic. “It’s not even six o’clock in the morning!”

      “Hear now, girl,” Angus said, shuffling toward her with his cane. “Just hold on. He’s around somewhere. Let’s see what Mack thinks.”

      “Danny knows not to go anywhere with strangers,” Claire said.

      “What strangers would you be referring to?” Angus demanded, his frown fierce. “There’re no strangers in this house, at least none who’d lure off a five-year-old.”

      “Everyone here is a stranger to Danny,” she said tightly, anxiety making her blunt.

      “And who’s fault is that!” Angus retorted with a thump of his cane.

      “Maybe he’s just exploring the house,” Wyona offered helpfully. “Little boys are like that.”

      “Danny wouldn’t explore anything without asking me first.”

      “He’s a McMollere,” Angus argued. “They don’t always do what their mamas say.”

      Disobedience was hardly something to be proud of, Claire thought with disgust. Before she said something she would regret, she turned to go, then halted at the sound of someone entering the front door downstairs. Wyona released a small relieved sigh. “Oh, oh, thank goodness, Mack’s here.”

      Mack? He wasn’t in his bedroom sleeping?

      All eyes were on him as he came up the curved staircase. His gaze went first to Claire. “What’s wrong?”

      “Have you seen Danny?”

      “Danny?” His blank look said everything.

      “He’s gone!”

      Wyona touched Angus’s arm. “Maybe Michelle—”

      Mack walked over to them, frowning. “Gone where? What’s going on here?”

      “He’s not in his bed,” Claire said. “I checked on him a few minutes ago. He’s not in the house. I should have let him sleep with me. He wanted to, but I thought—”

      “Hey, take it easy.” Mack caught her hand and stopped her, gave it a little squeeze. “Wherever he is, he’s fine. He’s around somewhere. This is a big house.”

      She pulled her hand away. “He’s not in the house. He would have heard me calling and said something.”

      “Maybe the crop duster woke him up,” Mack suggested. “He probably snuck out to investigate.”

      “Not without asking me,” she repeated stubbornly.

      “Well, he sure can’t have been kidnapped right under our noses, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Mack observed.

      “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Claire said curtly, wrapping her arms around her waist. “With everything that happened СКАЧАТЬ