The Toddler's Tale. Rebecca Winters

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      “You’ve got it. In fact as soon as we hang up, I’ll alert the necessary staff. Ford Carrington is one of the best pediatricians around. If the child requires surgery, then she’ll be in good hands. What else can I do for you?”

      “Traci ought to be seen by a doctor, too.”

      “You can count on Abby to give her a thorough physical.”

      “Good. Traci’s been a hostage in her own home for a couple of years and I’m thinking maybe psychiatric counseling wouldn’t go amiss, if she’s willing.”

      “If anyone can convince her to seek professional help, Abby’s the one to do it. She’ll also know which specialist to refer her to in case there’s a serious problem beyond her expertise as an OB. Anything else?”

      “Can you arrange for Traci to be in the same room with her daughter?”

      “Of course. And we’ll up the security. We’re getting used to it.”

      Max closed his eyes. “Thanks, Michael.”

      “You’ve done more for me, so forget it.”

      “That’s not possible. Anyway, I’ve got to go. But first, tell me what’s happening with Jake and Connor?”

      “Jake’s spending a little private time with Camille.”

      “It’s long overdue.” As an FBI agent, Jake Maitland had guarded Camille for the past six months, and finally the two had acknowledged their love.

      “That’s for sure. As soon as he’s free, I’ll contact Connor, and the three of us will put our heads together to figure out a plan to find Janelle and that creep who’s been posing as Connor.”

      “What’s the FBI’s take on things right now?”

      “Nothing we know about yet. But we’re not waiting on them.”

      “I hear you.”

      “It’s not your worry, either. You’ve got enough on your plate. Just keep me posted. When you arrive in the helicopter, I’ll be waiting for you. Then I can fill you in, and we’ll go from there.”

      “Sounds good. You’re one in a million, Michael.”

      “The feeling’s mutual. Good luck. And, Max—”

      “Yes?”

      “I know you’ll get to the little girl in time. I feel it in my bones.”

      “I pray to God you’re right.”

      “I’ll pray, too.”

      “Thanks, bud.”

      Max clicked off.

      Everything was in place. All they needed now was a miracle.

      He handed Officer Keaton the cell phone, then left for the site on a run, pleased to see that the other officers had sealed off the house and the excavation site. Any onlookers or press would have to stand outside the tape, which would keep them a good ten feet from the edge of the pit.

      “CHELSEA?”

      At the sound of Max’s low, vibrant voice she let out a soft gasp and jerked her head in his direction. The darkness created an intimacy in which she could imagine they were the only two people for miles around.

      “Things are under control. The officers at the house know the truth. They’ll do their part to protect Traci. One of them will get hold of the realtor and go for supplies. Is Betsy still making noises?”

      “Yes. She just started crying again.”

      “What did you tell the police captain?”

      You mean the one who can’t stand me? She sucked in her breath. “Exactly what you told me to say. When it came to giving him names, I played dumb. If he asks, you can make up whatever you like,” she added in a quiet voice.

      “Good girl.”

      Those two unexpected words caused warmth to flood her system.

      Perhaps Max didn’t realize what he’d just done, but this was the first time since she’d known him that he’d said something kind to her without hesitation or any hint of censure. Almost as if they were partners. It was a moment to cherish.

      Don’t count on there being another one, Chelsea.

      His eyes were still searching hers when one of the firefighters walked up to them.

      “Hey, Jamison—long time no see.”

      “That’s the truth.” The two men shook hands. “Since I arrived on the scene first, I want to help.” The blood was pounding in Max’s ears. “I have to get that little girl out. You know what I mean?”

      The two men eyed each other while a stream of unspoken words passed between them. Brent had been one of the firefighters at the scene when the child who’d lost his life in the laundry chute had been pronounced dead.

      “Sure. I’ll inform the guys. Grab the equipment you need off the utility truck when it gets here.”

      “Thanks. I’ll owe you big-time for this.”

      “It’s okay,” Brent said in a subdued voice, and patted Max’s shoulder. “No one walked away from that other case unaffected. This time the outcome’s going to be different.”

      That’s what Michael had said. Max was starting to believe it. Realizing introductions were in order, he said, “Chelsea, meet Commander Brent Lewis, the battalion chief. In the past we’ve been on the scene of many a case together. Brent, this is Ms. Markum of ‘Tattle Today TV.’”

      The other man broke into a wide smile. “I’ve seen your show plenty of times. You’re the best at what you do.”

      “Thank you.” Chelsea supposed his comment could have been taken several ways, but she was too worried about Betsy to analyze the remark.

      “Commander, I know it’s not that cold for us, but is there any way to keep the baby warm while you’re trying to get her out?”

      “Yes. I’ve already sent for the utility truck. We’ll have floodlights, and fans to blow warm air through the pipe.”

      She put a hand to her throat. “Thank goodness she won’t have to shiver down there much longer. Do you think I could fit inside the pipe since I’m smaller than the men? Maybe I could reach her.”

      “No. It’s only a twelve incher. If we can’t make her crawl out, then we’ll have to free the blocked end so we can lift the pipe enough for her to slide out. That means getting a backhoe out here to unearth it. If that fails, we’ll have to cut the pipe.”

      Chelsea shuddered. “Will you have to use one of those torches?”

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