Ethan had not seen Sophie's passport in months.

It was supposed to be locked in a safe in his study.

The safe showed no sign of forced entry.

"Who knew the code?" Maya asked.

"Me."

"Anyone else?"

Ethan thought of Vanessa standing behind him one evening while he put away jewelry after a charity gala.

"Maybe Vanessa."

Daniel Mercer refused to answer questions without a lawyer.

But he had more than Sophie's passport.

Inside his carry-on bag police found six thousand dollars in cash, a prepaid phone, and a printed itinerary from New York to Montreal, then to Lisbon.

No ticket for Sophie.

"Could be nothing," Maya said. "Could be preparation."

"Preparation for what?"

"That's what we need to prove."

Ethan hated that word.

Prove.

He had seen enough to know his daughter had been terrorized. But knowing and proving were two different things.

That afternoon he picked Sophie up from the therapist's house.

She ran to him, but stopped halfway.

"Is Vanessa mad?"

"Vanessa isn't coming home."

"Ever?"

"Not while I'm here."

Sophie stared at the floor.

"What?" Ethan asked.

"She said you would pick her."

He crouched.

"I pick you. Every time."

Sophie looked at him for a long moment as if testing whether adults could be trusted to mean what they said.

Then she hugged him.

At home, Ethan had the dog bowls removed from the kitchen. He hated even seeing stainless steel.

That night he made grilled cheese badly and burned one side.

Sophie took a bite and smiled for the first time in days.

"It's crunchy."

"That's a polite way to say I ruined it."

She giggled.

The sound nearly broke him.

After dinner, she brought him a picture she'd drawn.

Three people stood in front of a blue house.

Ethan. Sophie. And a woman with yellow hair.

"Who's that?"

"Mommy."

Sophie's mother, Claire, had died when Sophie was two.

Ethan swallowed.

"That's beautiful."

Sophie pointed to a black square under the house.

"That's the room."

He looked closer.

There were two figures inside the square.

One small.

One tall.

"Who is that with you?"

Sophie whispered, "The man who looked like you."