“Sounds good.”
That’s when Clancy’s brain nudged him, telling him to pay attention to something that had just been said—not by Chip, but by someone on the news. He looked up to see a Massachusetts congressman by the name of Richard Wahlman in tears on live TV, talking about his kidnapped daughter. Clancy turned up the volume.
“My heartbreak is that I only just met her. Tragically, her mother was killed by a drunk driver, and that’s when I learned she left a child behind. DNA testing shows she’s mine. And now I have lost her before I had a chance to show her how much I love her.”
“Oh, crap!” Chip started for the door. “I forgot about that alert!”
“All I ask is that if anyone, anywhere, has seen Evelyn McGuinness with my precious and innocent daughter, please contact the FBI immediately.”
“Uh, Chief?”
Clancy held his palm toward Chip. “I gotta hear this. Hold on just a second.”
The news host laid it on thick. “First let me say that we are keeping you and Christina in our thoughts and prayers and hope the suspect is found soon.”
“Thank you.” The politician touched his wife’s leg as if asking for support.
“I know this is an indelicate question, Congressman, and forgive me, Mrs. Wahlman, but do you worry about how this will affect your reelection bid? Your opponent has been trailing significantly in the polls, but with this kind of shocking revelation about your sexual relationship with a—”
“I’d prefer not to talk about my campaign right now and instead focus on finding my daughter.”
The congressman’s wife grabbed his hand with both of hers and broke the awkward silence. “As you know, Richard has recently undergone open-heart surgery. Finding out he had a daughter and then having that child abducted . . . well, that would be extremely difficult for anyone, let alone someone who has charged back from the brink of death.”
“So you are abandoning your reelection plans?”
“I didn’t say that,” Richard snapped. “I said I’m not here this morning to talk about politics. I’m here because my little girl has been taken across state lines by someone with absolutely no right to do so. I want her home safely.”
“But your campaign . . .”
“That’s it. I’m done.” The congressman tore off his mic and left the set, his wife following behind.
Clancy turned off the TV, heavy dread already lodged in the pit of his stomach. He had a bad feeling—nauseatingly bad.
“You need to see this!”
Clancy had known Chip a long time, and he was a reliable sort. When Chip’s voice got squeaky, it meant something really important was going on, and his voice just went up a full octave.
“This FBI alert came in about twenty minutes ago, specifically for Nantucket, the Vineyard, and Bayberry. I can’t remember the last time we’ve been included in one of these.”
Clancy knew what was coming.
“The congressman’s kid! The child-custody BOLO out of Maine. They think she might be here!” Chip handed him a printout.
Before he read the first word, it was obvious. Maine. Child. Secrets. Lies.
Evie’s a kidnapper.
His eyes raced over the alert, immediately drawn to the photos. First, there was the suspect, with those pale green eyes, lovely lips, and the soft brown hair. Evelyn H. McGuinness, age thirty-two, of Bridgton, Maine was described as Caucasian, five foot nine, one hundred twenty-eight pounds, no identifying tattoos or scars. They’d used a post-race photo from the New York Marathon for identification, both a close-up of her face and a full-body shot. She looked exhausted but triumphant in that picture. And she wore the exact same model of running shoe he’d seen on “Cricket.”