“Look at me.”

He slowly looked over his shoulder.

A little seven-year-old girl, with curly red-brown hair wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt.

The same T-shirt she had worn the day she had died.

The day he might have killed her.

The agony was overwhelming, searing through him, blocking everything but the sight of her and his own guilt.

His daughter, Bonnie…

Milwaukee Airport

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

“YOU’RE JANE MACGUIRE?”

Jane turned away from the baggage claim carousel to see the woman who had spoken walking toward her. It had to be Catherine Ling, she thought. Her adoptive mother, Eve, had described the CIA agent in detail, but the reality was even more stunning. Catherine Ling was part Asian, part Caucasian, and more exotic and magnetic than any woman Jane had seen except on the movie screen. She appeared be in her late twenties, tall, graceful, with high cheekbones, huge dark eyes slightly tilted at the corners, olive-gold skin, long dark hair pulled back in a chignon. But it was the aura of power and vitality that surrounded her that was the most impressive. As an artist, Jane’s first impulse was to ask her to pose for her. The second was to squeeze every bit of information she could from her. “I’m Jane. You’re Catherine Ling? How is Joe?”

“Is that your bag?” Catherine lifted Jane’s suitcase off the carousel with easy strength. “Joe was no better when I left the hospital. But as far as I know, he’s no worse. Eve doesn’t want to leave him, so she asked me to pick you up. I’ve made reservations for you at a Hyatt near the hospital. We’ll check you in, then I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Jane shook her head. “To hell with that. I’m going to the hospital to be with Eve. I should have been with her ever since Joe was admitted. It’s been almost two days. Why the hell didn’t she call me before this?”