Ransom For The Wrong Child

Summary

My daughter had been kidnapped. The voice on the phone demanded fifty thousand dollars in cash.

The threat was delivered with the kind of icy detachment that freezes the blood in your veins: No cops. No tricks. Or you’ll be planning a funeral for your little girl.

My phone slipped from my ear as I spun around, lunging toward the fireproof lockbox in my closet where we kept our emergency cash, our bank statements, our lives.

But when I wrenched the heavy lid open, my eyes fell on a single piece of paper. A wire transfer receipt. My husband had drained the account.