Tuesday, July 27. 1:29 p.m. Seatoun, Wellington, New Zealand.

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“It’s a two-story house.” Ana’s finger traced over the back of an envelope where she had sketched the rough layout of her father’s house.

They were two streets away from it, and with each step Daniel became more and more tempted to tie her to the nearest telephone pole.

“The garage and workshop is underneath,” she continued. “The living room is at the rear with a sheer drop down to the backyard. There’s one set of stairs going up to a side door on the top floor that leads into the laundry room, which then opens onto the hallway.”

“Internal entrance from the garage?”

She shook her head, the curls loosened from her braid dancing across her shoulders. At his insistence, Ana had crushed her clothes into wrinkles and smeared both pants and shirt with grime.

He studied the diagram again while she crouched beside him, wrapping a length of ripped tomato-sauce-spotted white shirt around her calf. They’d raided Harrison’s wardrobe and refrigerator, as distasteful as it’d been, because Ana needed a visible reason for not hurrying up the street toward her father’s house. She tied the cotton off around her leg and took a few practice steps, going a little OTT with a fake limp that in other circumstances would’ve been cute.

“Don’t oversell it. Remember what he teaches. Just take your time approaching the house, and with any luck he’ll spot you coming and be distracted enough to give me the opportunity to get inside. Right?”

She sighed, her lower lip trembling. Before he changed his mind and really did tie her up somewhere safe, he stepped forward and tugged her into his arms. She clung to him and he buried his face in her hair.

Why had he even agreed to her minimal involvement in this plan? A plan that could easily turn to a big fucking mess depending on so many variables that his brain hurt from examining them one by one. And from thinking about this Harrison guy watching Ana, hating her, wanting to hurt her. And worse. Cold crept over his scalp. The sick fuck could want her, but he wasn’t going to get close enough to Ana to even smell the sweetness of her perfume. Not gonna happen. Not on his watch.

“Will you be careful, Daniel?” Her lips move against his chest. She pulled back far enough to look at him and roll her eyes. “Duh. That sounded dumb.”

His heart punched into his throat. “That sounded like you want me around for a bit longer.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Damaged goods are useless to me, Farm Boy.”

After one last kiss dropped on her forehead, he released her before he did something stupid. Like telling her he loved her.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You’d better start limping.”

Ana turned and walked away.

Daniel shut his eyes, breathed deeply, and tried to regain his focus. Concentrate, Calder. Think about your breathing. Think about your muscles doing what they do best. Think about balance, energy distribution, placement of your hands and your feet.

Without glancing in her direction again, he jogged down the driveway in front of him and easily scaled the wooden fence, dropping into the backyard of the neighboring house. For the next few minutes he didn’t think.

Or feel.

He ran, climbed, dropped, stretched, and ducked until he reached the fence bordering John Grace’s property, where he paused. Listening, scanning, evaluating. Gone was the amicable guy Ana had teasingly nicknamed Farm Boy. Only the soldier remained.

A soldier on the most important mission of his life.

Ana also concentrated on the movements her body made, rather than the barrage of conflicting thoughts about Theo, Daniel, and her dad that ping-ponged around her brain.

Left foot forward, slightly drag the right to meet it. What if he’s hurt Theo? No. Don’t think like that. Another few steps. I hope Dad’s had his medication. Pause for a second, wipe brow. Do not glance at the houses on your right trying to see Daniel. What if the guy’s bigger than him? Overpowering? Stop it, that’s enough. Keep going.

She could see her dad’s house at the end of the cul-de-sac, wedged between two other double-story houses. Fortunately they would block anyone inside the kitchen or spare bedroom from spotting Daniel making his way there.

She only hoped that if something went wrong, the journal she had given to a civil defense worker with a note and instructions to hand-deliver them to Sergeant Miller would be enough for the senior officer to take action.

She was getting her family back alive, one way or another.

Ordinary neighborhood sounds followed her along the road. A teenager rumbled past on his skateboard, the tinny sounds of music pumping out of his headphones. Somewhere nearby a chainsaw hiccupped to life with a growl.

Each faltering step disguised the surge of adrenaline pumping through her limbs that made her want to sprint toward the house. The flight or fight reaction tensed every muscle until it seemed she almost vibrated with the strain of not running like an out-of-control lunatic. Fear and fury battled for supremacy inside her. She kept her eyes downcast, terrified that if Harrison watched from the windows facing the street he’d immediately become suspicious of her telltale expressions.

The footpath curved around the end of the cul-de-sac and she stepped off the curb and crossed the road, heading directly for the driveway.

“Theo? Dad? Yoo-hoo, are you there?” she hollered.

That should get the creep’s attention if he’s in there. She plastered what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face and continued to limp.

The door swung inward as her feet touched the path to the house. Theo stood in shadows. A relieved greeting shimmered on her tongue as she took in Theo’s tousled hair and rumpled school shirt, then evaporated into a strangled moan. A large male hand clenched the back of her son’s nape, a knife blade poised under his jaw. The man holding him was hidden by the door angle but Ana had no doubt who it was.