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She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to hear her father’s voice. She had to tell him that she was coming home. But first… Glory tiptoed upstairs to make sure that Matthew’s door was closed.

She had expected that he’d be watching one of the movies, but he was asleep on the bed, under a blanket. He looks so pale, she thought, as she bent over him. He’s been crying again. The realization of what she had done to him swept over her as, careful not to awaken him, she tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Standing in the kitchen, she picked up the last of the unregistered cell phones that he had given her and dialed her father’s home in Texas. The call was answered by a stranger.

“Uh, is Mr. Grissom there?” Panicked, Glory knew that she was going to hear bad news.

“Is this a family member?”

“It’s his daughter.” Glory’s voice became high-pitched and breathless. “Is he sick?”

“I’m sorry. I’m with the EMT service. He called 911 and we got here immediately but it was too late to save him. He had a massive heart attack. Are you Glory?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Well, ma’am, I hope what I am going to say is some comfort to you. Your father’s final words were, ‘Tell my Glory that I love her.’ “

She pushed the button to disconnect the call. I have to go home now, she thought wildly. I have to put my arms around him one last time. What was the reservation that had been made for her? Yes, 10:30 tomorrow morning at LaGuardia, Continental Airlines to Atlanta. I’ll change the reservation. I’ll go straight home. I have to see him. I have to tell Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

She opened her laptop. Half out of her mind with grief and regret, her fingers moved automatically to the Continental Airlines Web site. For a few minutes her fingers raced over the keys. Then she stopped. I should have known, she thought. I should have known.

There was no reservation in the name of Gloria Evans to Atlanta at 10:30 A.M.

There was no Continental Airlines plane leaving at that time to Atlanta.

Margaret/Glory/Brittany closed the computer. He’ll be here soon. He won’t have the money. I’ll never escape him. He’ll hunt me down with the same hatred he has hunted Zan Moreland. Her sin was not to want him and mine is that I am a threat to him.

He would be here soon. She knew it. She was standing at the window facing the road. A white truck was slowly passing the house. She gasped. Larry Post had been waiting in a white truck when she left Central Park with Matthew. If he was coming here now, it was to make sure she never had the chance to give Ted up to the cops.

It was too late to get Matthew and go to the car. Her eyes wild, she knew what might work. Rushing upstairs, she picked up Matthew, who was still asleep on the bed. The same way he was when I took him out of the stroller, she thought. She carried him downstairs and put him on the inflated mat in the closet.

“Are you going now?” Matthew asked drowsily.

“Very soon, Matty.” She knew she didn’t have to warn him not to make a sound until she came back for him. I taught him well, poor kid, she thought.

The sound of the bell ringing resonated through the house.

She locked the door of the closet and dropped the key behind the server in the dining room on her way to the door.

A smiling Larry Post was looking in the kitchen window. “Brittany, I’ve got a present for you from Ted,” he called out.