Page 144 of Pack Choice

“I didn’t. I went with Anna.” She points to the woman who yelped at me earlier.

I grip the woman by the upper arm.

“Hey,” the young woman says, alarmed. “What are you doing? Get off me.”

“Taking you to the nearest police station,” I say firmly as I spy Colt and one of the security men bolting towards me.

“Police station?” The woman sways as if she might faint. “Why?”

“For snatching a child,” I hiss as Colt scoops Harper from my arms, hugging her close to his chest and smearing ice cream all over his shirt.

“I didn’t snatch her,” the woman insists, “her mom asked me to watch her for just a second because her other kid had wandered off. She was crying and sobbing and she gave me money for ice cream, said to wait by the clown–”

“What other woman?” I ask, shaking the woman by the arm, my gaze landing on Colt. “What other woman?”

Molly isn’t with him. She isn’t here.

“I don’t know. White. Large hat and sunglasses. Red dress.”

“Did she give you her name?”

The woman swallows, then starts to cry. “No.”

“Colt!” I say, feeling that now panic is starting to roll across my skin. “Colt, where’s Molly?”

“Molly,” Colt says, lifting his head from Harper to look up at me. “She … she was looking for Harper.”

I snap my phone from my pocket and hit dial, scanning my gaze across the crowd.

God damnit.

The phone rings. It rings some more. The sounds of it hardly discernible above the din of the crowd. It keeps ringing. Then her voice.

“Hey you’ve reached Molly’s voicemail. You know what to do–”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Shit!”

“She must be here,” Colt says, confusion on his face. “She was right here. Call her again.”

“No,” I say, “no, this is something else.”

Colt snaps out his own phone, balancing Harper in his arms. The child looks frightened, her gaze flitting between me and her dad.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, lollipop,” Colt says, “we just need to let Molly know we found you. We didn’t know where you went.” He turns to me. “I can track her on my phone.” I don’t ask why the hell he’s been tracking Molly’s phone, I’m just grateful for it.

As he lifts the phone to his face, it starts ringing in his hand and my entire body sags in relief.

Molly.

Except it’s not.

“River,” Colt says into the phone, “I need to hang up … no, I need to call Molly …” He peers at his daughter, and I take her from him and pass her to one of the security men.

“We need to go look for Molly,” I tell her, wiping a smudge of ice cream from her nose. “I think she got lost in this crowd.”

“Oh no!” Harper says.