“Why won’t you come with us?” Lucy cried.
Jo caught Art’s eye. He didn’t understand, either. “Because I need to stay here and make sure nothing like this will ever happen again.”
“But how are you going to do that?”
“With the help of your aunts Nessa and Harriett,” Jo said.
“Harriett’s going to help you?” Lucy wiped her eyes. Suddenly anything seemed possible. Her daughter’s fondness for Harriett had always struck Jo as unusual. Now she understood: they saw the world the same way. Harriett was feral, while eleven-year-old Lucy still lived by nature’s laws.
“Yes, does that make you feel better?” Jo asked.
Lucy sniffled and nodded. Then she let her arms slip from her mother’s waist and took her father’s hand. Jo gave them both kisses and went inside.
She stood at her bedroom window and watched two police officers help Art pack the back of his SUV. Lucy looked up at the house before she crawled into the back seat, and Jo quickly stepped out of sight. She didn’t want her daughter to see her bawling, and she was terrified of the fury brewing inside her. She didn’t want to punish Spencer Harding—she wanted to destroy him. She planned to rip his bones apart at the joints, pound his skull into mush, and set fire to his flesh. She knew any reasonable psychiatrist given a glimpse of her daydreams would have had her committed.
“Mrs. Levison?”
Jo wiped her eyes before she turned around. “Yes?”
An officer who looked like he was fresh out of high school was standing there in the doorway. “Just wanted you to know that I drove by and checked on your friends. They’re fine.”
“You’re sure? You saw Nessa James with your own eyes? You made sure she’s okay?” Jo asked.
“Oh yeah,” the kid said with an inappropriate grin. “She’s more than okay, as a matter of fact. Mrs. James asked if you could please phone her when you have a chance.”
“Thank you.” Jo searched for her phone and found it right on the nightstand where she’d left it. She’d missed ten calls from Nessa in the past thirty minutes. She cleared her throat before she lifted the phone and dialed.
“Jo?” Nessa answered immediately, her voice breathless with worry. “What’s going on?”
“A man broke into my house around three this morning. He was going to kidnap Lucy.”
“Oh sweet Jesus,” Nessa gasped. “Is she okay? Are you okay? And Art?”
“We’re shaken but fine. The police are here and the guy is in custody. But I need you to call Franklin and have him meet us at your house. I’ll pick up Harriett on the way.”
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t say anything over the phone. I’ll tell you when I see you. And be careful—I’m sure they know where you live, too.”
“They?” Nessa asked.
“Spencer Harding’s men,” Jo said. “They’re coming for us. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After Jo hung up, Nessa stood by the side of the bed in her robe, staring at the phone. A warm hand slid from her shoulder blades to the small of her back, sending a tingle down her spine.
“I had another look around,” Franklin said. “Everything should be locked up tight. But this evening I’m going to install a security system. You reach Jo? She doing okay?”
Nessa nodded. “I think so. She says the three of us need to talk to you. She’s going to pick up Harriett and come over.”
Franklin grabbed his button-down shirt off the floor and slid his arms into the sleeves. “Glad she gave us fair warning. I plan to be dressed the next time company comes calling.”