"Mommy? You've been doing that a long time," Janine said from her seat at the kitchen table.

Virginia came back to reality, looking down at the soggy piece of toast she was holding, its surface shiny and thick with butter. "Oops. I'll make a fresh one."

She must have checked her phone at least a hundred times during the night hoping for an answer to her texts. In between, her mind raced with the possibilities, both good and bad, as to why he was not answering them.

"Virginia," Carol called from the living room. "Your captain is on television."

The knife was tossed and toast forgotten. Virginia rushed to join her with Janine following. Bill appeared out of another room. The four of them stood glued to the television as a BREAKING NEWS banner rolled across the bottom of the scene taking place in the front of the Chilvati office building. Captain Beal was one of many police officers standing in the street. Behind them was a cordoned off area, the yellow tape a defining line between attest and arrest. The people within it, most wearing the FBI logo on their backs, were busy loading SUVs with the boxes being carried out of the building.

Judging by the disorganized gathering of junior correspondents mulling about, this had all happened without any forewarning to the press. The vantage point suddenly swung to a young female reporter standing in a circle of people and getting last-minute adjustments to her hair and makeup. The woman frowned and pushed a fingertip against the white earpiece she wore. Then her eyes shot to the camera, and she swatted away hands before putting her game face on. Her team hunched down and slinked out of view.

The reporter's voice was breathless as she yanked the microphone to her mouth and started, "As you can see behind me, the FBI has raided the offices of the renowned Chilvati family today, arresting both Augustus Chilvati and his son Gus Chilvati Jr. Many high-ranking company officials of the Chilvati Group have also been detained for questioning. Computers and files by the truckload are being removed as we speak. Word has just come in that this scene is being repeated at a few other local businesses in the city.

"This all comes after Mark Spinelli, well known to be Augustus Chilvati's right-hand man, was abducted yesterday after exiting the same building. Witnesses reported seeing him being attacked on the street"—her finger pointed down to the pavement as her eyes flashed wide—"right where I am standing. We have a short cell phone video taken during the attack." The woman's head nodded to a spot just off camera. "Let's take a look."

Shaky footage taken from some distance away played on screen. In it, a hooded man struggled against the hold of two others. For a moment it looked like the victim might win out over the two-against-one odds, but the sudden shift in power was a sign that his attackers were serious and well prepared—this wasn't a random robbery gone bad. With all fight suspended, the man was dragged, dumped, and sealed inside the van. Within seconds it was gone.

The reporter reappeared. "Whether the two incidents are related, we have yet to find out. Police Chief Lawson of the Los Angeles Police Department is about to make a statement."

The camera swung right. Vincent Lawson, also known as The Black Cat, was a man with a weathered face. As chief, he spent most of his time tucked away in an office, but he'd grown up in a tough neighborhood and had the gang tats to prove it. The nickname, some said, existed because he had been shot or stabbed in eight different attacks before deciding he'd cheated death enough and turning his life around. Others believed it had more to do with the fact that if Vince Lawson asked to see you, it was usually a bad omen. All the same, he was good at his job and a firm proponent for decentralization of policing, placing more control locally to increase flexibility and reaction time. For him to be showing up at a crime scene was highly unusual, but then again, having the FBI swarming the area wasn't standard operating procedure either.

The crowd grew silent as he approached a makeshift podium with Captain Beal at this side. "Greetings." His voice was smooth . . . smooth as a shark's skin. "We've been told by the FBI that they've uncovered evidence to incriminate the Chilvati family in a wide range of illegal activity. They are still gathering data and have minimal comments on the case at this time."

"Where is Mark Spinelli?" a male voice shot from the crowd. Abduction on the street in broad daylight trumped any mundane removal of records in the eyes of the press.

The chief stepped back to let Cap take his place.

Her boss's tone was clipped when he answered, "We are working with witnesses. So far we know it was a white Chevy van bearing California license plates starting with the letters TC."

"Was Spinelli the source for this bust?"

"We have no comment on FBI sources," the captain said.

"Has he been taken by the Chilvatis?" another asked.

"At this time, all we can say is that he is listed as a missing person."

"Is he presumed dead?" the first one pressed.

Virginia held her breath, ignoring the flashes in her vision that were the first warning that she could have used a couple of deep inhales.

Cap held on to his professionalism, somehow managing to keep his language clean when he spat, "Nobody is presumed dead until we find a body."

A man wearing an FBI hat approached the two at the podium. The crowd kept quiet, seeming to lean forward en masse as the trio stepped away from the microphone and huddled together. The agent brought a hand up to the flat brim of his ball cap, pushing it further back on his head—probably part of the Bureau's training to appear more approachable. After a lengthy discussion that ended with nods all around, the chief and captain turned and followed the agent through the crowd and beyond the yellow tape.

End of press conference.

The reporter scrambled to fill the unexpected extra airtime. "It appears that there's been. . . and . . . further . . . "

Everything faded from Virginia's perception as the living room started spinning, her inner compass gone astray, leaving her no alternative but to go with gravity. Chair, she noted through the haze before aiming all her rubbery parts into its soft lap, hearing Janine's voice yelling "Mommy!" on the way down.

Having no clue as to how long she was out, she came to with a cold, damp cloth stuck to her forehead and Carol, Bill and Janine all fanning her.

"Oh, thank goodness," Carol sighed.

Virginia jumped up, dimly aware of the washcloth hitting her in the chest before landing on the hardwood with a juicy splat. The swirling started up again and she had to grab for Bill and Carol to prevent a repeat performance.

"Easy there, Virginia," Bill said, placing an arm around her waist. "You should eat something."

She took a few deep breaths and swallowed. Once her equilibrium stabilized, she was on the move. "I have to go," she declared, rushing to the bedroom with all three of them in hot pursuit.

"What?" they said in unison behind her.

"I have to go back."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Carol asked, her tone level, soothing, like a nurse handling a difficult patient.

"Yes," Virginia said, opening drawers and pulling out clothing.

"Are you sure?" Bill repeated.

"Yes!" she snapped.

As they cringed, she closed her eyes. "Sorry . . . please understand, this is my job. I need to go back and help. I need to find him."

"What about Janine?" Bill looked down at the little girl standing beside him. "She can stay here. It'll keep her in school while you deal with this."

Janine rocked on her toes and clapped her hands. "I can go to Lauren's birthday party next week."

"I know you were looking forward to that." Virginia tried to ignore the separation anxiety that took root and spread like a choking vine. She had never been away from her daughter for more than a weekend. But Bill's suggestion was convenient . . . and probably safer . . . "Okay." It was settled—Janine would stay with the Kellys for now.

Virginia finished her packing with Janine sitting on the bed. Thinking about what those Chilvati bastards might be doing to him had her muttering. The clothes took the brunt of her anger, being stuffed into the suitcase with little concern for neatness or wrinkle prevention.

"I'm glad you're back," Janine blurted.

Virginia glanced at her. "What, sweetie?"

"I'm glad you feel better. This is the real you."

Virginia dropped the two shirts in her hand, walked over, and knelt down in front of her daughter. "You mean angry me?" Please, please don't let that be how she thinks of me.

"No!" Janine scrunched up her nose. Placing both hands on Virginia's face, she smiled. "Strong you."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Janine was right. She had been hiding out here, feeling sorry for herself. But no more.

Virginia hugged her tight, reassured that she wasn't a total mess of a mother. How could she be with such a wonderful daughter? "Have I told you lately how smart you are?"

Janine giggled.

Thirty minutes later they were all standing at the front door with the lunch Carol had packed, big enough to feed ten men, cradled in Virginia's arms. After saying their goodbyes, they were crossing the porch when Virginia came to a sudden standstill with one overlooked thought: "Can I take your car? I didn't—"

"No need." Bill dropped her suitcase and held up his index finger. "Wait here." He jogged over to the garage and disappeared.

One of the sets of doors opened and the familiar rumble of the Mustang rolled through the air. Enthralled, she watched it being backed out of the garage and driven over.

"It's fixed," she breathed as Bill handed her the keys. She ran her hands along the edge of the roofline. It was surreal to see it looking so pristine. Jack's father had done him proud—a testimony of the love he held for his son. It seemed heartless to take it away now. "You have put so much into this. If you want to keep it—"

"No!" There was a sheepish shrug of shoulders before he spoke down to the ground, sadness seeping through his words. "You might think me silly, but I believe this car calls to Jack's spirit. Every time you are in it, he's wrapped around you, protecting you." His eyes lit up when he raised his chin to add, "I made a few of my own modifications. It should be even faster now."

Virginia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

After a moment of endearing awkwardness, Bill headed over to retrieve her suitcase from the porch. Virginia slid into the driver's seat, placing the brown-bagged feast beside her. As Bill loaded the trunk, Virginia grasped Janine's and Carol's hands through the open window.

"Be . . ." Carol looked down at Janine and reined in any words of warning. She patted Virginia's hand. "Be a mom first," she said. In other words, Don't take any stupid chances.

Virginia nodded. "I'll see you all soon," she promised. With the slam of the trunk, she started the car and put it into gear.

The three of them stayed put, watching her pull out. They shrank in her rearview as she drove down the street. Heading south. Heading home. Heading back to him.

At least that's what she prayed for.

END OF CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

What you've all been asking for: Virginia is finally going home! Who, or what, will be waiting for her? Will she be too late?😳

Don't forget to ⭐️ vote ⭐️ and/or comment. It's always appreciated❣️

Dedicated to @Amber241 for being such a connected reader! From pure joy to livid disgust, your comments have covered all eight of the basic emotions and I've enjoyed every one of them, my little killer.❤️