“Yes, he had a reporter call him this morning. Some sort of word has gotten out about the fire and deaths.”

“Have you read about Chris?” Violet asked abruptly. “Beyond what his sister told us?”

Caution settled on Gianna’s shoulders. “No, why?”

“I have. I Googled him. I swear there are thousands of articles about him and those other kids who disappeared so long ago.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Gianna, watching her daughter carefully. “It was a tragedy.”

“There were a million more articles published when he came back two years later.”

“Also what I would expect. It was amazing that someone suddenly reappeared.”

“He nearly died,” said Violet. “He had severe injuries when he came back.”

“Jamie told us that.”

“Horrible things happened to him while he was held captive.” Violet’s eyes dampened.

Aha. “I know, honey.” She pulled her daughter into her arms. Violet was an empathetic girl. Nearly to the point of feeling things too deeply. Injured animals, friends with bruised feelings, people with sad stories on the Internet. Violet longed to comfort them all. Gianna had known she had a sensitive daughter when four-year-old Violet had begged her mother to find the injured kitten from a newspaper picture. “Look at her sad face. I just want to make her happy,” she’d cried. Violet hadn’t said, “I want a kitten.” Her primary goal wasn’t about herself; it had been the kitten’s happiness.

Chris Jacobs was now the kitten.

“What do you think he went through?” Violet whispered into Gianna’s hair. “How does he get up every morning? I also read about the adults the Ghostman killed. He had victims of all ages. I can’t think about all those children . . . and his burns. Did the other children watch while he burned Chris? Did Chris see him do it to others?”

Gianna was silent. How much does it influence the person he is today? Does he suffer from PTSD? How many scars does he have that I can’t see?

Could he have a normal relationship?

She held her breath. Was she getting involved with a man who could be dangerous? It wasn’t often that people came out of that type of situation and went on to have normal healthy lives. There was baggage. Usually lots of it. Is that what she would find if she moved forward with Chris?

He seemed in control, but she’d seen his shields briefly drop. His eyes had reminded her of a wounded animal’s. Feral, ready to run at the slightest movement, self-preserving. Then the look had vanished.

“I think he’s had a long time to put it behind him. He’s not fully healed, of course,” amended Gianna. “I don’t think anyone can fully recover from what he went through. But he appears very grounded to me.”

“What do you think his son is like?”

“Brian? From the pictures and what Jamie said about him, he seems like a bright kid.”

“Do you think he knows what happened to his father?”

“I imagine he knows some version of the story. I suspect the only person who will ever know everything is Chris, and he doesn’t seem the type to share his burdens.”

“He likes you,” Violet said softly. “I’ve seen him watching you when he thinks no one else will notice. It’s like he’s looking at a movie star.”

“Oh.” Gianna couldn’t find a coherent reply.

“Be careful, Mom. I like him, but he’s been through a lot.”

“I like him, too. I think he’s a good man.”

“He is. He’s like a guy in a movie who steps in front of the bullet for his friend without an ounce of regret.”

“Selfless.”

“Yes, in an old-fashioned type of way.”

“Hi, Lacey.” Gianna answered her phone, her hands shaking. Her heart had nearly leaped out of her chest when she saw the odontologist’s phone number on her screen. She sat down on the hotel bed, thankful Violet had been picked up by Jamie and wouldn’t hear the conversation. Gianna had just finished packing, planning to switch hotels to avoid any more reporters.

“You were right,” Lacey blurted. “It’s a match.”

Gianna sucked in a breath, her vision darkening. Daddy?

“Gianna, are you okay?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically, her mind racing. Daddy? The image of the burned corpse on the metal table in the medical examiner’s office was stuck in her mind, and her stomach heaved.

“Oh, my God, Gianna. Your father was alive all those years. How can that be possible?”

“I don’t know,” Gianna whispered. She lowered her head between her knees, pressing her cell phone against her ear until it hurt. Why? Why?

Why didn’t you contact me?

“What made you ask for the DNA comparison?”

She strained to hear Lacey’s voice over the ringing in her ears. “I don’t know. It was just a hunch.”

“If he was alive, then why—”

“I don’t know why,” Gianna said harshly. She wanted to throw her phone against the wall and scream.

Why?

Lacey was quiet for a few seconds. “I know this is a huge shock, but you must have had some sort of inkling, since you asked me to run a test for you. It was more than a hunch.”

“It was the medallion,” she choked out.

“Just the medallion? Nothing else?”