A few minutes earlier, he’d sensed Trish’s eyes rove across him. He’d made a point of staring downfield and clapping, his baseball cap pulled low to screen his face. He’d tasted bile at the back of his throat, sure that even at that distance she not only recognized him but saw into his heart, saw what he planned to do. He imagined flyers in post offices, digital billboards on the highway flashing the Amber Alert. That weird disconnect of the pictures that would be included, snaps taken at happy times, a birthday or a vacation.

Was he really about to do this?

His stomach was sour, and he couldn’t stop tapping his toe. A woman muttered something as she passed, and he snarled, “What?”

She turned, spooked. “I said excuse me.”

“Oh.” He exhaled, forcing a smile. “Sure.”

This was the only option. On the surface it looked foolish, but to anyone who knew the whole picture, what he was planning made perfect sense. His daughter was in danger. He was going to take her somewhere no one could hurt her. Simple as that. When it came down to it, what more important role did a parent have than keeping his child safe?

Besides, maybe Mitch and Jenn could pull it off, and if they did, Victor would leave them alone. At that point, he could bring Cassie back, no harm done. Trish would be furious, but she might learn something along the way. Like what it felt like to be helpless while someone took your child.

Whoa. Jesus. What kind of thinking is that?

When Alex had arrived, he’d pulled past the neat lanes of approved parking spaces onto the grass at the edge of the lot, then did a three-point turn to leave the car facing out. It was a walk of maybe fifty yards. As soon as the ref blew the whistle for halftime…

On the field, Cassie’s team had regrouped and were steadily moving the ball forward, maintaining a good passing game. Her coach was big on not cultivating stars, said that soccer was a metaphor for life; you had to work together for victory. In the opposite bleachers, Trish nuzzled into the crook of her new husband’s arm. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she laughed and punched his shoulder.

How had he ended up here? How had he ended up… this?

Stop. You screwed up. And you’ll pay for it. But are you going to let your daughter be a chip in that game? Or are you willing to risk everything to make sure she stays safe?

An easy choice in a hard world. When it came to priorities, he’d only ever had one.

One of Cassie’s teammates dribbled ahead at an angle, then turned and banked it to the other forward, who fired off a straight blast, plenty of power but no artifice. The opposing goalie caught it easily, then spun and discus-hurled it down the field. As it landed, the referee blew the whistle. The first half was over.

The world seemed to be phasing in and out. Not quite wobbling, more a wet sort of zoomy feeling tied to his heartbeat. Alex wiped his palms on his jeans, suddenly aware of the texture of the fabric. All around him happy fathers talked to happy mothers. Little boys with action figures turned the bleachers into war zones. Girls Cassie’s age had cell phones out and were texting one another. The sun beat down, hotter somehow at this hour than at noon. Hundreds of voices, the sounds of scraping shoes and clicking cameras, it all blended into a whirlpool of noise, spinning and scraping past his ears, a maelstrom he couldn’t separate into individual elements.

It was time.

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Then opened them, stood up, and started down the bleachers. He pictured it all in his head-going over to the sidelines and calling to Cassie. Her delight at seeing him, the puzzled trust in her eyes when he told her that they had to go, right now, yes, right now. He wondered how long it would be before Trish would notice. Five minutes? In the confusion, he might be able to count on five minutes before the questions started. The panic. The announcement over the loudspeaker, the calls to police, the appeals on the local news.

This is for her.

He hit the bottom step, dropped to the faded grass. Behind him, he heard someone say, “Did you see that goalie? What a talented girl.”

Goddamn right, he thought, and took another step before something made him freeze, literally freeze in place, one shoe arrested an inch over the ground. Something about that voice-

“She’s truly something,” the voice continued. “A child like that, you sure hope her parents are taking care of her.”

Alex put his foot down. He felt his hands start to shake, clenched them, but it only made his whole arm tremble. Slowly he turned.

Victor was splayed out across the second row, feet propped below, elbows behind. With his open suit jacket and white shirt and casual posture, he looked like a Ralph Lauren ad. He smiled. “Your daughter has a lot of talent.”

“What are you-” Alex started forward, his fists coming up. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Victor’s smile widened. “Be careful.” He nodded his head ever so slightly to the left. Dreading what he was going to see, knowing what he was going to see, Alex followed his gaze. One of the bodyguards from earlier was on the other side of the field. His gaze was fixed on them as he stood with his hands in his pockets.

Ten feet from the bench where Cassie and her teammates sat.

“I’m not a father myself,” Victor said. “In my line of work, kids are at best an encumbrance. And at worst”-he sucked air through his teeth-“a man with a child, he’s at the mercy of the world. Know what I mean?”

Alex stared, his teeth clenched so hard they ached.

“Man with a child, he loses his head. Gets irrational. He thinks that the fact that he would give anything to protect her is actually enough to keep her safe. But it’s not. If he really wants her to be safe, well”-Victor shrugged, looked down the field-“he remembers that he’s just a man. He sets aside his ego, and he does what’s best for her.”

“What are you talking-”

“There’s nowhere you can go that I can’t find you.”

“I wasn’t-I mean, I-”

“Yes, you were.” The voice calm and certain. “You were going to run. Which makes me wonder if I should wait till Monday. Where does this leave our arrangement? Should I just start making good on my promises to you? Can you get me what I want, or is your little girl going to be doing some very fast growing up?”

“You sick fuck, you touch her, I’ll-”

“Daddy!”

The voice came from thirty yards away, maybe more, but rang like a bell in his soul. Alex whirled, saw Cassie sprinting across the field toward him. Her hair fell in unruly braids, there was a smudge of dirt on her chin, and her jersey was grass-stained. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He opened his mouth to yell at her to stay away, to get back, and then caught himself. Victor was right. A man with a child was at the mercy of the world. He had to play cool.

She didn’t slow as she drew near, and hit him like a wave. “You came!” Her hair smelled of sweat and sunlight. “Did you see my save?”

“I did, baby. It was amazing.” He kissed the top of her head.

“It was something,” Victor said. “You’re an absolute peach.”

Cassie looked at him, then at her shoes, gone suddenly shy. “Thank you.”

“It’s Cassie, right?”

Alex glared, shook his head. “Don’t you-”

“I’m Victor. I’m a friend of your dad’s.” The man leaned off the bleachers, held out one hand. Still looking the other way, Cassie shook it formally. “I came to talk to him, but when I saw you playing I had to stay and watch.”

“Daddy, why are you shaking?”

“Huh?” Alex tore his eyes from Victor, made himself smile for his daughter. “I’m-I’m just so excited for you.”

“Well.” Victor stood, brushed the knees of his suit. “I’ll let you two be.” He winked, started away, then snapped his fingers and turned. “I almost forgot. You never answered my question. About whether we could work together?”