Prologue

I still don't know why he picked me. I'm just an ordinary woman.

My name is Sarah Engel and I'm a fourth grade teacher at the Commonwealth Academy. I've taught at the private school since I graduated from college six years ago.

Hidden behind tall gates along the coast of Maine, Commonwealth is a unique facility designed for children of the chosen—politicians, rock stars, financial gurus—people whose progeny is in danger of being kidnapped and held for ransom. These days, as nutty as the world is, I guess you could say anyone's kids face that possibility but the parents of our students would actually pay. And pay big. We had an attempted breach, as we call them here, two years ago and the ransom note, found in the would-be kidnapper's lair, was for eight figures. The parents confessed later they would have gladly paid the demand and even much more.

Money like that means nothing to me. For one thing, educators are notoriously underpaid, private school or not. For another, if I didn't have to eat, I'd volunteer to work with kids. To paraphrase a slogan, it isn't just my career, it's my vocation.

Why? The answer is simple and I didn't even need years of therapy to figure it out.

When I was a few weeks old, I was returned to the hospital like a suddenly reconsidered purchase. There was no note, no letter, no explanation of why I no longer fit into my parents' plans, just me...in a plastic laundry basket with a ragged towel at the bottom. A record of my birth could not be found and the security tape revealed nothing but a fuzzy image by the back door. Children's Protective Services was called. I went into foster care and emerged eighteen years later relatively unscathed, relative being the operative term. The experience gave me a certain empathy for children who are deemed inconsiderate upon their thoughtless arrival but let's save that particular story for another time. Basically, I was abandoned at the hospital and my students are abandoned at Commonwealth. The differences are minor but the end result is the same.

Everyone knows when they aren't wanted.

And maybe that's the key. Looking back on it now, I have to accept that explanation. He sensed my vulnerability, my weakness, and used it to his advantage. Because children need protection and I wasn't strong enough, he knew I would offer the least amount of trouble. He'd be in and creating his chaos before I had a chance to realize what had happened. That's how he always operates and this time was no different. He didn't arrive with a bustling fanfare or a big explanation or a loud announcement. He simply slipped in and started manufacturing his evil and by the time it was too late, he was part of our fabric, a darkly colored thread running sideways though the tapestry, a thread impossible to remove without destroying everything that it touched. He'd assumed because of me that his task would be an easy one.

I wish I could say he'd been wrong.

Chapter One

Fourteen pairs of ten-year-old eyes stared at me as I began to speak. Unfortunately, I have seventeen students. The three who weren't paying attention were the three who seldom pay attention: Kayla Swanson, Madison Parker and Tonisha Inz. Kayla, the ring leader, was showing the other two something hidden in her hand. They didn't realize the room had gone silent until Madison looked up and sucked in a breath. Sensing trouble, Kayla and Tonisha lifted their gazes. Tonisha's eyes widened with guilt but an unconcealed belligerence narrowed Kayla's bright glare.

Her fist closed as she jerked it behind her back. "What's wrong?" she asked sweetly. "Why'd you stop talking?"

"I stopped talking because you aren't listening." My tone was neutral. I didn't want to start a fight I couldn't finish—or win—this late in the day. The bell was going to ring in ten minutes and situations involving Kayla always carried the potential for explosion. She came by it naturally. A Madonna wannabe, her mother was a walking disaster tottering on the edge of her final tragedy. Some days I worried that Kayla might be it.

"I was too listening," she countered. "Ask me what you were saying and I'll tell you. Right now. Go ahead, ask."

I didn't accept the challenge because I'd lose. Kayla was not only popular but smart. Smart and sneaky. She reminded me a lot of myself at that age, except of course, she came from a very wealthy family and knew who her parents were. She'd earned straight A's every semester, not that her mother ever noticed. Before I could answer reply, the phone on my desk rang.

Backing down from Kayla was like turning away from a hissing snake but it was nasty outside, I felt a cold coming on, and all at once I simply wanted to go home and read a mindless magazine in front of my tiny fireplace. The first week back after our winter break was always a tough one. I'd made it to Friday but only through the grace of whoever's in charge of my personal sanity, which isn't me.

This is where Pearl Williams, my closest friend at Commonwealth, would butt in and say something like "Praise the Lord!" Pearl is constantly trying to get me to her church, which I'm sure is a perfectly nice one, but I'm on the fence about the whole church thing. I went through a gamut of religions while in foster care and none of them felt like a fit. I gave up after awhile.

I reached behind me and answered the phone, my eyes still on Kayla's. "Yes?"

The secretary for the dean of students spoke quickly, her voice rushed, her manner nervous. "You've got a new one," she announced. "I'm bringing him down in five minutes."

"Isn't it kinda late?" I answered in surprise. "What's the deal—"

"We're on our way." She hung up without waiting for my reply.

I replaced the phone and addressed the class. "We're getting a new student. Go ahead and put your books away and we'll spend our remaining time getting to know him."

The announcement puzzled me. Pupils were not accepted after the semester started. The school's biggest draw was its security but Commonwealth was known for its education as well; it wasn't easy to get in. Large donations did have a way of nullifying rules, though. In any case, I was usually notified before someone was added to the class. And not by a phone call a few moments prior.

A low buzz of excitement filled the room until a knock sounded and the door opened. The secretary, Ruth Anne Miller, stood on the threshold, a tallish boy with dark hair and an uneasy stance at her side. Before I could say anything, she thrust a note at me, then turned and scurried away. My perplexity growing, I greeted the boy as I glanced at the note. Engel - Christopher. I'm as flexible as the next person but a last name, at the least, would have been helpful.

I introduced myself and asked for his full name.

"I'm Christopher Winslow." Ducking his head, he lifted his right hand as he spoke, his gaze darting to mine. His sea blue eyes were red and swollen and it was obvious that he'd been crying. As I reached for his fingers, someone behind me snickered loudly. Mortified, the boy before me dropped his hand, his face flushing brightly.

If I made a big deal over his gesture, I'd only embarrass him more. My heart ached for him, though. Every new student comes into the classroom scared and nervous and I know why.

CHANGE IS SCARY.

I don't care much for it, myself.

I patted his shoulder, stepping away so he faced the class. "Boys and girls, this is Christopher Winslow." I sent my glance over the class but let it settle on Tyler Morgan. He'd been the one who laughed. For the most part, I love my students but I didn't feel that way about Tyler. I wasn't proud of my reaction, (Pearl would have told me to pray about it) but Tyler was one of those kids who always acted like the cliché he is. Smug, rich, an ego like a horse and he was only ten years old. I didn't have to imagine what he'd be like when he grew up. I'd met his father.

My pointed stare locked with Tyler's as I spoke quietly. "Christopher's going to join our class so let's give him a good old-fashioned Commonwealth welcome."

They studied him with open interest, the boys weighing his sports potential, the girls weighing everything else. Tyler had the grace to look slightly ashamed as his hello mingled with the others.

"You can sit there for now." I pointed to one of the empty chairs near the front row. "Monday we'll find you a permanent spot."

I went to my desk and he made his way to his, his movements awkward but contained. Giving him some time to settle in, I made a calming motion with my hands, the noise finally subsiding.

"Tell us a little bit about yourself, Christopher. Where did you go to school before this?"

"I lived in Juba," he said, a slight British lilt slipping into his answer. "That's a city in South Africa. My father works for the United Nations."

"The first Sudanese Civil War started in 1955 when a group of soldiers mutinied and it didn't end until 1972." From the second row, Matthew von Swaroski spoke as if in a trance. "The Sudanese People's Liberation party gained control in 2005 and made the town the capitol of the Southern Sudan. The U.N. has a base of operations there known as the O.C.H.A. Camp."

Matthew's father was a powerful politician who came from a family of powerful politicians. One day Matthew would probably rule the world. Or at least a small country in eastern Europe. His encyclopedic mind never failed to amaze me.

Christopher blinked in surprise then nodded slowly. "My dad worked at the Camp. He was everyone else's boss."

Unless mommy was a movie star or daddy was a quarterback, few of my students really understood what their parents did to earn their millions. His vague answer was fairly typical but it also revealed more than he realized. He was still in the hero-worship stage, his father clearly his model, an undisguised pride crossing his features as he relayed the information. I wondered about the mother but didn't ask. Family dynamics was a subject full of land mines on a good day. I wasn't going to broach it at 3 p.m.

Another good decision, I realized a second later. The bell went off and I gave a nod. The kids scrambled out of their seats and headed for the door, the orderly line they were supposed to maintain a little less orderly because it was Friday. Madison smiled as she walked past Christopher but Kayla and Tonisha grabbed her arm and hustled her away. Heaven forbid they acknowledge the new kid before he underwent their rigorous—and mysterious—tests of coolness.

Standing beside his desk, his books in his arms, he seemed torn between leaving and saying something.

"It's tough coming to a new school, isn't it?" I wove my way toward him, straightening the desks as I went. "Are you a day student or a resident?"

"I'm a resident but my dad's picking me for a weekend visit today."

My classroom looked out toward the front of the school and the driveway that led to the road. I nodded toward the windows. They were bulletproof and thick, but at least I had a couple. "Then you'd better get going. He's probably waiting out there right now."

He turned and ran out the door as if suddenly freed from captivity. A nice, ordinary kid, I thought as I watched him go. I'd gotten lucky this time. Christopher Winslow seemed like the quintessential fourth grader.

Thank goodness for small favors.

#

Because of my single status, Commonwealth graciously allowed me to live in one of the half dozen minuscule cottages that sat on the campus grounds. Perched by themselves near the rocky coastline, they were ancient, dark and constructed of rough cut granite. They'd been built in the forties, along with the school, when all the students at Commonwealth had been residents and teachers were required to live on the grounds. I loved the cabin's location and made a weekly trek to the cliffs part of my routine. Except for Ed Frankenberg, my nearest neighbor, most of the staff preferred the newer faculty residence, closer to the classrooms. Four advisors, one for each of the ten room elementary wings, actually lived with the students in their building. We had two wings for girls and two for boys. The younger, more enthusiastic teachers usually volunteered for those spots. The hours were long but it meant more pay. I'd done a short stint when I'd first arrived. I'd liked being that close to the kids but I'm also a bit of a hermit and quieting down that number of hyper children every night before nine had gotten to be too much after awhile.

Winter days in Maine could mean stunning blue skies and vistas that turn your heart inside out but today was not one of those times. The afternoon's gloom settled around me like a weary blanket, gray and thick, and the wind had picked up accordingly. Pulling my coat closer, I trudged across the campus, rolling my briefcase behind me. Sometime between now and the end of the weekend I had homework to grade, lessons to plan and report cards to fill out, but those tasks were going to have to wait. I planned to tuck in and fight the bug that was beginning to make my nose run.

Then my cell phone rang.

Coming to a stop, I dug out my phone, Angela Sauer's clipped tones answering my hello. The dean sounded more uptight than usual, which was saying a lot. "I'd like to talk to you about something, Sarah. Are you available Monday morning before classes start?"

Angela holds a PhD in education and is more than qualified to be the dean of elementary students. Most teachers would be thrilled to have someone like her at the helm. But I'm not most teachers. I'm me and we've crossed swords ever since she joined Commonwealth. My teaching techniques were the bane of her existence, and her existence was the bane of my career.

I see Commonwealth as a place to educate children, to expand their minds and lift their horizons.

Angela saw the Academy as a place to make money.

And more money comes from having more students and having more students comes from word of mouth. If the parents are happy, then they recommend the school. And the way to keep the parents happy is through success, earned or imagined.

I wanted to tell her 'no,' but that really wasn't an option. I was lucky she didn't ask me to turn around and see her now. "What time would you like me there?"

"Seven-thirty would be fine. I'll put you down on my calendar. Look forward to seeing you then."

I had a retort ready and hearing it would have sent Pearl into apoplexy but Angela hung up before I could speak. Another lucky break... for me.

I started walking once again, a sprinkling of icy rain beginning to fall. I'd almost passed Ed Frankenberg's house when his front door flew open and Ed rushed down the sidewalk toward me.

"Oh, my goodness, Sarah, I'm so glad I caught you!" His hands fluttered nervously, his right eye keeping time with a nervous tic. A lifelong bachelor, Ed reminded me of an aging scarecrow, his tall, lanky frame continually hunched over to minimize his height, his graying crew cut a throwback to the fifties. "I have to go into town. Right now, as a matter of fact. Mother called me five minutes ago and she's crying. Can you feed the dogs this weekend?"

Ed had moved his elderly mother from her home in Portland to an apartment in the nearest village so he could keep a closer eye on her. Witnessing his dilemma had made me realize there might be some benefits to not having a family. When I'd first had the thought, I'd felt guilty, mean and selfish; for penance I'd offered to fed and walk his two miniature Dachshunds, Ethel and Lucy.

They were nasty little ankle biters but I was stuck. The one-time action had turned into a regular affair. I had told myself Ed didn't have a choice. He had no one else and to be fair, it wasn't like I had anything important to do.

"No problem." I reached out for his key, which he handed over with a grateful expression.

"Thank you, Sarah. I really appreciate it."

For Ed, a bigger social misfit than me, this was gushing. I nodded gamely and he scurried back inside his house.

#

After a struggle which I won—this time—I opened my cantankerous front door and slipped inside, sinking into the nearest chair to pull off my boots. I'd been tired before walking home; now I was exhausted. Silence wrapped around me as I leaned my head back and took a deep calming breath. The reprieve lasted all of two minutes then my phone beeped, announcing the arrival of a text message. Give me a break, I thought. I need this day to be over. I reluctantly dug into the bag one more time, finally finding the device. I pulled it out, squinting at the tiny screen.

The text was from Pearl. "Sure u dont want 2 come ovr 2 nite?"

What the—? It took me a second to remember Pearl had asked me to dinner before we'd parted ways that morning. I had declined but promised to call after I got home. Sighing with weariness, I started to type. I was supposed to be part of the tech savvy generation but my fingers didn't know it. The final message only included two extra, meaningless letters, a record for me. "Thanx but no thanze."

I cut off the phone and dropped it back into my case. I wasn't up for dinner much less anything else but she wanted me to meet her husband Jon's latest buddy, a new guy who'd just joined his station. Jon was a lay preacher in their church but their primary source of income came from his job as a fireman. Pearl had the perfect marriage and she never wasted an opportunity to tell me about it. She wished the same thing for me, she said constantly, and was bound and determined to find me a good man. Since I definitely wanted children some day and was old-fashioned enough to think that required a husband, I was usually grateful but not tonight. In fact, I didn't even care if the latest possibility was Daniel Craig and Clive Owen rolled into one hunky package (her description of Jon's friend) I needed a quiet evening at home. My land line rang a moment later.

I picked up the receiver and spoke at the same time. "I meant what I said. I'm not coming. I'm too tired, I'm getting a cold and I had a phone call from the lovely Ms. Sauer before I even got home."

Pearl knew all about my disagreements with the dean. In the beginning, she'd told me to pray for Angela and I'd told her if I was going to pray for anything involving Angela it'd be that she got hit by a bus. Pearl had said I didn't quite understand the concept of prayer and I'd agreed.

A slight pause came down the line, then Pearl spoke. "What's wrong now?"

"Who knows? She called and asked me see her Monday morning."

"Good grief. I wonder what she wants?"

"I'm assuming it's the usual. Money vs education. Her vs me. Night vs day." There were no secrets between me and Pearl but I hesitated slightly. "She sounded a little weird. Like something wasn't right."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Just off, somehow."

I expected Pearl to lecture me on patience but uncharacteristically, she didn't. "Well, frankly, I don't know how you could tell. She always acts weird, if you ask me." Without transition she changed gears. "I know you said you don't want to come over but Jon made clam chowder. I think it'd do you some good to have some and relax a bit. You stay cooped up in that ole house way too much. You sit at home all the time."

"I don't sit at home all the time. I couldn't come over if I wanted to, though. My car's still in the shop and there's no way I'm walking anywhere again tonight."

"I'll pick you up. And you can stay over. The guest room is already made up and—"

"Pearl—" My interruption went unheeded. She rattled on until I spoke her name a second time. "Pearl! It's not just that... Ed's gone and I need to take care of Ethel and Lucy. Unless you'd like me to bring them with me?"

The ploy worked as I'd known it would. She couldn't stand the yappy, little dogs.

"You just don't want to come," she pouted.

"You're right. I don't want to come, which is what I told you at school and what I said in my text. I need some down time, Pearl."

She fell silent at last. Only a few people at Commonwealth knew my personal history but Pearl had witnessed the depression that swamped me on occasions. Without any warning, like a nasty cloud of flies, it could swoop in and completely envelope me, stinging and biting. I fought as hard as I could, but sometimes it won. "Are you okay?" Her voice turned low and caring.

"I'm fine," I answered wearily. "Really. I just think I might be getting Hannah Simpson's cold. She sneezed right in my face just before lunch yesterday."

Surprising me again, Pearl acquiesced. "All right. I'll give you a pass tonight but when you're feeling better, we're getting together. I promised Jon's friend a date with you."

We said goodbye then I stood wearily, a bone-aching lethargy accompanying me as I shuffled off in search of aspirin and oranges.

#

I wasn't sure what woke me up but all at once, I was definitely awake. The clock beside the bed read 3:17 in glowing green. Inside my chest, my heart galloped, a painfully fast pulse pounding deep within my ears. Under the blankets, my hands had turned into fists, my whole body tensing to do battle.

But with whom? Or what?

Concentrating carefully, I heard only silence. No stealthy footsteps, no mad men stumbling about, no wild-eyed monsters rubbing their hands in gleeful anticipation. I listened harder, my eyes darting about the room, trying to dissolve the shadows that lingered. I'd had a nightmare, obviously, but I couldn't remember it, which was probably a good thing considering how I felt. All at once I remembered the little white pill I'd taken right before bed. The cold medicine must have done something to my brain.

A few seconds of deep breathing and the thrashing rhythm in my chest slowed to a slightly less chaotic speed. I sat up slowly, pushing my hair from my eyes and swinging my legs to the side of the bed.

That's when I heard the wind chimes. A student from Thailand had given them to me a few years back and I'd deemed the beautiful etched glass bells too fragile to go outside. Stretching down at least four feet from the ceiling in descending size, they hung from a hook, to the right of my bedroom windows. In the summer, my fan made them sing a delicate song that rocked me to sleep.

I turned slowly, my gaze going to the darkened nook. The bells were moving softly, their silvery tones barely discernable as they swung back and forth ever so slightly. It looked as if someone had touched them gently, passing by in the gloom to set off their melody. As I stared, my confusion returned...until a whisper of air stroked my face, its icy fingers delivering an unexpected and frigid caress. My breath caught in my throat and suddenly I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

The window was wide open.