ROYALE INN

Though she has driven by the downtown hotel many times over the years, it never occurred to Helen to go inside the place. Not until today. When she and Eric walk through the lobby to pick up an envelope that has been left for them at the front desk, she finds the interior as charming as the outside of the building--that is, not at all.

They ride the elevator up to the fourth floor. It is a small, claustrophobic cube, and the tight space makes Helen’s breathing even more labored.

“Room 407,” Eric says as he looks at the card key that was inside the envelope. “Remember: do not set that bag down until we look in the room and make sure Sophie is there and okay.”

“Then we close the door and wait.” She spent the entire ride to the hotel running through the instructions over and over in her head.

“And we do not open it until he knocks and we count to sixty.” “What’s to stop us from taking the money in the room with us so that we have that and Sophie?” she asks. “The fact that he has a key to the room, too. If the money isn’t left outside--or isn’t all there--then he is most certainly not letting us out of that room.” Helen’s stomach flips end-over-end. He’s going to count the money… She can only hope that Brent’s plan plays out perfectly on-schedule.

The state of affairs on the fourth floor is even worse than that of the lobby. The red carpet shows severe signs of fraying, and the lighting is creepily dim. Helen’s entire body is already quaking with apprehension, and the scenery is only making it worse. The duffel bag slung over her shoulder feels like it weighs two thousand pounds.

They locate Room 407 with ease. As Eric swipes the card key in the door, Helen hears something that makes her heart swell with hope: a cry.

“That’s Sophie,” she says, pushing toward the door, frantic to get inside. “She’s in there.”

Eric reserves comment as he opens the door. Sure enough, Sophie sits on the dingy queen-sized bed. Her howls become even louder once the door is open; her face is flushed from crying so hard.

“Oh, my sweet girl. You’re all right!” Helen rushes over to the little girl, who reaches out for her but does not miss a beat in her terrified cries.

“The bag,” Eric reminds her. Helen slips it off her shoulder without ever taking her eyes off Sophie. The minute she is free of that horrible duffel bag and all it represents, she scoops up the child.

“You’re all right, sweetie,” she tells Sophie as she strokes her soft brown hair. “Everything is all right.”

A glance at Eric reveals that he is relieved, perhaps even surprised. Some color has returned to his face, which has been ashen ever since Helen arrived at his office.

“Fortunate that Jason was able to produce the money so quickly,” he says as he sets the bag outside. Helen cannot tell if she detects a hint of accusation in his words. She doesn’t want to think about Jason now. She has no idea what he is going to do, how he is going to condemn her, once they get Sophie home. But first…

She wonders if she can send Jason a text message and tell him to have Brent call the entire thing off. What does it matter if they catch the kidnapper? Let him get away with what real money is in the bag. The important thing is that she has Sophie in her arms.

Eric closes the door with a decisive slam. He waits, tapping his toe on the floor, for their signal. Sophie’s cries fade, finally, into heavy, drained breaths.

“Everything is all right,” Helen whispers to her granddaughter. She waits, breathless and shaking, for the knock that will tell them this is all about to be over.

But it does not come. Instead she hears a male voice call out, “Freeze!”

“What the hell?” Eric says, moving toward the door. Helen hears the click of the card key in the door, and then the door flies open and slams Eric in the face. He staggers backward and falls to the ground.

Everything before her is a blur: the man rushing into the room, the police officer behind him, and then the gun trained firmly upon her and Sophie.

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