Patrick looked at the mother, who was already reaching for her fallen phone even as she held her daughter. He thought of Helene McCready. He thought of the quiet house in the woods where a little girl could have been a princess, and the loud, messy apartment where she was just a burden. "For today," Patrick said.
Patrick nodded, his knuckles bleeding and his lungs burning. He looked at Angie. She was watching the mother and child. There was no joy in her expression, only a haunting, quiet recognition. "Is she safe now?" Angie asked softly. Gone Baby Gone
He tackled the man three feet from the yellow raincoat. They hit the sand hard. The mother screamed. The man fought like a cornered animal, his eyes wide and vacant. Patrick looked at the mother, who was already