Free Fool Me Once by Harlan Coben

honey. Draw me a picture, okay? I’ll be there in minute.”
    “Isabella?”
    “Isabella’s fine too. She’ll be back soon.”
    It took longer to get over the effect than she’d originally thought. Rage burned like her eyes. For the first ten minutes, she had been completely incapacitated, helpless to mount even the most minimal defense against an enemy. Eventually the pain and dry heaving subsided. Maya caught her breath. She rinsed out her eyes and washed her skin with dishwashing detergent. Then she scolded herself.
    Turning her back on the enemy. Amateur hour.
    How could she have been so stupid?
    She was furious, mostly with herself. She had even started buying Isabella’s act, thinking maybe she really didn’t know anything about it. So she let her guard down. Just for a second. And look at the results.
    Hadn’t she seen enough times when a slipup, a second of lost concentration, had cost lives? Hadn’t she learned this most obvious of lessons?
    It wouldn’t happen again.
    Okay, enough self-flagellation. Time to remember, learn, and move ahead.
    So what next?
    The answer was fairly obvious. Take another few minutes. Recuperate to full strength. Then track down Isabella and make her talk.
    The doorbell rang.
    Maya rinsed her eyes one more time and headed to the door. She debated getting a gun first—no more chances—but she could see right away it was Detective Kierce.
    He stared at her when she opened the door. “What the hell happened to you?”
    “I got hit with pepper spray.”
    “Come again?”
    “Isabella. My nanny.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “No, I’m a gifted comedian. Nothing warms up a crowd like jokes about pepper-spraying nannies.”
    Roger Kierce’s eyes wandered around the room before returning to Maya. “Why?”
    “I saw something on my nanny cam.”
    “You have a nanny cam?”
    “I do.” Again she thought about Eileen giving it to her, even telling her exactly where to put it. “It’s hidden in a picture frame.”
    “My God. Did you . . . did you see Isabella do something to . . . ?”
    “What?” But of course it was natural that a cop’s mind would go right there. “No, that’s not it.”
    “Then I’m not sure I follow.”
    Maya debated what route to take here, but she knew that the most direct one would be the only one that would protect her in the long run. “It’ll be easier to show you.”
    She headed toward the laptop on the kitchen island. Kierce followed her. He looked confused. Well, she thought, that look was about to be raised to the tenth power.
    Maya spun the screen toward him. She moved the cursor arrow, clicked on the play button, and waited.
    Nothing.
    She checked the USB port.
    The SD card was gone.
    She checked the island and the floor around it. But she knew.
    “What?” Kierce asked.
    Maya took deep even breaths. She needed to stay calm. She looked two or three steps ahead now, again like on a mission. You can’t just think about firing rounds downrange at the black SUV. You need to consider your response. You need to have the best intel before making any sudden, life-altering moves.
    She knew what this would sound like. If she blurted out what she had seen on the nanny cam, Kierce would think that she was a lunatic. Hell, it sounded crazy replaying it now in her own mind. There were still strands of cobwebs from the pepper spray. What exactly had happened here? Was she, for certain, thinking straight?
    Take it slow.
    “Mrs. Burkett?”
    “I told you to call me Maya.”
    The evidence for her crazy assertion—the SD card—was gone. Isabella had taken it. It would probably be wisest for Maya to handle that on her own. But at the same time, if she did that, if she didn’t tell him now and it came back . . .
    “Isabella must have taken it.”
    “Taken what?”
    “The SD card.”
    “After, what, she hit you with the pepper spray?”
    “Yes,” Maya said, trying like hell to sound authoritative.
    “So she sprays you, she grabs the