Prologue





It was raining. He only noticed this because it matched his mood perfectly. He hated May fifteenth. It was the day that the Highland Mall had been bombed by terrorists, three years ago. It still hurt. Every May fifteenth since then, he had awakened with a dull pain in his heart, expecting to find his wife next to him.

He showered, brushed his teeth, combed back his jet black hair. He noted three additional grey hairs as he replaced the comb in the medicine cabinet. He went through the motions of every day life, as he did every day, the same routine. Routines had become habits over the years, so that he hardly had to think anymore. They only time he thought was when he was at work, and then only weighing out which video games would be marketable, and which would not be.

As was routine, he went down the stairs, to the kitchen, where he would read the stocks off his computer before eating breakfast. Then, like always, he would pour a cup of coffee into a thermos, and head out to his office after checking with the morning security guys to make sure everything was in order.

He came down to the kitchen, and stared in disbelief. There, on the table, was a basinet, wooden, handmade. There was something moving in the basinet. A soft whine reached his ears. He went forward, despite his better judgement. He peered into the basket. Wrapped in a pink silk sheet was a tiny baby, clean and rosy-cheeked. Her bright eyes smiled up at him as she trashed around. She couldn't have been very old, not even a day. Her little fists waved in the air, and she yawned. He let out a little sigh, sweeping the child into his arms. She moved her head back and forth, resting against him, calm, trusting.

He looked around, and hit the nearest security buzzer. There were cameras pointed at every entrance to the house. Someone had to have left the little girl here, and to do that, they needed to enter.

"Yes sir, Mr. Larsk?" asked the heavily armed security guard behind him. He clutched the baby closer to him.

"Tell me, has anyone entered my house, other then me or one of my staff, in the past twenty four hours?"

"No sir," the man replied briskly.

"Well then, how do you explain her?" he asked, turning so that the guard could see the little girl. The guard simply stared at him.

"I don't know, sir."

"Has anyone entered this place, even my grounds, within the last three days, with a child?"

"No sir! My men would have reported it!"

"Check. I am taking the girl to the hospital."

"I will send a security team at once, sir."

"No. I want to go alone. No limo, no escort. Just me, and the baby. Do any of your staff have car seats?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir." He heaved a sigh.

"Then," he hesitated, "bring me the car seat in the storage annex." The car seat would have been his daughter's, if she had not died along with her mother. . . .

"Right away, sir."

Harold looked at the little girl in his arms. He resolved that she would stay with him. He had lost his wife and unborn daughter to a twist of fate. But, fate had given him a new chance, a new hope. He smiled at the innocent little girl in his arms, and realized in was the first smile he had given in three years.

"Come on, my little Hope. Let's have the doctors check you out."