Page 41 of Wounded Dance
It’s a text from Danika.
Who is this man shouting in the halls about your daughter?
My vision goes black for a moment. Oh my God. What is Denham doing?
I fling open the door and start running for the building. I can hear Ted’s footsteps behind me. “Wait up,” he orders. “I’m here for exactly this situation.”
I don’t slow down. By the time I hit the steps, though, Ted has caught up. “Let’s be careful here,” he says. “Crazies can do crazy things.”
I nod. He tugs the door open.
Danika is in the foyer by the hall that leads to the studios, a phone in her hand. She sees me and waves me over.
Into the phone she says, “I don’t know what he wants, but I’m concerned about the safety of the children here.”
She looks at me and points to the phone. “The police.”
I peer around her. Denham is standing on one of the benches by the dance rooms. The hall is otherwise empty, and I can see parents have moved into the studios to avoid him.
“What I WANT to KNOW,” Denham yells, his voice loud and hoarse. “Is WHERE the hidden CHILD has gone! She belongs to LIVIA MASON. She is FOUR YEARS OLD! And I know SOMEBODY here knows WHERE she IS!”
“I can probably take him down,” Ted says.
Danika looks over at him, then at me. “Who is that?” she asks. Then into the phone, “Thank you, we’ll watch for the squad car. I’ll stay on the line.”
“A bodyguard,” I answer.
Danika’s eyes travel the length of Ted’s body, up and down. “Looks like it,” she says, then turns back to the hall.
“Suze!” she calls to the woman at the front desk. “Get on the intercom and tell everyone to stay in the studios.”
Suze nods, her blond hair bobbing. She looks terrified.
“I don’t think he’ll hurt anybody,” I say to Danika.
“You know him?” Danika looks at me.
But before I can explain, Denham spots me.
“THERE is LIVIA MASON!” Denham shouts, pointing in my direction. “THE CHILD will look like HER!”
I start to head for him, but Danika’s arm shoots out to stop me. “He’s crazy,” she says. “Don’t go near him.”
“I know him,” I say. “He lived with my family for a while when I was a teen.”
Danika’s eyes search my face for a moment, then she says into the phone, “I have someone here who can identify him.” She hands me the phone. “Tell them his name.”
I shakily take the phone, watching Denham. He’s quit shouting, watching me. “He’s not dangerous,” I say, although I probably shouldn’t. I don’t know that. “His name is Denham Young. He’s twenty-one. I don’t think he lives here in San Antonio. He lived with my family five years ago in Houston.”
Denham hops off the bench and heads my way. The bodyguard steps in front of me. “Don’t even think about approaching her,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
On the phone, a woman asks, “How long did you know him?”
“Your boyfriend hire this goon?” Denham asks.
I can’t manage all these conversations at once. “A few months,” I say into the phone, then pass it back to Danika. I don’t answer Denham.
Denham tries to look at me around the rather formidable width of Ted. “Tell me where she is, Livia. I have a right to know where my baby is.”
