Don´t own Days of our lives or of the characters. If I did... Oh boy, then a lot of things would be different.

And L? I wouldn´t be writing this story if it weren´t for you. Thank you.

She knew. She knew the moment she opened her e-mail, a cup of coffee in her hand.

You have got 1 (one) new mail.

Sender unknown.

One ord in the subject form.

Georgia.

Her baby.

Her hand was shaking as she put down her cup on the table and clicked on the attached file.

A video.

A teenage girl, strapped to a chair in a dark, empty room, her eyes big with fear.

- Mom? Mom, where are you? Why did you leave me?

Tears where running down the girls face.

Oh God.

Her baby. Her sweet, innocent baby...

It was her. Billie knew it in her gut. She couldn´t prove it, and everyone in Salem would probably think she was loosing it, but she knew that that girl, not much more than fifteen years,was her long lost daughter.

A mother knows.

- Mom? I´m scared. It hurts. Help...

Suddenly the screen turned black, cutting of the girls sentence.

No.

Billie leaned closer, like she could force the girl to come back.

She needed her to come back, she needed to find out more, look for some clues.

Needed to see her face again.

But the screen remained black, the girl did not return.

The words however, kept playing in her head, tauting her.

Why did you leave me? Mom, I´m scared.

She heard something else in the background, but she couldn´t place it. The voice, scratzy with tears, was distracting her.

The thought of her girl in pain made her insides twist.

She took a deep breath, putting her head in her hands.

Think Billie. You´re a cop, now act like one.

The quality of the video idicated that it was at least a couple of months old.

She´d seen enough videos of kidnapped children to know.

The room was dark and she hadn´t seen anything resembeling clues as to where the girl had been held.

The tears on her face. The fear.

Billie knew all to well what it felt like beeing a terrifed, traumatized teenager.

Curtis Reed.

No. She would not go there. Not ever again.

She pushed away the thoughts of the man who had called himself her father and focused on the video she had just seen.

She´d heard something. A faint noice in the background.

Bells. Church bells.

From where? Why had they sounded familiar?

Focus. Go back.

Bo. It had something to do with Bo.

They had heard those bells together and they had been happy.

Think Billie.

It wasn´t in Salem, she was sure of that. They had been on a trip together, a long time ago.

And suddenly, as if someone had said the word out loud, the memory came back to her.

Her head shot up, her eyes shining.

Paris.

The American Cathedral. Of course.

She was reaching for the her car keys and cell phone, already half way out the door when she caught herself.

She didn´t have any proof that the girl in the clip was their daughter. If she went to Bo now he would look at her with compassion in his eyes, shake his head and tell her not to get her hopes he would insist that she turn over her computer to Salem PD so they could analyze the video.

And then, he would tell Hope.

She didn´t want to share her daughter with Bo´s wife.

Their daughter.

She knew it was selfish.

It was idiotic and stupid and down right insane to keep the video from Bo, just beacuse Hope would find out.

Billie knew that.

Hope was a good person. A wonderful mother.

Bo wouldn´t love her if she wasn´t.

She should do the right thing. The sane thing. She was a cop for gods sake.

But, then again, when had Billie Reed ever listened to reason and logic? Even if it came from her own brain.

Paris, then.

That wasn´t sane eighter. Or logical.

But she was a mother. And a mothers love is stronger than anything else.

She picked up the phone again.

- Hello mom. It´s Billie. I need a plane... Yes, tonight... , everything´s fine. An hour? Thank you.

The smile that played on her lips as she hung up the phone could be classified as grim.

Sometimes it was useful having a mother with more money than Fort Knox.

45 minues later she was sitting in the luxurious seat of the Basic Black jet, waiting for the plane to take off.

She tapped in a code on her computer, opening a classified ISA file.

She had work to do.

So had the man, all dressed in black, that was sneaking around the plane.

He needed to find a way in.

He had seen her take a taxi from the hotel where she was staying and decided to follow her.

She should be more careful. And she should really learn to accept help when it was offered to her.

She was one stubborn lady.

- Hey, what are you doing?

Speaking of beeing careful.

- This is a private plane. I suggest you leave, now, before I call security.

Yeah, that was not going to happen.

- Okey, okey. Take it easy. I´m going.

He turned around, slowly, his hands in the air.

- See? I´m not armed or anything. I was just admiring the plane, that´s all.

The crew man gave him a suspicious look.

- Yeah, well, you can´t be this close. The plane is about to take off.

- I´m going.

And then, before the crew man knew what had happened, he was laying on the ground, unconscious.

The man looked around, hoping that no one had seen what had just happened. He hadn´t got time for anymore interruptions.

He needed to get onboard that plane. Now. Beacuse if Billie went to Paris alone...

There where men after her, men who would stop at nothing to make sure that she was laying five feet underground.

And then it didn´t matter how stubborn she was. Or how much she wanted to find her daughter.

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