“It sucks that we’re doin’ this again,” he muttered to Reese and Trey as the three of them stepped into the house using the back entrance. Brantley had brought his brother along to ensure someone was able to stay with the Greenwoods throughout the ordeal.
“That it does,” Reese replied.
Instead of Dante greeting them, this time they were met by Corinne. She looked tired, not even close to her usual vibrant twenty-four-year-old self.
Brantley could see the concern and fear etched on her pretty face as she greeted them with hugs.
“My parents are in the living room,” she said softly. “My mom refuses to move away from the phone.”
“Do you know what happened?” he asked, wishing to get a little insight before he joined them.
“She’s a bit erratic,” Corinne said, her face a ghostly white, “so I didn’t understand much. A man called. At least she thinks it was a man. She said his voice was disguised with one of those robot-sounding things.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
Corinne shook her head. “He asked if my dad was here. She told him no, and he said the governor needed to be here when he called back or”—she swallowed hard and a sheen of tears clouded her eyes—“or he’d kill Dante.”
Reese was instantly there, putting his arm around Corinne’s narrow shoulders, pulling her close as he started toward the living room, muttering to her softly. “Let’s go in here, talk to your mom and dad. Get this figured out.”
Brantley sighed, then nodded his chin in their direction, a silent instruction for Trey to go with them.
Once he was alone, Brantley took a deep breath, scanned the large, modern kitchen, and prepared himself for what was to come.
He recalled what he’d seen on that grainy security camera. Whoever was calling … whoever was likely going to demand a ransom … they were doing this with Dante. And he knew that as certainly as he knew his own name.
The question he and Reese and Trey had pondered on the drive over was whether or not they should tell Gerard and Katrina. He damn sure had no intention of letting Dante get away with this, but he also wasn’t willing to let the Greenwoods fork over whatever ungodly amount of money was requested in order to get their son back safely when he was already safe.
The only reason they hadn’t decided on outing Dante’s plan was that damned finger. Deep down, he knew that finger belonged to Dante. Which meant one of two things: either Dante was a complete idiot and had cut off his own finger in an effort to make this plausible—highly unlikely considering his vanity—or something had gone cross between Dante and the person he was working with.
Because of that, they agreed they would let the fake kidnapper remain in control for now. They would change the narrative to work for them, but in order to do that, they needed the ransom demand to be made and the Greenwoods to buy them a little time.
When he joined the others in the living room, he cataloged the scene before him.
Katrina was sitting on a salmon-colored couch, Corinne at her side. Both women were huddled close, arms around one another as though holding each other together.
In one of the two straight-backed armchairs patterned in flowers the color of the couch was Gerard. He looked like a defeated man, his eyes rimmed in red, his body language rigid. When Brantley stepped into the room, the man pinned him with a distraught gaze.
Trey and Reese were nearby, doing their best to blend in with the furniture and failing miserably.
As he stared at the overwrought family, Brantley knew he needed to come clean about what had happened at JJ’s before they heard it elsewhere. He didn’t know quite where to start, so he decided ripping off the Band-Aid was likely the most respectful means.
Brantley stepped around to stand so that all three of them could see him, but he refused to sit down when Gerard motioned toward the other armchair.
“Sir, before the kidnapper calls back, I’d like to have someone on my team run a trace on the call.” Brantley motioned toward the cordless receiver on the table. “To do that, I need to know the number.”
When Corinne rattled it off, Brantley shot a text to Luca asking him for the trace. The response he got was immediate and affirmative.
He kept his focus on Gerard, finding it difficult to look at Katrina or Corinne. The last thing he wanted was to see pain on the women’s faces.
“Also,” he said as he was tucking his phone back in his pocket, “there was an incident we need you to be aware of.”
Gerard was immediately shaking his head. “The only person I’m worried about right now is Dante. So your incident’ll have to wait until later.”
“The incident involves your son,” he added, his tone harder than before, not appreciating the governor giving him the brush-off regardless of the topic.
When no one spoke, Brantley continued. “This mornin’, one of my investigators called me to come over to JJ’s house to deal with an urgent matter.”
“JJ?” Katrina’s eyes widened with worry. “Is she all right?”
“She is, yes.”
“What incident? And what does it have to do with anything?” Gerard hissed, his eyes reflecting his confusion and his anger with the entire situation.
“Sir—” Brantley began heatedly but was cut off.
“Sir, last night, your son reached out to Jessica James,” Reese relayed, his tone matter-of-fact and far more calm than Brantley’s. “From her account, he was upset, lookin’ for help. We’re not certain why he reached out to her rather than one of us, or even you, but we’re lookin’ into the matter.”
Gerard’s eyes had rounded like saucers while Katrina’s face was now ashen, fear glittering in hers.
“Are you telling me…?”
“What we’re tellin’ you, sir,” Brantley stated firmly yet sympathetically, “is that we’ve spent the past few hours lookin’ into this. We were about to come over to discuss with you when Katrina received that call.”
Brantley opted not to tell them that he believed Dante was involved in his own kidnapping. Probably would get him kicked out on his ear.
“You knew?” Gerard exclaimed. “You knew and you didn’t think it was urgent enough to come right here? Who the hell do you think you are, Walker? I have every right to know—”
“Gerard,” Katrina’s voice was soft yet powerful. “They’re doin’ their jobs. It’s not our place to question their methods.”
Governor Greenwood took a deep breath, stared Brantley down.
When no one else laid into him, Brantley decided to share what he could. He explained all that they knew for fact, how Dante had called, the amputated finger, the state of JJ’s house both before and after the explosion.
“An explosion?” The governor had the decency to look contrite. “Was anyone injured?”
“No, sir. Reese, Trey, and I were the only ones there at the time, and we’d gone outside to speak with my cousin Travis.”
“Someone was after him,” Trina said, clearly processing what she’d learned. “Someone was after my son, and he went to JJ for help.”
Brantley figured that was a logical conclusion. Likely incorrect, but still logical.
“Because JJ was unable to seek help until this mornin’, we assume whoever took Dante had enough time to take him somewhere safe until they can negotiate with you.”
“But they have to come out at some point,” Corinne noted, her tone pleading. “If they want a ransom, they’ll have to come get it, right?”
“Or they’ll have us take it somewhere, leave it,” he told them, watching all three of them. “That’s why we’re here. We want to help you negotiate Dante’s safe return.”
“You think this is only about money?” Gerard asked. “Or do you think it’s retaliation against me?”
“It could be the latter, but you have to consider there were likely many opportunities for someone to take Dante if they were simply lookin’ to get back at you. What we don’t understand is why he would go to JJ. She
hasn’t spoken to him in months, and they didn’t end things on good terms.”
“You think he reached out to her because someone made him?”
More like he thought it was the best way to manipulate the situation. But Brantley kept that to himself and said, “It’s a good possibility.”
“Where’s JJ now?” Katrina asked, still looking shocked and stricken.
Thinking on his feet, Brantley said, “We have her lyin’ low, in the event this had somethin’ to do with her. She was attacked last night and possibly drugged, so there’s a chance she’s still in danger.”
Katrina’s hand went to her heart. “Oh, God.”
Her exclamation was cut off by the ringing of the telephone.
Trina instantly looked down at where the cordless receiver lay on the table, her hand shaking as she reached for it.
“Put it on speaker,” he instructed Katrina while at the same time he texted Luca to let him know the call was coming in.
“H-h-hello,” Katrina greeted, her voice thick with tears.
“Put the governor on the phone,” a deep, robotic voice demanded.
Brantley nodded at Gerard, approving him to answer.
“I’m here. Where’s my son?”
There was an almost demonic chuckle that sounded thanks to the voice synthesizer they were using. “I had a feeling you would follow instructions.”
“I’m here,” Gerard repeated. “Let me talk to my son.”
“Uh-uh-uh. Not until I get the money.”
Brantley glanced at Reese, wondering if they’d already discussed an amount and they simply weren’t privy to it.
“How much do you want?”
Well, that answered that question.
“I think one million will be good.”
Gerard looked up at him and Brantley mouthed, “Proof of life.”
“I need to speak to Dante first. I’ll get your money,” he tacked on quickly, “but I need to know Dante’s alive.”
“Oh, he’s alive. In a little bit of pain, but he’s alive.” Another demonic laugh.
Katrina sobbed in response and Corinne held her mother tighter.
“Let me talk to him.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands,” the caller countered.
Gerard’s eyes were pleading when he looked up at Brantley this time. He mouthed the words again. They had to have proof of life before they could agree to any demands.
“How do I know you haven’t”—Gerard swallowed hard, his eyes slamming closed as he spit out the rest of the words—“killed him yet?”
“Fine.”
There was some rustling, and a second later, Dante’s pained voice came on the phone.
“Mom? Dad?” His words were slurred, and Brantley didn’t think it was all for show.
“Dante!” Katrina cried out.
“Are you all right?” Gerard asked, keeping his cool. “Have they hurt you?”
“I’m okay, Dad.”
“That’s enough!” the original caller shouted, clearly having taken the phone back. “Now you’ve got two hours to get me the money.”
Brantley shook his head, then mouthed for him to ask for more time.
“I…” Gerard inhaled. “It’ll take me longer to get that much money together. It’s a holiday. The banks are all closed.”
“Good point.”
Brantley shot a look at Reese. Seriously? The guy sounded sincerely baffled, as though hadn’t considered today was a holiday. Who the fuck was this idiot?
“I’ll get it, I swear to you,” Gerard added in a rush. “I just need a little time.”
“So you can get it today?”
Brantley was dumbfounded by this true moron. How the fuck did he get through the day on his own? Clearly not a criminal mastermind.
“I can, yes,” Gerard blurted.
Brantley closed his eyes so the governor couldn’t see him rolling them. They could’ve bought time until tomorrow if he hadn’t said that.
“When can you get it?”
Gerard looked up at him and Brantley held up four fingers.
“Four hours.”
“Fine, but it’ll cost you. The price has gone up to two million,” the caller huffed. “Two mil in four hours. You better have it.”
“I will. Where do you want me to bring it?”
Another chuckle and this time Brantley glanced at Reese. He saw in his eyes the same morbid curiosity. Who the hell had Dante gotten to help him with this plan? Whoever it was … they were about as smart as a box of rocks.
“I’ll call you with instructions in four hours.”
The call ended abruptly.
Instantly Reese was making a call, most likely to Luca to see if he managed to get the trace.
“What do we do now?” Katrina asked, getting to her feet.
Brantley moved closer to the family. “Right now, I’ve got my entire team lookin’ at this. Give me a little time to work it.” He looked at Gerard. “I want Trey to stay here with y’all, and I’ll keep you updated when I have something. You bought us a few hours, and we’ll use ’em wisely.”
“What about the money? It’s not like we’ve got that kind of cash. Investments, sure.”
Although he had no intention of letting the Greenwoods hand over that kind of money, he figured it would give them something to do. “Figure out where it’ll come from, and I’ll let you know.”
*
Dante glared at Marcus when the call disconnected.
“Two million,” he snapped. “We agreed we’d ask for one.”
Marcus’s grin was pure evil. “My price went up.”
“They don’t have that kinda money,” he argued.
“Well, they better take out a loan. That or they’ll never see their sweet little boy again.”
“Didn’t you hear him? It’s a holiday.”
Marcus shrugged. “They do it in the movies all the time. I’m sure your dear old dad will figure it out.”
Not for the first time since they’d made this arrangement, Dante felt real fear. This time he feared for his own safety. He got the feeling Marcus was willing to sacrifice him for money. Which meant, if his parents did fork over two mil, Marcus was going to take it and split. But probably not until he’d killed Dante first.
Marcus let out an evil laugh. “You should see your face right now. Looks like you might piss your pants. You scared, Dante?”
He schooled his expression, watching and wondering how the hell he was going to get himself out of this mess.
Chapter Nineteen
After giving his statement to Sheriff Endsley and promising Brantley he’d keep his nose out of the investigation, Travis played the dutiful husband for the majority of the day, ringing in the new year in the best way possible, spending time with Kylie, Gage, and the kids.
They’d started off with lunch as a family, then watched a movie with Kate, who was back on board with the idea that Frozen was the greatest movie of all time. At six years old, he could see how she might think that. Travis would admit, he hadn’t minded the animated singalong. The first time. The six or seven dozen times after had been hell.
After the movie, he’d played a couple of rounds of video games with four-year-old Kade, who would be content with a controller in his little hand all day if they’d let him.
He’d then built a block fort with Haden, who was two and a half but, based on his little attitude, believed he was five. Moving on from that, he’d spent the better part of an hour with three-year-old Avery, coloring pictures of Disney princesses.
Plus he’d managed to spend some quality time with nineteen-month-old Maddox, who was content to put his chubby little legs to use by wobbling nonstop from one end of the house to the other.
Being here with them wasn’t a hardship by any means. In fact, Travis considered himself truly blessed. He had the greatest roles life could offer: husband to both a beautiful, amazing woman and a ridiculously sexy man, as well as father to five
wonderful kids. Some would probably say he had more than he deserved, and he wouldn’t have an argument for that.
However, every time he sat down to enjoy that little bit of family time, it felt as though he was sitting on pins and needles, his entire body eager to move, to do something to eliminate the noise brewing in his head. As much as he loved his wife, his husband, his children, Travis wanted to contribute to the hunt for Juliet Prince. Regardless of whether she was responsible for what had happened to JJ, she needed to be found. Dead or alive, he no longer cared, as long as she was no longer a threat to his family.
And as of an hour ago, Brantley had confirmed that this was a legit kidnapping, one that had resulted in a two-million-dollar ransom for Dante Greenwood’s safe return. He had also informed him that Juliet Prince was not part of that plan, but no one seemed to have an answer for who lured Travis over to that house. They only knew that it wasn’t JJ.
Was he disappointed that this incident wasn’t spearheaded by Juliet Prince? Yeah, he figured he was. While he didn’t wish harm on anyone, he figured the only way he was going to get any sort of closure was for the woman to make another move. She would. He knew that much.
Which, for him, meant that crazy, psycho bitch was out there waiting, probably watching, preparing to pounce. The very reason Travis was in his office, scouring the internet, looking for anything and anyone who could help him find her.
And yes, he’d gone back on his promise to Gage. But in his defense, he’d been on his best behavior for the past three weeks, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t allow this to fuck up his relationship with his family. Not this time. But he couldn’t sit on his hands any longer. Not if he was expected to maintain his sanity.
His cell phone rang, the sound startling him enough that he flinched before glaring down at the device sitting on his desk. He saw his dad’s name and picture on the screen, so he picked it up, answered.
“Hey, Pop.”
“How’s it goin’? Any news on that house fire today?”
“Not yet,” he said with a sullen sigh. “Brantley’s still workin’ to figure it out.”
Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker: Off the Books Book 4) Page 22
