Starting Over (Treading Water Trilogy)

by Force, Marie

  The aide disappeared down the long hallway. When he came back, he signaled to Brandon. “The senator will give you two minutes.”

  The Secret Service agent patted Brandon down. “What’s in the envelope?”

  “Photographs.”

  “I need to see them.”

  Brandon handed him the envelope.

  The agent flipped through the photos and then handed the envelope to Brandon with a nod to proceed.

  Brandon followed the aide to a suite at the end of the hallway. Once inside, he found Monroe in a luxurious sitting area surrounded by aides, all of them with legal-size pads on their laps.

  “State your business,” Monroe barked. “I’m in a meeting.”

  “It’s personal. You’ll hear what I have to say, or the media will. Your choice.”

  Maybe it was the expression on Brandon’s face or perhaps it was the envelope he held in his hand, but either way, he had Monroe’s attention.

  “Give us the room.”

  Monroe’s aides got up and filed out.

  Brandon was thrown for a loop when Eleanor Monroe came into the room.

  “What’s going on, Harrison?”

  “Nothing, Ellie.” He spoke gently to her like he would to a precious child. “Go on into the bedroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “That’s okay, I think I’ll stay.”

  Shit, Brandon thought. She isn’t part of the plan. Daphne was right, though. Something was off about the dignified older woman. If he were being unkind, he would say there was a crazy look in her eyes.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” Harrison Monroe demanded.

  “My name is Brandon O’Malley.” He knew the Secret Service agent would give them his name if he didn’t. “Daphne Flemming is my fiancée, and I’m about to adopt your granddaughter.”

  Eleanor gasped.

  “So here’s the deal. Call off your thugs, and leave us alone. Any chance you had at having a relationship with that child ended the day you tried to snatch her away from her mother. Am I clear?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Monroe said, looking baffled. “We’ve never tried to take her from her mother. All we’ve ever wanted was to see her. Our son is dead, and your fiancée has denied us his child for five years.”

  “Don’t give me that crap. You know why your son is dead—and how he really died. You want to take that child and use her like you did your son for your own political gain. So you can save the poor deprived grandfather act. Call off the dogs, or the contents of this envelope will be sent by overnight mail to every media outlet in the country. Your political career will be over.” Brandon put the envelope on the table in front of Monroe and turned to leave.

  “What’s she like?” Eleanor asked. “Michaela.”

  Turning back to her, Brandon bit back the urge to tell her off. “She’s the best person I’ve ever known. Stay away from her, or I’ll make you both very sorry.”

  He was on a flight back to Boston two hours later.

  The first thing Brandon did after he returned home from St. Louis was buy three airline tickets to San Francisco for the following weekend so Daphne could see her family for the first time in five years. They had a joyous four-day reunion with her parents, her sister, her brothers, and their families. Relieved of her terrible burden, Daphne met her nieces and nephews for the first time, and Mike discovered a whole new group of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents who were thrilled to see her—and spoil her.

  On Brandon’s first day back to work after the trip to California, the restoration arm of O’Malley & Sons went into business by tearing out Joe Coughlin’s kitchen. Brandon was pleased with the group of veteran employees who’d chosen to work with him. Included among them was Bob Simms, one of the two men Brandon had nearly dropped the gravel on when he was drinking.

  Brandon was in high spirits when he drove home from the most satisfying day he’d had in nearly seventeen years with the company. His new crew, infused with the enthusiasm that came from having a say in where they worked, had gelled exactly the way Brandon had hoped they would.

  He pulled in next to Daphne’s car and dodged the sprinkler when he picked up Mike’s bike from the driveway and leaned it against the garage door.

  The smell of something burning hit Brandon the minute he went in through the open front door.

  “Daph? Mike? I’m home.” He went into the kitchen to turn off the heat under chicken that had burned in the pan. Daphne’s purse and cell phone were sitting on the table next to her car keys. “Daphne?” he called again before he went out to the backyard to see if they were in the garden, but there was no sign of them.

  He went back inside and called for them again. One of Daphne’s ceramic lamps had toppled off a table in the living room and smashed to pieces on the wood floor. As Brandon studied the broken lamp, a cold, hard blast of fear struck his heart.

  “Daphne!” He ran into his bedroom, but they weren’t there. Finding Brandon the Bear on the floor at the door to Mike’s room, Brandon somehow knew his worst nightmare had come true. Monroe had found them, and they were gone.

  Chapter 34, Day 170

  “Nine one one, please state your emergency.”

  “I need to report an abduction.”

  “Please verify your name, address, and phone number.”

  Brandon rattled off the information robotically.

  “Who’s been abducted, sir?”

  “My fiancée and her daughter.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Daphne and Michaela Van Der Meer. Michaela goes by Mike.”

  “How old are they?”

  “My fiancée is thirty-one, and her daughter’s six.”

  “How can you tell they were abducted?”

  “Because they were! Send some cops over here right now!” As he hung up the phone, helpless rage and overwhelming fear flooded through him like a tidal wave.

  When he’d recovered the ability to breathe, he picked up the phone again.

  “Colin,” he said when his brother answered.

  “Brand? What’s the matter?”

  “They’re gone.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  “Daphne and Mike. Monroe’s got them.”

  Colin gasped. “I’m on my way.”

  “Col,” he said before his brother could hang up. “Don’t tell Mum. I told her he’d have to kill me to get to them.” He finally broke down. “I didn’t keep them safe. I left them here alone, and he took them.”

  “I’m coming, Brandon. I’ll be right there.”

  The cops arrived first.

  “I’m Detective Russell. This is my partner Officer Hargraves. You reported an abduction?”

  Brandon stepped aside to let them in. He quickly filled them in and showed them the burnt pan, the broken lamp, Daphne’s purse and keys, and the bear Mike never would’ve left behind. “They were taken from here under duress.”

  “You expect us to believe that Harrison Monroe, the candidate for vice president of the United States, orchestrated the abduction of your fiancée and her daughter?” Russell asked, his expression rife with skepticism.

  “That’s exactly what I expect you to believe. Contact my attorney, Alan St. John in Dennis. He’s been handling our efforts to get rid of the Monroes. He’ll confirm everything I’ve told you.” Brandon gave them Alan’s number, and the younger officer went outside to call him. “While you’re dicking around thinking I’m lying, they’re getting farther away with my family.”

  “Give us a minute to confirm what you’ve told us. Put yourself in our shoes, Mr. O’Malley. It sounds pretty far-fetched.”

  “It’s not,” Colin said as he arrived with Meredith. “If they’re not here with my brother, the only other place they’d be is with Harrison Monroe and his wife—and they’re with them against their will.”

  The younger officer came back in and nodded to his partner.

  “I told you,” Brandon said.


  “We’ll issue an alert for the child, but we can’t do anything about your fiancée until she’s been missing for twenty-four hours.” Detective Russell gestured for his partner to go ahead and put out the alert.

  “By then she could be dead.” Brandon ached at the very thought of it. “They aren’t interested in Daphne. They want Mike.”

  Colin put his hands on Brandon’s shoulders. “Don’t think that way, Brandon.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Brandon cried. “She’s kept their grandchild from them for five years. They hate her. It would be nothing to them to have her killed to get her out of their way. For Christ’s sake, they turned their son’s suicide into a car accident. What would stop them from disposing of his uncooperative wife?”

  Declan, Jessica, Erin, and Tommy came rushing through the front door. Erin, who was in tears, threw herself into Brandon’s arms. “We’re going to find them, Brand.”

  Brandon sank into the warm comfort of his sister’s embrace.

  “Did you and Daphne ever discuss what she would do if this happened?” Declan asked.

  Brandon nodded. “She promised she’d call me the minute it was safe.”

  “Do you have a recent photograph of the child?” Detective Russell asked.

  Brandon went into Mike’s room and brought back the photo album from what she referred to as “the summer of fun.” He flipped it open to the first page and withdrew a photo from Mike’s birthday. She had her arms around him and Daphne, and her toothless grin hit him like a shot to the heart. He sat down hard with his head in his hands as sobs rattled through him.

  Erin wrapped her arms around him and held him. She took the photo and handed it to the detective.

  “Find them,” Brandon whispered. “Please find them.”

  The cops asked them to wait outside for two long hours while crime scene experts scoured the house for evidence, but they found nothing they could use to locate Daphne and Mike.

  Alan arrived as the cops were leaving. “They’ve called in the FBI, which is routine in child abduction cases.” He shook hands with Brandon’s brothers, whom he’d met at Mike’s birthday party.

  “Monroe has an alibi,” Brandon said. “But that’s no surprise. It’s not like he’d come here and snatch them himself.” He stood up. “I’m going to San Francisco. They’ll take them there.”

  “They’re getting a warrant to search the Monroe’s house in San Francisco,” Alan said. “There’s nothing you can do out there that’s not already being done.”

  “Where’s the wife?” Brandon asked. “Eleanor?”

  “Campaigning with him in Texas,” Alan said.

  “Alan’s right, Brand,” Colin said. “The best thing you can do is sit tight and let the cops do their jobs. You need to be here if Daphne calls.”

  “She’d call my cell,” Brandon argued. “Mike would, too. I made a game out of getting her to memorize the number, just in case.”

  “What if they call you from somewhere other than California?” Dec said. “Then you’d have to waste time flying all over the place.”

  “So I’m supposed to just sit here and do nothing?”

  “For right now,” Alan said. “They’re Mike’s grandparents. They’re not going to harm her.”

  “What about Daphne?” Brandon asked. “What’ll they do with her?”

  The question hung in the air because no one had the answer.

  Brandon spent most of that long night pacing. When he wasn’t pacing, he stared at his home and cell phones, willing one of them to ring.

  The others insisted on staying, and Meredith and Jessica got busy in the kitchen. Despite their encouragement, Brandon couldn’t eat anything. What he really wanted was a drink—a good strong shot of whiskey to take the edge off the gnawing, sickening panic.

  “Why don’t you try to get some rest, Brandon?” Alan asked just after three. The others were sacked out on sofas and chairs. “You won’t be any good to them if you’re exhausted.”

  “I couldn’t sleep, but you should go home.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’ve been a good friend. Thank you.”

  “You need to be very careful this doesn’t cause a crisis in your recovery,” Alan said.

  “I was just thinking about how much I’d like a shot of whiskey.”

  “Do you remember the story I told you about the night my son got sick with meningitis?”

  Brandon nodded.

  “And do you remember what I did instead of drinking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like to pray, Brandon?”

  “If you think it’ll help.”

  “The only thing I know for sure is the whiskey won’t help.”

  Brandon took the phones and followed Alan outside to the deck.

  They sat together at the table, and Alan bowed his head. “Dear God, we ask you to watch over Daphne and Mike and keep them safe.”

  Brandon swiped at the tears that rolled down his face as he listened to Alan’s quiet words and added his own silent plea that someone up there would hear their prayers.

  By five in the morning, Brandon was dead on his feet, but still he paced. His cell phone rang at five fifteen, and he lunged for it.

  “Brandon!” Mike said frantically.

  “I’m here, baby. Where are you?”

  “Brandon!” she cried again.

  A fierce struggle ensued, and he heard a man yelling in the background. Mike was crying when the connection went dead.

  “Mike,” he wailed, dropping to his knees and dissolving into tears.

  Awakened by the phone, Erin, Colin, and Declan surrounded him on the floor.

  “What did she say?” Colin asked.

  “Just my name. Twice. But she was crying and someone was yelling in the background.”

  “Oh, my God,” Erin whispered.

  Declan reached for the phone to check the caller ID. “Crap, it’s a private line, and the call was too short to trace.”

  “What am I going to do?” Brandon cried. “I have to do something.”

  His brothers each put an arm around him and helped him to his feet. “You need to lie down for a bit, Brand,” Colin said. “You’ve got to get some sleep.”

  Brandon had no choice but to let them lead him into his bedroom where they urged him to lie down. He hadn’t imagined it possible that he could sleep, but he drifted off and was beset by dreams that Mike and Daphne were just out of his reach. He would catch up to them only to have them drift away before he could get to them.

  He awoke with a start at eight when he heard Mike calling him, but it was another dream. When he remembered Mike and Daphne were gone, he rolled onto his side and moaned into the pillow that held Daphne’s scent.

  Aidan and Clare arrived at nine, fresh off their honeymoon. “We just got home to Rhode Island last night and got your message,” Aidan said to Colin. “What can we do?”

  Colin shook his head. “We’re just waiting, hoping Daphne will call. The cops have a nationwide alert out for Mike, but so far there’s been no sign of her.”

  “What about the Monroes?” Aidan asked.

  “Both have airtight alibis,” Declan said.

  “If they want Mike, won’t one of them eventually lead us to her?” Clare asked.

  Dec nodded. “That’s the hope. The cops are all over them.”

  “Monroe must be loving that in the midst of the campaign,” Aidan said.

  “Who gives a shit about him or his campaign?” Brandon said when he came into the room. “It’s time to blow him out of the water. Let’s get those pictures of him and his mistress out to the media.”

  “You don’t want to do that, Brandon,” Alan said. “If he’s at all unstable and you anger him, you could be putting them in danger.”

  “Don’t you mean more danger?” Brandon asked as he fell into a chair.

  Aidan squatted down in front of him. “You have to hang in there, Brand. We’re going to find them.”

&
nbsp; Brandon could barely speak over the panic that gripped him. “What if we don’t? What if I never see them again?”

  Aidan squeezed his brother’s arm. “That’s not going to happen.” He turned to Alan. “What’s the story with that PI who was working for Daphne and Brandon? Is there anything he can do?”