White Wedding

by Stacy Claflin

  He’d been so close.

  But it had all been for nothing.

  Chapter 22

  Reporters and camera crews were still waiting for Alex outside the lot. He slumped against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. It would be so easy to fall asleep in his car at the station, but he just wanted to go home. And with the media camped at the gate, that would be no simple task. He’d have to lose them before reaching his neighborhood. Assuming nobody had figured out where he lived already. With as much as their family had already been through, it was likely someone knew where their house was located.

  The thought of all that made him want to curl up in a ball and sleep in the backseat. But he couldn’t do that to his family. Zoey had been texting him since they parted at the mall. She understood why he had to stay late, but clearly wanted him home—and that was where he wanted to be, also.

  Alex shoved aside his fatigue and started the car. Made his way onto the street. Turned in the opposite direction he usually went. Kept glancing back at the rear-view mirror. Made a few more turns.

  There were at least two cars following him. Maybe three.

  He took a few more turns. The three vehicles were still behind him.

  Alex pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store and texted Zoey.

  Alex: Going 2b later than I thought.

  Zoey: Didn’t u leave work?

  Alex: Yep. Gotta lose followers.

  Zoey: They haven’t left?

  Alex: No. They want a story.

  Zoey: What’s ur plan?

  Alex: Making some stops. Trying 2 lose them.

  Zoey: Come home. They’re going 2 figure it out eventually.

  Alex: I have 2 try first. Cu soon. Love u.

  Zoey: Love u2. Hurry.

  He sent her a kissing emoji then went inside the building, glancing around the lot as he walked. Two of the cars were parked down the same row.

  Didn’t even bother to hide their intentions.

  Alex hurried inside and looked for some chocolates to bring home to Zoey and Ariana. Not that the small token could make up for everything they’d been dealing with, but maybe it would bring smiles to their faces. That was about all he could ask for at this point.

  He took his time picking out the candies then looked around as he headed for the registers. Nobody stood out, but the media knew how to blend in.

  Nearly half an hour had passed by the time he sat back in his car. The two vehicles that had followed him were still in their places. He had three missed texts. One was from Kutcher.

  News on what was wrong with Cal?

  He called the agent back. “Did you hear anything?”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Alex sat up straight. “Cal?”

  “Yes. Dead as a doornail.”

  His mind spun. “What happened?”

  “Apparent suicide.”

  “You have got to be kidding me! That man would never take his own life.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, you agree it was a hit?”

  She laughed. “There’s no chance it wasn’t. Zero.”

  Alex tried to wrap his mind around all the implications. “What now?”

  “I’m going to launch a huge investigation. The prison is trying to close it as a suicide.”

  “They honestly think Cal Jones killed himself?”

  “It would appear so. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever is behind this has someone working on the inside. And I’m going to find that someone.”

  Alex leaned back and closed his eyes, but then he bolted up. “What about Damon?”

  “Cal’s son is still missing.”

  “What does this news mean for that?”

  “That’s a good question. I’m not sure. Cal was the ringleader for this area. I still haven’t been able to figure out if the abduction was a threat to Cal or if he was behind it, trying to distract us.”

  Alex squeezed the steering wheel. “Now we’ll never know.”

  “Oh, we’ll find out one way or another. Want to go with me to the prison?”

  “Yes. When?”

  “Right now.”

  Disappointment washed through Alex. “I can’t. Not now. I’m heading home for a much-needed break. It feels like a week ago, but that whole incident at the daycare was this morning. If I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m going to pass out standing up—or worse, behind the wheel.”

  “That’s too bad. I was also thinking about stopping by his place to have a look around. Especially with his kid missing, it makes sense that something could be going on over there. Or it could be abandoned. Either way, I want to check it out.”

  Alex hesitated.

  “You can sleep on the drive down,” she said.

  He took a deep breath. “It’s tempting, but no. Let me know what you find out.”

  “Okay. Just thought I’d ask. Talk to you later.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Why are you asking me to go with you? I’m not on the case because I’m too close.”

  “That’s exactly why I want you there. We need answers, and I need someone by my side who is as adamant about getting them as me.”

  “Try Mackey. She really wants to see the ring taken down, and she’s night shift. Probably already at the station.”

  “I’ll talk to her. Thanks.” Kutcher ended the call.

  Alex stared at the phone for a minute, trying to let the news sink in. Cal was actually dead. Someone had killed him and staged it to look like a suicide.

  But who would do that? And more importantly, why? Was it someone from his crime ring? Or someone from the outside, who saw that as their only way of taking it down? The fact that Damon had gone missing made it obvious that Cal was communicating with people on the outside, whether he was behind the disappearance or it was something being used against him.

  Hopefully Cal’s supposed suicide wasn’t a sign for Damon’s abductors to kill him.

  Chapter 23

  Alex finished his triple-shot peppermint mocha and tossed the empty cup into the garbage. The barista had promised it would give him the jolt of energy he needed, but she’d been wrong. Oh so wrong.

  Not that he could blame her. He’d barely slept. Ariana had the same worries Alex did about Cal’s death negatively affecting Damon’s chances of survival. She’d cried and paced for hours, finally falling asleep after two in the morning. Alex had carried her up to her room—it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t do that—then he collapsed onto his own bed at almost three.

  Now he was running on fumes and caffeine. Never a good combination. But that was all he had, so he would make the best of it.

  “You okay?” Anderson asked.

  “Huh?” Alex turned to him.

  “You’ve been staring at the wall for the last minute.”

  “Right. Just thinking.”

  “About which case?” Anderson lifted a brow.

  Alex sighed. “Everything except the one I should be focused on. And it doesn’t help that I only got about three hours of sleep.”

  Anderson gave him a double-take. “Why so little?”

  “My daughter’s dating Cal’s son.”

  “Oh, right.” He gave Alex a sympathetic glance. “Any news on his whereabouts?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. I need to speak with Kutcher. She might know something.”

  “Has she come in this morning?” Anderson asked.

  “I don’t know. Just got in myself.”

  Anderson nodded. “Settle in and speak with the agent. Then we need to discuss our suspect.”

  Alex groaned. “Any chance you’re going to question him today?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Only if we need to bring in the bad cop. You know, someone who can make grown men cry.”

  “Like I said, next time I’m the bad cop.”

  Anderson chuckled. “Okay, we can do tha
t. Though it might make more sense to switch off depending on the age of the suspect. This is working so well because you’re dealing with a young guy. He can relate to you.”

  “So, I get the kids and you get the old dudes?”

  “Easy there.” He headed for the coffee table. “See you behind the holding room in a few.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Alex took a few minutes to look through the new paperwork on his desk. He’d have to get to that later, if there was time—a commodity that seemed to be in short supply these days. But that didn’t stop his to-do pile from growing.

  He grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to the room Kutcher had been using for an office.

  Knock, knock.

  No response.

  Alex knocked louder.

  Still nothing.

  He rapped it as hard as possible without damaging the door or his knuckles.

  Silence.

  He knocked a final time. “Agent Kutcher, I’m coming in!”

  Then he waited a few beats before entering. Papers were spread out over the tables and files were piled up. Other papers with suspects and notes were on the white boards, held up with magnets. Everything was as it should’ve been, except the agent wasn’t there.

  He looked around for a note or any other clue to where she might have gone. Back to the prison or Cal’s place? Or had she not made it back?

  Alex’s pulse picked up speed. He glanced over everything on the tables, looking for any clues. What if she’d gone to Cal’s property and run into trouble? He had been a dangerous man, and he could’ve given permission for criminals to stay there before his death. Or the people who had killed him could even be staying there.

  What if one of them decided to make an example of the agent?

  Or maybe she’d gone and found nothing, then decided to go to wherever she was staying and sleep in after a long day. That made more sense. If Alex had been smart, he’d have taken the day off. Even without having stayed up until three, nobody would blame him for taking some time to rest after the previous day.

  Alex looked around the room again, this time more curious about what she’d found. Nothing stood out as news to him. It was what he already knew.

  He eyed the closed files. Those might have something interesting, but he’d have to wait. He was jumping to conclusions thinking anything nefarious had happened to her.

  Alex closed the door behind him and knocked on the captain’s door.

  Chief Crawford looked up, frowned, then waved him in.

  Alex wanted to tell him he didn’t want to be there any more than Crawford wanted him there.

  “What do you need, Mercer?”

  Alex stepped inside and stopped without closing the door. “Have you heard from Agent Kutcher?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She was going to stop by the prison to speak with Cal last night and possibly check out his property, and I want to make sure everything went okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  Alex cleared his throat. “Well, he was the ringleader for—”

  “I know who the man was. Get to your point.”

  “She’s not here this morning, and I want to make sure nothing went wrong at Cal’s place.”

  Crawford scratched his head. “I don’t know anything about that. What time did she leave?”

  “I’m not sure. There was so much other stuff going on, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  Alex went over their conversation in his mind. “I suggested she go with Mackey. Not sure if she did or not.”

  “That would be a negative. Mackey is out with the flu.”

  Alex’s stomach dropped. “And Kutcher didn’t say anything to you about going to Cal’s property?”

  The chief shook his head. “I’d already gone home for the night.” He flipped through some papers. “I’ll look into this. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Sure.” Alex stepped out into the hall and closed the door. Maybe he was making progress with Crawford. The man had actually listened to him. Even thanked him.

  He finished his coffee and tossed the cup into the trash.

  Anderson came over. “Ready to find out what you can get out of the kid today?”

  “Not yet.”

  He arched a brow. “What’s the matter? You look worried.”

  Alex nodded. “I am. Kutcher told me she was going to check out Cal’s place last night, and she didn’t make it in here this morning.”

  Anderson looked deep in thought. “Maybe she was as tired as you look and decided to take the morning off. Or maybe she’s talking with other agents about the case. I’m sure Cal’s ‘suicide’” —he made air quotes— “has ripple effects worldwide. Especially given the arrest of that Italian kidnapper.”

  “French,” Alex corrected.

  “You’re too focused on that case—though I get why. Believe me. But let’s focus on our case. You made good progress with our suspect yesterday.”

  Alex drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. “You’re probably right. Just because she isn’t here doesn’t mean she isn’t working the case. She’s probably on a call with DC right now. I’m overtired and seeing things that aren’t there.”

  Crawford burst out of Nick’s office. He looked right at Alex. “You were right. She hasn’t checked in with her people since last night before you left.”

  Alex’s stomach twisted.

  What if she went to Cal’s place on her own since Mackey was down with the flu? But she wouldn’t do that, would she? If she was desperate enough for answers, she may very well have.

  Chapter 24

  Damon rolled over, shivered. Opened his eyes, looked around.

  Where was he? It was hard to see in the dark. There was no light from any of the nightlights.

  Then it all flooded back. He’d escaped his captors only to be brought back to the house. Everything was fuzzy after being thrown back into the room.

  He rubbed the side of his head. It was tender. He must’ve hit it at some point. Out in the woods? When they got back?

  The men had roughed him up and threatened him as they dragged him back to the house. Damon had struggled against them and fought back as best he could, but he was no match for three professional criminals.

  But he had been a match for one of them. He’d gotten past him and escaped into the woods. If he’d done it once, he could do it again. Might have to get more creative, because now they’d be expecting it—they’d be dumb not to. But he was going to get out or die trying.

  The days of him being pushed around were over.

  He rose and stretched. Muscles ached, bruises throbbed, head pounded. All proof of life. He’d stood against his abductors. Gave them a good fight. The only reason they won—this time—was because they outnumbered him. He was equal to each of them individually in strength.

  Next time, he would outwit them. Now he knew what he was against.

  Damon shivered again. He looked around to see if the blankets he’d found were still on the ground. Or had he put them away? It was all such a blur.

  He crawled over to the open boxes. They looked untouched. Maybe his captors hadn’t noticed them. Books lay sprawled around, but there were no blankets. He opened a box that was set to the side, found the blankets, pulled out the top one, and wrapped it around himself.

  After a few minutes, he was no warmer. Still shivering, he grabbed another and pulled it up to his chin. It smelled of his mom’s perfume. A lump formed in his throat.

  This was why he hated being alone with his thoughts. It was one reason he threw himself into studying. When he was focused on quadratic equations or ancient history, he didn’t have to think about his own history—or present. Schoolwork pulled him away from thoughts of a mom he would never see again and a dad who would never view him as good enough.

  But now things were better. Well, not now, but his life outside this God-forsaken house was better. Ariana loved and believed in him. Her dad did
too, and offered plenty of encouragement. His foster parents appreciated him. The kids in the study group looked up to him.

  Somehow, things had managed to turn around for him even though not everything had changed. The jocks at school still despised him, and his dad would never be proud of him. But he didn’t need them, didn’t need their approval.

  Damon got another whiff of the perfume and sighed. It was maddening that a scent could stick around so long. He wanted to put her out of his mind. Not her, but the pain of losing her. It had been too much to bear for so long.

  Was it something he needed to face now, since he was in a different place in life? It wasn’t like there was much else to focus on at the moment. Other than getting out, of course. But he had nothing, short of finding the key to the door. And there had to be nearly thirty boxes stacked up around the room.

  He’d made it through two boxes.

  Damon was too cold to do anything at the moment. Despite the two blankets, he still shivered. The temperature hadn’t been a problem before. Had his captors figured out a way to turn off the heat to the basement?

  He’d lived there for years and didn’t even know how to do that. There had always been one central unit for the entire home. And that had always been another point of contention between him and his dad. They had never been able to agree on the setting, but his dad had won each time. Of course. Damon only ever got to pick when his dad had been out of town.

  He sighed. Why was he thinking about all this stuff that didn’t matter? He needed to figure a way out. Reminiscing over his parents wasn’t doing him any good. Not when his life depended on escaping.

  Damon closed his eyes and thought about his options. There were only two that would work—finding the key or overpowering one of the kidnappers again. And the second one was unlikely. They were going to be more careful from here on out.

  That meant he needed to get to work and go through each box. It might take a long while, but he had nothing other than time. He just needed to warm up.

  After a few minutes, he was still shivering so he grabbed a third blanket and pulled it on top of the other two. This one brought a whiff of cologne. But it wasn’t Dad’s brand.