Chapter Ten #2
He hadn’t wanted to mention this earlier, but now they were heading out to God knew where, it’d become urgent.
“I’m worried about my father,” he said, focussing on the icy road in front of the windshield.
They were following the exact route they’d taken yesterday morning, a bit of déjà vu.
“Should he have some sort of protection? A police guard maybe? Could he still be in danger?”
“I’ve thought about this too,” she replied.
“The problem is, every time I contact another officer, or ask about something to do with this case, I run the risk of letting the cat out of the bag. I can ask Tuckburg if he can put one of the junior constables on the door,” she said, uncertainty clear in her voice.
“But if I do that and questions get asked as to why he’s gone behind Dalstrom’s back…
” She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug.
“I’m also worried about my father,” she admitted.
“He’s now home alone, and whoever is on the end of those texts probably knows it.
I hope I’m just being paranoid, because now both of us have something to lose; a father who might be under threat. ”
Jiro stared at her as he digested her words.
Then he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
“This is getting more fucked up by the second. Is it worth it?” he asked.
“My father is in danger because of my brother’s stupidity,” he finally said when she continued to stare out the windshield.
“But you didn’t sign up for this. I shouldn’t be making you do this.
” He sat up straight, preparing to tell her to turn around.
“I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty,” she said.
“I told you that, so you know what is at stake. It’s a risk I’m prepared to take.
At the moment,” she clarified. “Even though you won’t give me actual details, I don’t believe that hurting my father will achieve them anything—whoever they are. Do you?”
“No,” he answered slowly. “I’m guessing the only reason you’ve been included is because they think I have some kind of connection with you.
” He hesitated slightly over the word connection.
They certainly did have a connection, but he wasn’t sure how deep it went.
She owed him nothing; technically, she was a cop doing her job.
But he owed her everything. She’d stood by him, believed him when nobody else had.
Given him a place to sleep last night. Without her input, he may not have found his father yesterday morning.
Was that why he felt this extraordinary attraction?
Because he was indebted to her? Or was it more profound than that?
Even now with everything else going on, sitting this close to her in the car, he was acutely aware of her presence.
Couldn’t help wanting to reach out and touch the side of her long, slender neck.
“I’m guessing so too. Plus, I’m a cop, so I could cause them more trouble than you on your own. I think they might be trying to get me out of the way.”
“Oh. You think?” This was a new idea that hadn’t occurred to him.
“Could Taro be the one sending these messages?” she asked suddenly.
“What? Why? That would be ridiculous,” he scoffed.
“Well, you’re not telling me why you think your father was kidnapped, even though you clearly know. So what else am I supposed to think? I heard Taro say this was his fault,” she accused. “So you can see why I might think he has something to do with it.”
“Well, he doesn’t, so you’ll have to trust me on that.
” God, this was so hard keeping it all from her.
But he’d promised Taro. Promised to let him try to sort it out his way first. But how long did he let that go on until it became obvious Taro’s plan wasn’t working?
Last night the two brothers had schemed and brainstormed and thrown ideas around, most of them ridiculous, to see what they could come up with.
Taro still thought his contact at the FBI might be able to help, but he would need to be back in America to make that connection.
Which meant they somehow needed to stall, to make the Kyodo-kai group believe he was now intimidated enough to do whatever they asked.
It wouldn’t be hard to pretend that he was distraught and terrified over how they’d targeted his family while on holiday, and that he’d learned a valuable lesson.
Taro was going to try and get in touch with Hiroshi, to see if he could pass the message on to call off whoever had attacked their father here in Sweden.
Ask for them to wait for him to get back to America, and then he would agree to all of their demands.
Hopefully, this would give them a few days to work secretly on getting the FBI onside.
And hopefully Papa would wake up, so that Taro could return to the States with his mind at ease, able to focus completely on saving their family from this complicated criminal game he’d entangled them all in.
They never discussed the other option; what if Papa didn’t wake up?
When he first found Taro missing this morning, he’d thought perhaps his brother had gone somewhere quiet to make his phone calls.
But when the text had come in, he’d been blindsided, not knowing which way to turn.
He didn’t even know if Taro had had enough time to get in touch with Hiroshi.
His first thought had been to take this to Aurora.
His justification had been, because if he did what he was told, then perhaps they could recover Taro in one piece.
But wasn’t it also really just another chance to see her again?
And did that make him a pathetic human being?
“Please, Aurora, can you trust me on this?” he asked again, more gently this time.
“I guess so,” she said at last, but the lines around her eyes hardened.
“But because you believe Taro is not involved, and if there is definitely a malicious threat out there, then I will ask Tuckburg to put a guard on your father’s room, as well as have a unit drive past my house as often as they can be spared. ”
“Good idea.” He was on board with that, and if it meant that at some stage in the near future this Tuckburg would have to reveal where his request came from, then they’d deal with it at the time.
“If I were still officially on the case, I would put a trace on the phone number that is texting you,” she muttered, almost to herself.
“But it’s a high possibility that it’s a burner, so that might be a dead end anyway, so I’ll leave it for now.
” Jiro guessed there were only so many things she could ask of this Tuckburg guy.
He wondered if things might be different if Viskten were still in town.
She might be able to call him and plead her case to get his help.
Or the opposite might occur, and he might forbid her to be involved, taking charge himself and burning all the bridges.
He didn’t know the man well enough to decide which way he would go.
He listened while Aurora made the call on her hands-free directly to Andreas Tuckburg’s private line, knowing that he probably shouldn't be privy to this call, but they had no option. Tuckburg was more than a little surprised to hear from her and also nonplussed to hear that she wanted her requests to be kept out of Dalstrom’s ear.
But he agreed in the end, perhaps because he didn’t know she’d been removed from the case yet; and she didn’t tell him.
He’d probably find out sooner or later, but hopefully by then he'd carried out her bidding.
After she ended the call, they drove in silence until they reached the same turn onto the dirt track leading to the abandoned cabin.
“I never found out who owned this land,” she said quietly.
“Maybe I should’ve researched it straight away.
It might be important. There could be a connection to the kidnapper here somewhere.
There were lots of things I should’ve done yesterday that I didn’t do.
After we rescued your father, I thought we had time.
How wrong was I?” She parked the car and turned off the engine.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said with a smile, placing his hand over hers.
He was beginning to learn that Aurora was nothing if not a perfectionist. She had very high standards, both for herself and for everyone around her.
She’d been busy yesterday, fielding all sorts of interrogation from her supervisors, then spending every other available moment with him in the hospital room waiting for his Papa to wake up, so she had plenty of excuses not to have done everything.
“You did an incredible job yesterday. We found my father, and he’s still alive; that’s the most important thing. ”
She turned to stare at him, dark eyes wide with something akin to confusion.
“Thanks,” she said at last. “I guess you’re right.
Sometimes I get bogged down in the small details and forget to look at the big picture.
” Her gaze dropped to where his hand still rested over hers on the middle console, and when she looked back up at him, the confusion had been replaced by something close to regret.
Slowly, she removed her hand. “We might as well get going.” Was he imagining it, or had she been reluctant to withdraw her hand?
Had her fingers lingered for just a second on his? Or was it just wishful thinking?