30. Jack
30
JACK
I pace the length of Sam’s office, my eyes darting toward the dayroom where Quinton is. Hours have passed, and the weight of responsibility swamps me as I consider the boy, who is still without his mother.
“He could be anywhere,” Sam sighs. He stands right next to me, and I can see the worry lines on his face deepening.
“It’s got to be somewhere sentimental to him. He’s the kind of man who enjoys playing games to make a point,” I explain, racking my brain to uncover what that ‘play’ and ‘point’ could be this time. “When he devised that twisted plan to ransom Quinton, manipulating Ava into giving up custody, it may have seemed like a game, but it wasn’t. I genuinely think he wanted Quinton for himself, not to fulfill his role as a father. He didn’t care about his own flesh and blood!”
“So he’s just worried about his succession plan?”
“Maybe. But I bet he has a different motive this time. When Willem was just six years old, his mother abandoned him. Now that Ava has also left him, it appears to be the perfect chance for him to seek his revenge—not only against Ava but also, symbolically, against his lost mother. ”
Sam frowns. “It’s the worst kind of revenge, with deep roots from a time when you can barely tell right from wrong.”
This makes the battlefield even more treacherous. But before anything can begin, I have to know where it’s going to take place.
“Do you know where Willem and Ava met?” Sam asks.
“Sacramento, the DOJ headquarters. So it’s unlikely he’s taking her there.”
“How about his house?”
“Maybe,” I hum, tinkering with the idea.
My brother turns around and sits behind his desk, resting his chin on his hand. “Too predictable, you reckon?” he guesses.
“Everything revolved around him, from his company logo to every possession he owned. His Beverly Hills mansion was not a home. Everything felt staged. He had this giant exhibition of his inventions, those chips, which all looked the same to me. There were also numerous awards and memorabilia, even his pictures with Ava and Quinton, which were the size of paintings in an art gallery. It all felt so symbolic—or maybe just artificial, like the AI business. The only thing that felt human in there was Quinton’s room. I’m sure Ava decorated it.”
“Anywhere in Montana is symbolic for him?” Sam asks.
I shake my head, uncertainty gnawing at me. “When he called me at the park, he arranged for a random kid to deliver the picture of the basement. He made a joke about being out in the Atlantic Ocean. But I knew he was nearby.”
As I say it out loud, I think about the appearance of the boy, making me involuntarily scoff. Sam’s gaze becomes sharp, his eyes honing in on my every expression as if he can read the story of my abduction etched on my face. “What are you thinking, Jack? ”
“That boy who gave me the photo. He was about my age when I was taken. Skinny, pale, and he didn’t say anything.”
“It’s a sick kind of symbolism,” Sam sneers.
“I believed Willem was in Helena then, but I can’t think of any place that would particularly appeal to his ego. Well, Ava said it was more than ego. Perhaps it’s just his way of life—nothing matters except himself.”
I join my brother at his desk, sitting opposite him, recalling the event at the safe house this morning. Elmo was acting weird. Quinton spilled oatmeal all over himself, I changed him, then Ava disappeared into thin air.
Was it Willem who took her? Would that symbolize that nowhere is safe for her?
Maybe.
But why didn’t he try to take Quinton, too?
Why did he offer me information about my kidnapper in the first place?
I believe Quinton is no longer his main concern. He will eventually attempt to take the boy away, but for now, his primary objective is to make Ava suffer an immediate consequence. What could be more magnificent than causing her to lose me in the very location that represents his triumph?
An urgent knock on the door interrupts my train of thought.
“Jack, Sam,” Cora-Lee says quickly. “I just heard from Gerrard, the pilot of our private jet.”
“He knew we weren’t flying, didn’t he?” I ask.
“Yes, he’s fully aware of the situation, and he’s been helping us. A plane took off from a private airstrip in Wolf Creek. There was nothing extraordinary there, but apparently, the owner of the plane was initially concerned about one of the passengers—a woman who looked heavily drugged. The two guys with her kept insisting the flight was for a medical emergency that only her specialist could handle, so he let his pilot fly them.”
“Let me guess. Her so-called specialist is in L.A.?” I say.
Sam’s head snaps toward me in surprise while Cora-Lee responds to me, “Uh-huh. And the plane was last seen near Van Nuys, twenty miles from L.A. There’s no sign of the pilot.”
I lock eyes with Sam, clenching a fist on his desk. “I know where Willem’s lair is.”
Sam instructs Cora-Lee, “Tell Gerrard to be on standby.”
“Righto, boss,” she answers and leaves the office.
“Do you think Quinton can stay at your house tonight?” I ask Sam.
“Of course,” he answers. “I’ll get Comet and Ben to drive the kiddo to my place. Cass will only be too happy to have him.”
Then my brother puts on his holster.
“Where are you going?” I nod at his gear.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“The hell I am!”
While I wish he was coming with me, I won’t let him take part in this rescue. He’s about to become a father again, and I cannot jeopardize anything for him or his family. “I know about it, Sam.”
He sighs, knowing what I’m referring to. “So Cass told you?”
“This isn’t your battle.”
“You’re my brother. Your battle is my battle. I won’t let you?—”
“I’m not planning to go alone,” I anticipate what he’s going to say. Then I request, “Give me Tyler.”
Sam reluctantly puts his holster away. “All right. He’ll meet you at the airport. ”
“We’ve got this. I’ll keep you posted.”
He pats my shoulder, then pulls me into a hug. “Bring her back.”
I nod firmly. She’s a mother held captive by a deranged man. Whatever it takes, I’ll bring her home.