Chapter 26
Sophia ignored the cat carrier that Mason dropped inside Clint and Lydia’s doorway. That would be for Lazu to investigate.
“Anything?” he asked as he strode towards her.
“Nothing yet,” Sophia said.
He pulled her into his arms. She shut her eyes tight, breathing him in. Pretending, for just a moment, that everything was right in their world.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They walked back to the home office, his arm around her shoulders, her arm around his waist. One unit.
Rylie looked up from her laptop, and Lydia spun around on her chair, both of them concentrating on Mason and Sophia.
“Where’s Angie?” Lydia asked.
“She’ll be here in a second. She’s checking in with Beth on Declan and Nora.”
Lydia nodded.
Sophia understood. She and Rylie had already talked to their children who were at Beth’s house. They needed the connection.
“Mason,” Rylie started, “we think we have something. It was buried down through a hell of a lot of corporations and LLCs, but it’s a defunct winery in Temecula.
It was owned by a man who did business with an American who did business with Ibrahim Sula back in 2022.
He died. Ibrahim had a small stake in the winery.
It’s a longshot, but it’s an empty property in Temecula.
That, and,” she brought up the photo of Kayla, “this looks like a stone floor.”
“Like in a fermentation room.” Sophia felt real hope spread through her, and Mason’s grip tightened on her shoulders.
“I’ll take it. What else have you got?” he asked Rylie.
“It used to be a big operation. It was hit hard by Covid. Nobody’s bought it, so it’s sitting out there, unoccupied.”
“Do you have blueprints?” Mason asked.
“Not yet,” Lydia answered. “Still working on that. I’ve got aerial from Google Maps. I was able to pull up their archived website, so we’ve got an idea of what it looked like. We’ve got interior and exterior shots.”
“It’s seventy acres of vines,” Rylie said. “There are two main buildings, and the picture of Kayla is an interior shot.”
“Which building?” Mason asked.
Lydia pulled up the archived website on her screen and turned it toward him.
“The main building is the tasting room and event space.
Big windows, high ceilings. Not where you put someone you don't want found.” She scrolled.
“The second building is the production facility. Stone construction, built into a hillside for temperature control. Barrel storage underneath.”
“The stone floors,” Sophia said. “Just like the picture.”
Rylie looked at her. “Yeah.”
Nobody said anything for a moment. They didn't need to.
Mason leaned over Lydia's screen, studying the exterior shots. “One road in?”
“One paved road. There may be service tracks through the vines but I can't confirm from what I've got.”
“Sight lines?”
“The production building sits lower than the main building. If you're coming in on the road, you'd be visible from the upper structure for about a quarter mile.”
“So he'd see us coming,” Mason said.
“If he's watching,” Rylie said. “If he's even there.”
“He's there.” Mason straightened up. “He wants to be close. Clint said it. He's been in the country for months. He didn't come all this way to watch from a hotel in Beverly Hills.” He looked at the Google aerial image. “He's there.”
Sophia watched him work through it. It was familiar.
The way his eyes went quiet and specific when he was mapping an approach, calculating distances, reading terrain from a photograph the way other men read a room.
She had always found it reassuring. She found it more reassuring now than she ever had.
Lazu barked once. It was a friendly bark.
Then she heard Angie coming through the front door.
“Beth says the kids are good. Declan built some kind of fort.
Nora's pretending she's too old for it and then apparently sneaking in when she thinks nobody's watching.” She dropped into a chair and looked at the screens. “What did I miss?”
“Defunct winery in Temecula,” Rylie said. “Tied to Sula through about six layers of corporate structure.”
“I'll take it,” Angie said, which was exactly what Mason had said, and Sophia felt something in her chest loosen just slightly at the familiarity of it.
“We need blueprints,” Mason said to Lydia.
“Working on it. I’m going through old building inspection filings. I need a little more time.”
“How much time do we have?” Angie asked.
“He'll make contact again,” Mason said. “He's not done. The text was the opening move. He wants engagement.” His jaw tightened. “After all,” he looked at Sophia, “he wants a trade.”
She looked into his eyes. “No he doesn’t,” she whispered.
The room went quiet.
Mason stared at her.
“That’s what he said. The text said, Trade. You for her.”
“That was a lie,” she whispered. “You know it, Mason.”
“Soph—”
“Mason.” She kept her voice level. She didn’t know how, but she did. “He doesn’t want to trade you for Kayla. He wants to kill her in front of you.”
He broke. Right there. In front of her “Baby—”
“I know you didn’t want to tell me. But you have to. I have to know. I need to know. You can’t shield me from this. I have to know the mission. I have to.”
He grabbed her into his arms. So tight.
Their hearts beat together. Then she pulled away and looked up at him.
“What do we do when he contacts you?”
Mason pulled back and looked at her. Whatever had broken a moment ago had been put back, not hidden, just held.
She could see both things at once, the father who had just heard the worst possible truth spoken out loud, and the operator who was already moving past it because moving past it was the only way to get their daughter home.
“We give him what he expects,” Mason said. “He expects a father who got that text and is desperate, scared, and making bad decisions.” He looked around the room. “So that's what he gets.”
“Proof of life,” Rylie said from her laptop. “Not a photo. You want a video. It stalls him, and we have a better chance of seeing if we’re right. If it’s the winery.”
“Or something that tells us we're wrong about the winery,” Lydia said. She didn't look up from her screen. “Better to know.”
“We're not wrong,” Mason said.
“No. We’re not wrong.” Lydia agreed.
“Blueprints?” Mason asked.
“Something resembling blueprints,” was Lydia’s frustrated response.
“County records are a mess. The original construction was in 1987, there've been four permit applications since then, two of them were approved and one of those was never completed. What I’ve got might not match what's actually there.”
“What about personnel?” Angie asked. She was looking at the aerial image on Rylie's screen. “Seventy acres. Two main structures. We have no idea how many people he brought.”
“Minimum two at the site,” Mason said. “And he'll have eyes on the road.”
“Could be four, could be ten,” Rylie said.
“Not ten.” Angie said. “That would look odd for a businessman to be carting around more muscle than ten men, I don’t care how much he’s worth. He won’t want to attract attention.”
“We plan for high numbers,” Mason said. “We don't go in assuming light.”
“We can't go in at all until the men land,” Rylie said. She said it carefully, watching Mason.
He didn't argue. Which told Sophia exactly how seriously he was taking the threat. Any other op, he'd have been already moving.
“What about the road?” Angie asked. “You said visible for a quarter mile on approach.”
“I go in where I’m invited, you and the men go in through the vines.”
Sophia watched Mason look down at his phone… again.
Lydia continued to parse through the blueprints on her screen.
Rylie and Angie were looking over the Google aerial footage of the vines, as well as from the old websites.
Mason’s head shot up. “Drake’s calling. I’m not answering. Someone call him.”
“I’ve got Clint,” Lydia shouted. “They’re on the ground. They’ll be here in thirty-five minutes.”
“I’ve got an incoming call from an unknown number,” Mason said.
The room went quiet.
He answered and put it on speaker.
Lydia made a motion for Mason to keep the call going as she would attempt to trace it.
“Sula?” Mason answered.
There was a pause.
“You’ve figured out who I am. Good. That makes this easier. You know what you need to atone for.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“We don’t have time for that now. I’ll wait until we’re together.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I have proof of life. I want a video.”
“I have something better,” Ibrahim said.
There was a longer pause.
“Dad?” Kayla’s voice was hoarse but unmistakable.
“Honey, are you all right?”
“Dad! I’m—” Her words ended with a shriek.
Sula’s voice came back on the line. “Enough of that. There’s your proof. Wait for my directions.”
The call went dead.