Chapter 40
When I get to Mom and Dad’s door, it’s open, and my gut clenches. What if something happened to them, too? Is the whole family under attack? I step to the side of the door, peeking in to look for enemies.
But then a caterer rushes through—another is holding the door open for them with their foot from the other side. They are taking their equipment out, since the party is winding down. My family must have left while I was in the security office.
I let out a breath in relief. Didn’t know I could be more tense right now, but here we are. I shake loose of that particular fear and trudge into the apartment. I have to see Dad before he goes to bed. Or I’ll wake him. I don’t fucking care.
Mom yawns as she passes through the hall. Then she quirks a sleepy smile at me. “I thought you and June left already.”
Do I tell her? Not yet. It’s not that I don’t trust her. It’s just that there is no time. “I need to speak with Dad. Do you know where he is?”
“His private study, I think. He likes a bit of quiet and a shower after things like this. Otherwise, he doesn’t sleep.” She gives a sheepish shrug.
“Thanks, Mom. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Anderson.” She drifts down the hall.
The private study is at the other end of the apartment, so I run. Every second lost is a second June cannot afford. I bust into the private study’s closed door, decorum be damned. “Dad, we need to talk.”
He sits in his lounge chair. It’s one of those zero gravity chairs that takes pressure off the joints. Well, I’m about to put a lot of pressure on him, so that seems appropriate. The private study has dark paneled walls and an enormous bay window overlooking the city. The city has never looked so grim from up here. But it swallowed June up, and I will never forgive Boston for that.
“What is this all about? I thought you left with June.” A puff of cigar smoke leaves his mouth and nose, and now I know the real reason Dad has his quiet time and a shower before bed.
“She was kidnapped. I want to call the police, but I wanted to speak to you first. In case you have someone you think would be better?—”
“Do not call the police,” he says mildly, before pressing a button on his chair to sit up.
“Who then?”
Watching him sit up, it’s strange. He’s not surprised or upset or even confused. Merely annoyed. “Not the police.”
“If you don’t tell me who to call, I’m calling them.”
“Put the phone down, Anderson.”
“Why?” I snap.
“Because once you involve the police, it is all out of your hands. Do you want to lose control of this situation?”
I growl, “I’m not in control of this situation!” Showing him her picture, I bark, “They are!”
His lips flatten into a perturbed line as he sighs and shakes his head, exhaling smoke like an inconvenienced dragon.
This whole thing isn’t upsetting him as much as it should. Especially considering how much he seems to like June. Why isn’t he angry? Why isn’t he on the phone to his connections right now?
Something inside of my gut twists and my mouth is dry as paper. “What do you know about this, Dad?”
“I don’t?—
“Who would do this? Why? What’s going on?” I’m shaking from anger, and I don’t want to take it out on my father, but he’s not making this easy. I need answers now.
He sighs. “Nothing is for certain until they communicate their needs. That is the way of these things. Have they?”
“No.”
“I presume you’ve reached out to them on her phone?”
“Of course.”
When he stares out the window, his voice sounds hollow. “You don’t stay on top of this business without making enemies, Anderson.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“There is no such thing as having our wealth and having clean hands. Sometimes, things get … messy.”
I am losing what little patience I had. “Explain what you’re talking about. Now.”
“We will do what we can to bring her back. I promise.”
“That is not an explanation!”
He turns to me. “Whatever you do, son, do not call the police.”
And at that moment, I know why. At least partially. It’s not to protect June. It’s to protect him. Whatever this is, it’s his fault, and he knows it. He’s done something deeply illegal, and June is paying the price for it.
Fuck that.
“Tell me what you know. Right now.”
“I’ll tell you this, she is safe. She?—”
“Does she look fucking safe to you?” I shove the phone in his face.
He sighs again. His voice is flat. “Her clothes are in place. There are no visible marks. She’s not even crying, though I imagine that is due to her fortitude and not her treatment. There are no obvious threats to her—no gun to her head, no water creeping in over the floor, etcetera. So yes, she looks fucking safe to me.”
Never in my life have I been so close to striking my father. “How the fuck can you just sit there and act like this isn’t a big deal? How are you so calm?”
He taunts, “One of us should be.”
My fist balls up without a thought, but I keep it at my side. It is all I can do to keep emotion from my voice, but if I don’t, he won’t listen to me. He’s never responded well to anything but logic or anger. “Tell me how to get her back.”
“Find your calm. If your woman can maintain her composure under her circumstances, then you should be able to as well. It’s embarrassing that you’re so hysterical?—”
“You think I give a shit about my composure right now?”
He advises, “If you do not keep your composure, Anderson, you will lose her. You will make a rash error in judgment and whoever has taken her will take advantage of that. They have the upper hand right now, it’s true. But if you rush into this, they will keep it. They have you by the balls. Don’t let them know it, or they will cut them off.”
“If the next words out of your mouth are not useful, I will call the police.”
Another sigh out of him. “The police will get her killed.”
“Who the fuck kills someone when the police are involved?”
“Very dangerous people.”
“Why is she with very dangerous people, Dad? Talk to me. Tell me what the fuck is actually going on!”
Again, he looks out the window. “No.”
Talking to him is pointless. He’s not helping. He’s stonewalling me. Why? Who knows? Doesn’t fucking matter. I have to get to June. “What the fuck ever, Dad. You won’t help me? I’ll help myself.” I turn for the door.
“Don’t forget what I said. No cops. They will get her killed.”
I whip back around to him. “From where I’m standing, it sounds like this is all your fault. Not theirs. If she dies because of something you did?—
“You’ll what? Storm into my study and act like a petulant child who got his new favorite toy taken away?”
“I’ll end it. All of it. I will destroy the firm from the ground up just to watch you suffer.”
He scoffs. “You do that, and you lose everything, too.”
“Mutually assured destruction,” I tell him simply. “So, you better get off your ass and help with this, because I’m young enough to rebuild my life and you’re not.”
“You wouldn’t dare, and even if you did, you don’t know enough about what we really do to be able to destroy us.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Dad. You do not know how much I know. Calling the police might get June killed, but I doubt the same is true of calling the IRS.”
His eyes bulge, and before he can say a word, I stomp out of his study, slamming the door behind me. It was a good bluff, if I say so myself. I do not know what Dad is really doing behind the scenes, but everyone fears the IRS, so it was a solid guess. But given his earlier intimations, it’s not just tax evasion he’s worried about.
Something else much bigger is going on, and June was taken because of it.
I march out of the apartment, ignoring the caterers as they finish the last parts of cleaning. Once I’m in the elevator, I take a breath and try to figure out my next steps. Only, nothing comes to mind other than the sight of June, tied to a wooden chair in a random basement somewhere I don’t recognize. The sight of her like that is enough to make every other thought vanish without a trace. Just like June.
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