Chapter 26
“Jesus, put your hands down. No one is kidnapping you. And put the fucking gun away,” the guy from the front passenger seat orders, confiscating the pistol from the guy in the back. The man from the front is wearing a faded ball cap with the Seahawks logo.
“Sure feels like a kidnapping,” I say, watching them all closely.
“No, my boss just wants to talk to you.”
“So he sends you three to kidnap me. Got it.”
“This isn’t a kidnapping.” Ball Cap is clearly the spokesperson.
Though I see Vincento glare at me from the rearview mirror.
“You’re really adamant that this isn’t a kidnapping. I feel like you’re protesting too much.” I know I sound like a smart-ass right now, but that happens when I’m scared. It’s a terrible defense mechanism, but remember what I said about being self-destructive?
“Jesus, you got a smart mouth,” Vincento mutters.
Another rude answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m riding a very fine line right now.
Sure, Alex knows I’ve been kidnapped, which means the whole crew now knows.
And Foxe is good enough to track me even without my phone, especially since I let it drop that Vincento the Tank is driving (though I’m pretty sure I know where they’re taking me anyway).
Instead of giving in to my impulse to talk shit, I stay quiet.
Because at the end of the day, these guys have guns.
And despite the protests, this is a kidnapping.
I try to open the back door but it seems the child lock is on. Yep, a kidnapping. They didn’t bind my hands though, so there’s still a chance I can get out of this.
The drive is way too quiet and I’m starting to second-guess my decision to get in.
I could have tried to run, but the guy next to me could have simply shot me in the back.
He’d have eventually been caught (one can only hope) and would have gone to jail.
But I’d be dead or paralyzed. And then Cara’s murder might stay unsolved—and my nieces would lose another person they love.
Screw these guys. I’ve got to survive whatever this is.
Eventually Vincento pulls into the parking lot behind Hall of Fame where I saw him just last night. I wonder if he’s thinking about hitting me with a bat. Ice slicks down my spine but I keep my game face on.
“Come on,” Ball Cap says, holding the door for me.
“Such a gentleman.” Okay, so apparently I still have a problem keeping my mouth shut. Whatever. These guys are going to kill me or they’re not. I glance around the parking lot, deciding if I should risk running.
Then Ball Cap pulls his jacket back to reveal another pistol.
“Still saying it’s not a kidnapping?” I ask.
He just shrugs and motions that I should walk through the back door of the sports bar. I’m flanked by him and Vincento, and I swear I can feel the menace rolling off him as Ball Cap opens a door into what turns out to be an office.
Vincento pushes me as I step over the threshold, taking me off guard, and I stumble into Ball Cap.
The man turns quickly but I hold my hands up and simply jerk my thumb at Vincento.
Ball Cap sighs, looks like he’s digging deep for patience. “You can wait in the hallway.”
This seems to enrage Vincento, if the bulging vein in his neck is anything to go on, but he just glares at me and steps back into the hallway.
Orson Hall (I recognize him from the short file Foxe sent me on the guy) steps into the office from another doorway, flicks his gaze over me with curiosity. Then he points at the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”
I do just that and glance around the office, trying to memorize everything about it.
I doubt it’ll come in handy later, but it’s a habit I don’t think I’ll ever shake.
Always be aware of your surroundings. One of the many things Fallon has drilled into me.
And anything can be a weapon. That was another solid lesson, and I see three potential ones right within grabbing distance.
It eases some of the tension curled inside me.
“Sloane Gala.” Orson Hall sits across from me behind his desk. It’s a weathered thing with nothing on it. There’s random sports memorabilia on the walls and a couple chairs, a small bar in one corner, but this place feels very staged. There’s nothing personal here at all.
I just watch him, since he’s simply said my name, not asked an actual question.
From the file Foxe sent me, he’s started getting involved in legit businesses over the last four years and donating to real charities.
Apparently his twelve-year-old daughter is some prodigy pianist and goes to a very expensive prep school in the area.
Foxe thinks he’s trying to clean up his life.
“You are an interesting woman,” he continues.
“Thirty-four years old, a corporate contract pilot. You’ve flown all over the world, but call Seattle home.
You’ve been sober for over fourteen years, no trouble with the law…
and last night you attacked someone three times your size with a baseball bat.
And earlier that day, you damaged an SUV’s brake lights in the middle of the day while clearly baiting the drivers. ”
I notice that he doesn’t say my SUV or get specific about who I attacked.
“Nothing to say?” he asks.
I lift a shoulder, hoping it comes off casual, but I’m very aware that he’s armed and so is Ball Cap, who’s standing guard by the door. “You kidnapped me. I figure it’s for a reason and you’ll tell me what it is.” Or he’ll just kill me, but I can’t see the purpose in that.
“Why’d you attack Vincento?” he asks.
“I didn’t attack anyone.” I straighten slightly in my seat. “I simply defended my brother-in-law from some lunatic trying to kill him.”
He watches me closely, definitely trying to figure me out. “Most people would have just called the cops if they saw someone being roughed up. Or they’d have minded their business and stayed out of it.”
“The reason the world is such a shit show is because too many people look the other way.”
“Maybe. I just find your behavior interesting.” He’s still watching me like I’m a bug, and while it’s disconcerting, I force myself not to squirm under his gaze. Finally he continues. “You know what your brother-in-law owes me?”
“Yes. And he’s selling his beach house to get it.
” There’s no sense in pretending I don’t know who he is when his guys will have already told him what I said over the phone.
According to Foxe, Ethan really has had the beach house on the market for months, and the relief I feel at knowing he isn’t lying is overwhelming.
“But for some reason, your guy decided to beat the shit out of him. That’s bad business. ”
His jaw ticks once. “Ethan stopped by here last night. And whatever went down, I have no knowledge of it.”
He’s definitely careful about what he’s saying. Maybe I’m wrong, but it kinda sounds like he didn’t okay Vincento roughing up Ethan. “Okay, so why am I here?”
“I just wanted to meet you.”
I blink at him. “What? Why?”
“People don’t surprise me often. What you did yesterday with the hammer was bold. And then following your brother-in-law here last night…” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
He looks like he’s going to continue, but Ball Cap interrupts. “Someone’s here for her.”
Finally. I stand, knowing that Alex, Fallon, and possibly Foxe are here. At least I know Gideon isn’t with them. He’s still on a contract somewhere in Panama. I don’t think I can deal with his cheery ass today.
To my surprise, Detective Garcia strides in, his expression dark—and then relieved once he spots me. Also to my surprise, his weapon is not drawn, and I’m wondering how he knew I was here.
His gaze flicks between me and Orson Hall—who has his hands in plain view on top of the desk.
“Can I help you, Detective?” Hall’s voice is pleasantly neutral.
“Just stopping by to try some of your wings. Everything good?” He focuses on me now, his eyes searching.
The relief punching through me at the sight of him is overwhelming. I’ve been keeping it together, but there are just too many unknowns right now. And Orson Hall has scary eyes. “Yep, and I was just leaving. Give me a ride?”
He looks between me and Hall again, then nods at me.
I glance at Hall, still unsure why he brought me here, but he’s now watching Garcia, the real threat.
So I leave, Garcia not far behind me. I start to talk in the hallway, but he holds a finger up to his mouth.
I wait until we’re outside in the parking lot. But before I can pepper him with questions, he speaks.
“I was on my way to the country club to bring in Milo Cole for questioning when I got a call from your friend Alex. I never gave her my number, by the way.”
Yeah, that’s not going to stop any of my coworkers.
“She told me you’d been kidnapped by Orson Hall and that I should check here. What the hell is going on?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I recap a little of what happened, then say, “This didn’t feel like a menacing…situation.”
His fingers tighten around his steering wheel. “I should bring him in—”
“No. I’m unharmed and he won’t do any time.
If anything, it’ll throw accelerant on an already shaky situation.
” I just want Ethan to pay Hall what he owes him and then get out from under the loan shark.
It’s the only way the girls will be safe.
“I won’t press charges or sign a witness statement. I got in that SUV willingly.”
He glances at me, his expression dark as he pulls up to a stoplight. “You really don’t know why he didn’t kidnap you?”
I shake my head. “No. He simply said he wanted to meet me. He was probably trying to figure out if I’m a cop or something. Hey, can you drop me off at the country club? My vehicle is there.” So’s my phone. I’m really hoping one of the valet people picked it up.
He sighs, but nods and heads in that direction.
“Any luck on getting a warrant?” I ask, mainly to take the focus off me. I don’t want him to ask me too many questions—like why I was at the country club this morning.
“Yeah, a limited one. So why were you at Ethan’s country club this morning?”
Of course he would ask. “Checking out the brunch options.”
“I know you sent me that anonymous info on Milo Cole—it’s part of the reason I got that warrant pushed through, so thank you.”
“I will not confirm or deny that I sent anything…but he’s a liar and I hope you arrest him in front of his wife.”
“Not arresting him. Just bringing him in for questioning. Anything else you want to tell me? Have you talked to Ryan Chatelain too?”
I clear my throat. Not yet, but that was my plan before I was kidnapped. “No.” At least I can be honest about that.
“Let me do my job, Sloane. Despite my earlier reservations, my boss was right. You’ve been a help and I appreciate it. But I need to do this a certain way. If Milo Cole lied, then so did Ryan Chatelain. I’ll be bringing him in too.”
I simply nod, because I don’t want to lie to him again. Instead, I say, “So what kind of access did they give you to Cara’s files?”
“It’s mostly redacted stuff, and we’re still interviewing people she worked with, trying to build a bigger picture. It’s a lot, and without knowing the motive…” His jaw tightens.
The why of murder almost always matters. Why could help me narrow down the suspects exponentially. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I saw the guy who shot at me the day of the memorial.” He’ll know what day, but I spell it out.
“What? Where?”
“At Hall’s sports bar. I can’t be sure it was him, but he was wearing the same jacket.” I describe the guy I saw and how he’d grabbed a beer straight from behind the bar.
“I think I know who that is,” Garcia says when I finish.
“Feel like sharing?” I didn’t take a picture of him, so I’m in the dark.
He’s quiet for a moment. “Sounds like one of Hall’s nephews. Twice removed or something…a real fuckup. Do not talk to him.”
“I won’t.” This time I’m telling the truth. I’m guessing the guy was doing some kind of recon of Cara and Ethan’s house during the memorial. Though I’m not sure why… Maybe I will talk to the guy.
“I mean it. Stay away from him. With your description I’ve got enough to bring him in for questioning.”
“Okay.” I’ll leave it at that. For now.