Chapter 30
THIRTY
RAY
My phone rings in my pocket and I dig it out, my heart pounding in my chest. Unknown Number flashes on the screen and my stomach drops. I accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ray Calhoun?”
“Yes, this is him.” Please let Tucker be okay. Please, please, please.
“I got your boy. If you want him back, you’ll have to pay.”
“Whatever you want. Just please don’t hurt him.”
“Glad we’re on the same page. Hundred thousand.”
“Ask for more,” a familiar female voice says in the background. Brianna. “They have it.”
My vision tunnels at the request. Fire roars in my veins at hearing her tell him to ask for more. The world tilts beneath my feet as the truth sinks impossibly deeper.
Brianna has absolutely no love for Tucker. Not a single ounce. To her, he is a tool to feed her addiction or fix her problems.
I will fucking kill her.
“No tricks. No cops. Or he dies.” He says it with such ease. As if life means nothing. As if Tucker isn’t the first kid he has abducted and held for ransom. “I’ll be in touch with more details soon.”
The call disconnects.
“Who was it?” Abigail glances my way from the driver’s seat.
“Pull over,” I mutter.
“Was it Brianna?”
Bile inches up my throat. “Pull the fuck over!”
Tapping the brakes, she jerks the wheel right and steers us onto the shoulder. When the car slows enough, I unbuckle my seat belt, fling the door open, and vomit. My body doesn’t stop retching after I empty my stomach. Minutes pass in painful dry heaves.
When the convulsions stop, I slowly sit up and close the door. Grab a napkin from the glove compartment and wipe my mouth. Swallow past the sour taste in my mouth and focus on what matters.
“Head for the police department.”
Abigail glances over her shoulder, checks the road for traffic, then makes a U-turn. The engine revs then shifts gears as Abigail floors it. Buildings and pedestrians pass in a blur as we drive well over the speed limit through town.
Unlocking my phone, I scroll through my contacts and tap Mom’s name. She answers on the first ring.
“Did you find him?”
I wish that was the reason for my call. Soon. “No, but I did get a call. Abi and I are headed to the police station.”
“We’ll meet you there.”
I hang up before Mom says something hopeful. Moving down the list, I tap Call on Tymber Woulf Security and Investigative Services.
When the call connects, Tymber skips the pleasantries. “Update?”
“Got a call a few minutes ago. Man asking for ransom.” I pause and inhale deeply. “Brianna was with him. Told him to ask for more.”
I have never hated someone with every fiber in my body the way I do Brianna Werner. She is human trash.
“How much?”
“Hundred thousand.”
“How long was the call?”
“Not long. A minute, maybe.”
“I’ll have Levi pull up your call history. We won’t get an exact location, but we’ll know which of the towers bordering town the call connected to. It’ll narrow our search.”
“Thanks, Tymber. We’ll be at the police station in a few.”
“I’ll head over with news once I have it.”
The call disconnects.
On instinct, I open my chat history with Kaya and stare down at the screen. My fingers hover over the keyboard, eager to type a message and tell her about the call. But I don’t. I close the app, lock my phone, and drop it in my lap.
I know this isn’t her fault, but I’m still too fired up. I don’t trust myself to be kind right now. Not while Brianna is using our son— my son—as a bargaining chip.
What sort of person does that? Who kidnaps their child, the one they openly admitted to never wanting, and offers to return them for an obscene amount of money? What kind of person thinks death threats toward their child are acceptable?
The worst kind.
Abigail turns into the police station lot and parks near the entrance. As I step onto the sidewalk leading to the door, my parents park next to my car. They jog to catch up as Abigail opens the door and holds it for us.
A blast of cool air hits me as I step inside. The scent of stale coffee and day-old donuts filters through the room as I cross to the reception desk. A man with dark hair lifts his gaze from the computer screen, a smile on his face that falls when our eyes meet.
“Mr. Calhoun.” He sits taller. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any updates.”
I glance down long enough to read the badge on his chest. “Well, I do, Officer Fritz. I need to speak with Emerson.”
His brows twitch then smooth out. “Which one?”
Irritation roars in my chest. “Does it matter? Pick one. I don’t care which.” I roll my eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Sweetheart,” Mom mutters, her tone half-sincere, half reprimanding.
“Don’t,” I growl. “You can scold me later when Tucker’s home.”
Thankfully, she backs off.
Chief Emerson strolls through the bullpen, opens the door separating the lobby from the officers, and gestures for us to come in. Before I step through, I tell Officer Fritz Tymber should be here soon. Fritz agrees to send Tymber back when he arrives.
Emerson walks us into a small conference room and shuts the door. “Talk to me.”
“Got a ransom call about ten minutes ago.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then meets my gaze. “How much?”
“Hundred thousand.” My insides wring as I tell him what some sick fuck thinks my son’s life is worth.
His hands curl into fists at his sides as his jaw works back and forth. “They say anything else?”
Bile sinks its claws in my throat once more. I cover my mouth with a loose fist and inhale a slow breath. “He threatened Tucker’s life.”
Mom gasps. “Oh god.”
Dad wraps an arm around her shoulder and tugs her into his side. But that’s the end of his consolation. He doesn’t offer uplifting words or vacant promises. Not when things are so up in the air.
“Talked to Tymber on the way here. He’s got Levi on my call history to see which tower their phone pinged. Should be here soon.”
Emerson rests his hands on his duty belt, one on the butt of his sidearm and the other over a collapsed baton. “You try calling the number back?”
Why the hell didn’t I think of that?
“No.” I unlock my phone, go to the call history, tap on the unknown call, and put it on speaker.
“The number you have dialed is no longer accepting calls.”
Dammit.
“Was worth a shot, but I assumed it wouldn’t go through,” Emerson states.
A knock echoes through the room and startles everyone. Emerson opens the door and Tymber rushes inside. Out of breath, Tymber slaps a piece of paper on the table and points.
“Call pinged the north tower.”
An ounce of relief trickles in and gives me premature hope. “Where exactly is the north tower?”
“Not far from the Freeman Estate,” Emerson states.
“So he’s still in Stone Bay?” There’s no way to mask my optimism.
Tymber shakes his head. “Possibly, but not guaranteed. The tower has a fifteen-mile radius.” He leans over the table and draws a circle on the paper with his finger. “The call came from somewhere in this range.”
I wince at the size of the circle.
“It’s something to work with,” Emerson says. “And it’s more than we had before you walked in the door.”
“What now?” I ask, desperate to move, to do something, anything, that will bring Tucker home.
Emerson glances around the room. “I update my officers, then we divide and conquer.” He points toward the printed map on the table. “We pair off and search every inch of this fifteen-mile radius.” Emerson levels me with his gaze. “Did the caller say when they’d reach out again?”
I shake my head. “No, just that he’d be in touch.”
Tymber growls. “Piece of shit.”
My thought exactly.
“Until the next call, we search as if Tucker’s life depends on us,” Emerson states with too much ease. “We stay in constant communication. No matter how insignificant you think something is, share the details of anything you find.” He holds my gaze. “It’d be best if you rode with an officer or Tymber.”
I nod and look to Tymber. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” Tymber dips his chin in my direction.
Everyone starts for the door, but Emerson steps in front of it and holds up a hand. “Do not engage if you find them.”
Muttered agreements echo through the room.
“I mean it. We don’t know who this person is or what they’re willing to do. Tucker’s life is at risk. We can’t make impulsive, reckless decisions. As far as we’re concerned, this man is dangerous.”
We exit the conference room, weave through the bullpen to the lobby, and walk out the front door.
Before I follow Tymber around the block to TWSIS, Abigail hands me my keys and says she will ride with our parents. Dad tells me where he plans to start, and Tymber shares which area we will scout. We promise to check in via call or text every thirty minutes or sooner if we find something.
Mom steps up to me, frames my face, and holds my stare. “We will find him.” She nods. “He’ll be home and safe soon.”
Her words repeat in my head until her proclamation settles in my bones.
We will get him back safely, swiftly.