Chapter 20
Cory opened the door to a wall of rage.
"Where's my daughter?" Andrew's red face was inches from his. "I know you're hiding her."
The man tried to shove past immediately. Cory planted himself in the doorway, immovable. Up close, Izzy’s ex looked rougher than he had at the café—bloodshot eyes, two-day stubble, expensive shirt wrinkled like he'd slept in it.
"Sir, you need to step back."
"Get out of my way." Andrew tried to shoulder past again. Behind Cory, Izzy made a small sound—not fear exactly, but recognition. This was familiar territory for her.
"Chantal's not here," Izzy said, voice carefully neutral. "She's safe."
"Safe?" He finally focused on his ex-wife, ugly satisfaction crossing his features. "Safe from what? You're the one getting blown up. You're the one being investigated by the FBI."
"Andrew, please—"
"Shut up." He jabbed a finger past Cory's shoulder. "I want my daughter. Now."
"She's in protective custody," Cory said firmly. "As is Ms. Reyes. There's been a credible threat—"
Andrew's laugh was harsh, mocking. His gaze swept Cory's casual clothes with obvious disdain. "Playing house already? That was fast, even for Isabella."
"I'm Chief Fraser, Hope Landing Police. We met the last time you annoyed Ms. Reyes."
Another harsh laugh. "Yeah? So what? You look like a lumberjack."
Cory felt heat rise in his neck but kept his voice level. "Sir, you need to calm down or I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Ask me to leave?" Andrew's voice rose. "I'm here for my daughter. My lawyer says I have every right—"
"Your lawyer's not here," Cory interrupted.
That stopped Andrew short. His eyes narrowed, calculating. Then he shifted tactics, focusing on Izzy.
"Yeah, well my attorney’s gonna love this." Each word was carefully aimed. "Suspended license—oh yeah, I heard about that. FBI investigation. Living with some man while our daughter's in hiding."
Cory felt Izzy shrink behind him, her hand gripping the back of his shirt. Seeking anchor.
"What kind of mother gets her car bombed?" Andrew continued, warming to his theme. "What kind of mother puts her child in danger? Hides a child from her father?"
"I'm protecting her," Izzy's voice was small, nothing like the warrior he knew.
Andrew's small eyes narrowed. "From what? The only danger here is you. Your job, your enemies, your choices."
"That's enough," Cory said.
But Andrew wasn't done. "I'm filing emergency custody papers tomorrow. My lawyer says with your current situation, it's a slam dunk. Criminal investigation, unstable environment, hanging out with men—"
A wounded sound escaped Izzy. Cory felt it like a physical blow.
"Judge will have Chantal with me by Christmas," Andrew delivered the killing blow with obvious relish. "Maybe sooner. Florida's nice this time of year. She'll love the beach."
"You can't—" Izzy's voice broke.
Andrew's smirk widened at her distress. "Watch me."
He turned on his heel, striding toward a rental Lexus that screamed overcompensation. The car chirped as he unlocked it, and he threw one last look over his shoulder.
"Tell my daughter Daddy loves her. She'll be hearing from me real soon."
The door slammed behind Cory with unnecessary force. He turned to find Izzy sliding down the wall, legs giving out like someone had cut her strings.
"I can't—" Her breath came in short gasps. "He can't take her. He can't—"
Cory dropped to his knees beside her. Her face was white, eyes wide with panic he'd never seen before. Not when her car exploded. Not when the FBI all but accused her of terrorism. This was what broke Isabella Reyes—the threat of losing her daughter.
"Hey. Look at me." He kept his voice calm, steady. "Izzy, look at me."
She raised tear-filled eyes to his. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut.
"No judge is taking Chantal," he said firmly. "You're a good mother."
"My mechanic’s license is suspended." The words came out ragged. " I'm under federal investigation. What judge—"
"You're a victim of attempted murder," Cory interrupted. "You're protecting your child from a credible threat. Any reasonable judge will see that."
"You don't know Andrew." She wiped at her eyes with shaking hands. "He's charming when he wants to be. Manipulative. He'll paint me as unstable, dangerous—"
"Then we'll paint him as an absent father who abandoned his family." Cory helped her to her feet, keeping a steadying hand on her elbow.
They climbed the stairs slowly, Izzy still unsteady. Cory's mind was already working, turning over possibilities.
"The timing bothers me," he said as they reached the workroom.
"What?" She sank into a chair, exhaustion written in every line.
"Andrew shows up right when the sabotage starts. Says he's been in town for days but only files papers now?"
She looked up, a spark of interest breaking through the despair. "You think it's connected?"
"His clothes are expensive. Designer labels." Cory pulled up a chair across from her. "Where's a failed pilot getting that kind of money?"
"He said he had a new job..."
"That pays enough for Florida lawyers and Lexus rentals?" Cory shook his head. "Someone's bankrolling him."
"To distract me." The spark grew stronger. "To pressure me. Make me vulnerable."
"Someone who knows exactly which buttons to push." Cory leaned forward. "Who knows about Chantal, about your history with Andrew, about what would hurt you most."
"That's a short list." Izzy was sitting straighter now, warrior mode reasserting itself. "Andrew's not smart enough to plan this himself."
"No, but he's greedy enough to take money for it." Cory moved to his computer. "Let's see what we can find about his finances. New employer. Where he's staying."
"Cory?" Her voice was quiet.
He looked up to find her watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"Thank you. For..." She gestured vaguely. "Not letting me fall apart."
"You're not falling apart. You're under attack from multiple directions and still standing." He held her gaze. "That's pretty impressive, Reyes."
A ghost of her usual smile appeared. "Sweet talker."
"Truth teller." He turned back to his screen. "Now let's find out who's pulling Andrew's strings."
But then he paused, turning back to her. “I’d like to help.”
“With?”
“Fighting your ex.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but unless you’ve got a plan to arrest him…”
Cory shook his head. “I’ve got someone who can help. My sister is an attorney. But better than that, she teaches family law at Cornell. She hardly practices anymore, but do you mind if I run your case by her?”
Izzy blinked hard. “Mind? No. Not at all. If you think she’s got the time….”
“As soon as I explain the circumstances, she’ll make the time. Trust me.”
Izzy seemed to have trouble swallowing, but when she lifted her head, her eyes shone. “Okay.”
“Okay.” His heart lifted. If he could at least find a way to lift this burden from her shoulders, the rest would take care of itself.
They dove into research with renewed energy. Andrew's finances, his connections, his timeline. But Cory couldn't shake the image of Izzy broken against the wall, couldn't forget the feel of her hand gripping his shirt like a lifeline.
Someone was playing a deep game here. The sabotage was bad enough, but using a woman's child against her? That was personal. Cruel.
Whoever was behind this had just made a serious mistake. They'd shown their hand, revealed they knew Izzy's weaknesses intimately.
Which meant they were either very smart or very stupid.
Cory was betting on stupid. Because smart people didn't make enemies of women like Isabella Reyes.
And they definitely didn't make enemies of the cops who'd sworn to protect them.
His phone buzzed. Graceline, with an update on city business. He answered, but his eyes stayed on Izzy as she worked, color returning to her cheeks, determination replacing despair.
As his assistant updated him on a minor city council issue, Cory found himself offering up a silent prayer. The words from Proverbs came unbidden: The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.
Lord, be her stronghold. Help me protect her and Chantal. Give us wisdom to see through the deception and strength to stand against those who would harm them. And help me remember that Your justice is perfect, even when man's justice fails.
He ended the call with Graceline, watching Izzy work with fierce concentration. She might not share his faith—not yet—but that didn't mean he couldn't cover her in prayer.
And call his sister.