Chapter Eight
RILEY’S FINGERS FLEW over the keyboard as she dug deeper and deeper into the lives of Ambassador Wright and his son, Christopher. People all over the Internet praised Wright for his humanitarian efforts and his dedication to his job as ambassador to Brazil.
Once in a while, she caught a hint of trouble with people in his personal life but nothing definitive.
Aidan Wright retaliated against those who crossed him on anything.
According to rumors circulating in a couple of chat rooms, Wright’s wife had been a beautiful but mousy woman who catered to the ambassador’s every demand.
She frowned. Where was she? Did she know what was happening to Christopher? Riley shifted her search to Britta Wright. What she found brought her to a stunned halt. Poor Christopher.
Andre’s hands hovered over his keyboard. “Is something wrong?”
“Christopher’s mother is missing.”
He stared. “Someone kidnapped her?”
“The police report says there are no signs of a kidnapping. No ransom demand has been received, either. It’s possible Britta just walked away.”
“Or she’s dead.”
“Yeah, well, there aren’t signs of foul play, either, although I’m inclined to agree with you.
I hope Britta was smart enough to walk away if her husband was abusive.
But if that’s the case, she should have taken Chris with her.
From what I’ve read, she’s an exceptional mother and adores her son.
It makes little sense that she would walk away from her marriage without Chris. ”
“Which leads us to the same conclusion. She’s dead at the ambassador’s hand.”
“If we’re right, why would the ambassador kill his wife? She was beautiful but mousy and did everything her husband told her to do.”
“Maybe Wright wanted his wife gone to leave an opening for a new wife.”
Riley flinched. “Out with the old, in with the new?”
“It’s an old story. Have you seen anything about a mistress or new friend of the ambassador?”
“I saw something on a couple of sites. I’ll add that to the list of things to chase down.” A mistress. She still didn’t understand why the ambassador might want to replace his wife with a different woman. If this were true, what impact did that have on Christopher?
When she thought of something else, her eyes narrowed. “If Ambassador Wright killed his wife, where did he hide her body?”
“Good point. Bodies are hard to hide. They have a habit of appearing when you least want them to.”
She considered various options and discarded all but two.
“He either killed Britta himself or he had one of his loyal underlings do his dirty work for him. My bet is on the latter. I can’t see him soiling his hands.
Wright is the type who would deny, deny, deny, and shovel the blame onto his loyal underlings, who are fanatical enough to take the blame for something they didn’t do to protect him. ”
Andre turned to her. “That might be true, but we don’t have a shred of proof, Riley. We can’t take this to the cops. All we have is pure speculation that won’t hold up in a court of law.”
“So we can’t help Chris?” Riley could think of several ways to get that sweet boy out of danger. If her own investigations convinced her she and Andre were right about the abuse, she’d have to choose one of those methods to rescue the boy.
“I didn’t say that. Keep digging for proof. That’s the best way to help Chris. Just like finding proof of what was happening to you as you grew up would have been the best way to protect you. What I don’t understand is why no one in your life stepped up to do what was right.”
Blood drained from Riley’s face. He knew?
How? Nausea swirled in her stomach. Had Andre convinced Brent or Zane to allow him access to her personnel file?
A sense of betrayal swept over her. Riley had known she would have to tell Andre about her past, but she had wanted to do it on her own terms and in her own time.
This felt like cheating. He could have asked her rather than go behind her back.
Andre pointed at her. “Get that thought out of your head.”
“What thought? I said nothing.”
“The one whispering that I read through your personnel file.”
She stilled, hope daring to bloom. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying straight out I didn’t go behind your back to learn what you haven’t told me. Although I was tempted, that’s not how I want this to go down. I want to hear about it from you so I can see your face and hear your voice when you tell me about your past.”
The knot in her stomach eased. “If you didn’t read my file, how did you know I needed help as a kid and didn’t get it?”
“I saw a lot of things as a cop. None of them disturbed me more than when I saw the results of abuse on the children and their mothers.” He cupped her cheek, gently stroking her skin with his thumb.
“You have some of the same behavior patterns. I don’t have proof, just recognition from years on the job as a cop. ”
Riley flinched. Being told she needed to work on her poker face wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
At least Andre didn’t demand to know about her past. Her reprieve was running out, though.
She couldn’t expect to build a solid relationship with Andre if she wasn’t honest with him.
“I should tell you about my past before you find out from another source.”
“But you don’t want to.” His hand dropped from her face to her hand, where he threaded his fingers through hers. “I won’t make you talk to me. This is about trust, Riley. You can’t force it. Trust grows at its own pace. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”
“But it’s time. You need to know.”
He was silent for a moment, then gave a brief nod.
“All right. Let’s make it easier for you to talk to me.
” Andre pushed back from the table and crossed the room to close the door and turn off the lights.
When he finished, the room was lit by the glow of the computer screens.
He held out his hand to Riley. “Come sit with me.”
Riley followed Andre to the opposite side of the security room and sat with him on the couch set against the wall. He wrapped his arm around her, tugged her close to his side, and said nothing, content to sit with her in the silence.
Little by little, Riley relaxed and tipped her head against his shoulder. His patience and utter stillness allowed her to start the hardest conversation of her life.
“I grew up in the foster care system from the time I was five years old. My parents died in a bank robbery, and they had no relatives on either side who would take me in, so I became a ward of the state.”
“I’m sorry.”
Riley ignored his comment. If she obsessed over her lot in life, she’d be a bitter woman with a serious ax to grind with her relatives.
Riley had learned a long time ago that life was what you made of it.
She could wallow in pity, or she could pull herself out of the hole and get on with life.
She preferred the second option to the first.
“My social worker was a sweet lady who did her best to help me get noticed by potential families.
I had a lot of families say they wanted me over the years, but nothing panned out.
The truth is no one wanted to deal with a traumatized kid who cried herself to sleep almost every night for two years.
Beyond that, no one wanted to deal with a kid who rarely talked.
“I figured out on my own that if I wanted things to change, I had to change. I concluded the only way to get myself out of the situation I was in was through education. So, I made it my goal to make the best grades possible to land a scholarship and go to college.”
“What did you want to major in?”
“Computer science.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask. So what happened? Did you get the scholarships you were after?”
“I did thanks to Angie Dodd.”
“Who is she?”
“A homeless woman who lived in the Homestead camp.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “I lived in a tent next to hers.”
“How old were you when you lived in that camp, Riley?”
“Sixteen.”
Andre froze. “You left the foster care system at sixteen years old?”
“I ran from the system. I had been living with a nice family for a couple of weeks. One night, the man of the house sneaked into my room after midnight.”
He groaned. “Oh, baby, no.” Andre tucked her closer to his side. “He molested you?”
She gripped his free hand. “He didn’t get far. I fought him off while screaming bloody murder. His wife ran into the room, as did his 18-year-old son. They forced him out of the room and called the police. The son kept his father from bolting before the cops arrived.”
“What happened next?”
“The wife called the police while I packed what few things I owned and shoved them into my backpack.
The police detectives got me out of that home and convinced me to file charges against the husband.
A jury found him guilty of attempted rape and child molestation.
When child services made plans to put me in another foster home, I packed my things in my backpack, climbed out a window, and ended up at Homestead camp.
“Angie was like a second mom. She helped me set up a new identity so I could go to school and finish my high school degree. Angie encouraged me to work hard so I could go to college and get out of the homeless camp.”
“She sounds like a good woman.”
“Angie was the best.”
“Was?”
“The day I moved into one of Middle Tennessee State University’s dorms, she disappeared from the homeless camp. I haven’t seen her since that day.”
“Have you looked for her with Fortress Security resources?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, it’s tempting, Andre. I want to know what happened to her and why she bothered to care about me and help me.”
“But?”
“I’m afraid to find out she didn’t really care, that this was just a twisted game to her and when the game ended, she got out.”
“That must hurt.”