Chapter 20
A woman about Savannah’s age carried a stainless-steel tray of food toward the porch of the small house where Savannah sat
playing Uno with Simon. Colored beads snaked through the woman’s hair, and a red-and-white ruffled skirt fluttered around
her ankles. She was beautiful with dark eyes, but she didn’t smile or even glance their way.
She set the metal pan on the table and walked back the way she’d come. Savannah stood and caught a whiff of chorizo and cheese.
A basket held small rounds of some type of bread on one side of the tray, and small containers of chorizo, black beans, mozzarella
cheese, avocado chunks, pickled onions, and jalapenos were on the other side.
“That smells good.” Simon reached for a bread round. “They have slits at the top like pita bread. Maybe we’re supposed to
stuff them.”
“I think they’re arepas. They’re a traditional Venezuelan food I’ve heard of.” She picked up a piece of bread. “I think these
are made with corn flour. I’ll prep one for you.”
“I want to do my own.” Simon slid small spoonfuls of each of the ingredients into the pocket of his bread and took a bite. His eyes widened. “Bussin’,” he mumbled past his full mouth.
She prepped one for herself and the explosion of flavors had her reaching for another one right away. The morning’s coffee
was the last thing she’d put in her stomach, and she’d saved the breakfast pastries for Simon. At least Hornbrook wasn’t starving
them. She wouldn’t mind a shower and a change of clothing, though. The lack of normal supplies wasn’t a good indication of
their expected longevity.
Anton approached with his usual grim expression. He jerked his thumb toward the main house. “The boss wants to see you.” He
eyed Simon and the dogs begging for a bite of food at his feet. “Alone.”
Her gut clenched, and she wiped the juice from her fingers with a napkin before following him across the oyster-shell path
dappled with late-afternoon sunlight. Had Hez replied to Hornbrook’s demands yet? She slowed her steps, but Anton grabbed
her arm and propelled her faster toward their destination.
She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “I can walk by myself.”
“Step up the pace or I’ll drag you.”
She clenched her hands and quickened her steps. The theme music from Jaws greeted her when she opened the door to the house. A shudder went down her back at the grin Anton directed her way, and she
remembered Hornbrook’s threat about feeding Simon to the sharks. She crossed the mahogany floors to the living room.
Hornbrook rose from the leather sofa. His cold, appraising gaze swept over her. “Your fiancé hasn’t complied with my demands yet, and I think he needs a reminder of what he stands to lose.”
“Why are you doing this?” she burst out. “Hez planned to leave you alone. It was over as far as he was concerned. He didn’t
want a war with you.”
“I didn’t start this war—you have Hez to blame for your situation. His ransom demand set it in motion.”
Ransom demand? “It couldn’t have been Hez. We just wanted to get on with life and forget all about you.”
“Did you really think you could hold me hostage for twenty million dollars and demand debt relief for TGU without repercussions?
I’m sure Hez thought I’d roll over at the next demand of five million, but he was wrong. It’s time to eliminate the threat
altogether.”
Savannah took a step back as the obnoxious music continued to play. “It wasn’t Hez. Maybe someone in your own organization
thought he’d implicate Hez and fleece you for money.”
“My staff wouldn’t dare cross me like that. They’ve seen what I do to my enemies.” He shrugged. “At any rate it doesn’t matter
now. At some point I would have had to ensure there weren’t copies of that database floating around, waiting to blindside
me. You and the boy are perfect leverage to make sure Hez and Bruno destroy all the copies. His time is running out—and so
is yours.”
Savannah considered her options. As soon as Hornbrook was assured the copies of the database were gone, he’d have to remove
the risk that she and Simon presented. He couldn’t trust they wouldn’t testify against him, and he’d make sure their bodies
were never found.
She laced her hands together and smiled when two of his goldens approached. “These guys are gorgeous. The fact you take care of dogs that are left behind makes me think you might be a man of your word.”
Hornbrook’s eyebrows rose, and he smiled for the first time. “My grandfather raised award-winning golden retrievers, and I
learned to appreciate dogs from him. They’re loyal, love their people, and never lie—except about whether they’ve been fed.
Every dog that sets foot on this island is well treated and safe. Including your two.”
Savannah forced a chuckle. “I appreciate hearing that. My dogs are important to me too. I recently picked up a rescue named
Cass that’s afraid of Cody and Marley, so she wasn’t with us when we went on our walk. I hope she’s okay.”
Hornbrook shuffled papers and glanced at his Rolex before turning a computer monitor to face her. “Enough chitchat. Read the
headline and say the words twelve hours when you’re done.”
She’d prepped all afternoon for this moment. She read the headline. “Yankees Beat Mets 6–3.” She paused and cleared her throat.
“Hez, take care of our new puppy, ’kay? Take care of Cass, ’kay?” She slurred the words slightly as though she was nervous.
“I’ll see you soon, ’kay? Twelve hours.”
Now that she’d delivered her lines, it felt impossible that Hez would get what she was trying to tell him. The ominous music
from Jaws swelled to a crescendo. If Hez didn’t figure it out, she and Simon would be food for the sharks.
“Focus!” Hez leaned back in the Justice Chamber’s lone decent chair and shook his head so hard that he got a warning twinge from the still-healing surgical site on the left side of his skull.
But he couldn’t shake the memory of Martine out of his brain.
He needed to devote every neuron to saving Savannah and Simon—not analyzing the incident at the Campbell Motel.
That would have to wait. And yet his mind wouldn’t let it.
What had happened at the motel? It had the trappings of a secret tryst—the cheap motel, Martine’s dress and makeup, the wine—but
Martine hadn’t even tried to seduce him. She apologized and ran as soon as he was in the room demanding answers. Why? The
only explanation that made sense was that the whole thing was a setup. But what exactly had been set up? Presumably, the room
had been staged to make it appear they’d been having an affair—but was that all? Did Martine flee the room so it would look
like Hez attacked her? And was that shape in the hedges a photographer? Had there been a camera hidden in the room too?
Hez shook his head again, more carefully this time. He inhaled—and got a whiff of Martine’s perfume from his TGU sweatshirt.
He tore it off and hurled it across the room. It hit the opposite wall and slid down, landing in a heap on the floor. None
of this was important now when he needed to find Savannah and Simon.
His phone buzzed—and all thoughts of Martine vanished when he saw the name on the screen: Hornbrook. Hez tapped the recording
app Hope had asked him to put on the phone, then took the call. “Hez Webster.”
“You’re down to twelve hours.” Hornbrook’s cold tone came through despite the voice-altering software. “Did you finish the jobs I gave you?”
Hez licked his lips. “We’re making progress. We’ve destroyed all copies of the database, just like you asked. We’re closing
in on the blackmailer, too, but we need more time.”
“You don’t have it.”
“Let me talk to Savannah. How do I know she and Simon are still alive?”
“They’re still alive—for the moment.” Another recording of Savannah reading a current headline, followed by the ominous words
“twelve hours.”
The line went dead.
Hez played the recorded conversation twice to make sure he caught every nuance. Savannah’s voice was a dagger in his heart,
but it was more than that. She was telling him something more than Hornbrook intended—but what?
Hez forwarded the recording to everyone who’d been at the last meeting, including a Zoom link in the email. Then he opened
the Zoom meeting and waited, his mind racing.
Bruno’s bald head appeared first, followed a few seconds later by Hope and Michael. Ed, Dominga, and Toni were probably in
class. There was no time to wait for them.
Hez jumped right in. “Savannah left clues for us in that last message. She doesn’t have a dog named Cass, and something was
off about how she was talking.”
Hope’s brow furrowed. “Off? How exactly?”
“She kept saying ‘’kay’ and she slurred her words. She worked hard on her diction when she started teaching, and it’s instinctive
for her now. She doesn’t normally talk like that.”
Michael grunted. “Think she’s drunk or drugged?”
Hez thought for a moment. “It’s possible, I guess, but that doesn’t explain why she’s asking me to take care of a fictional
dog.”
Hope leaned her cheek against her hand. “I also have some clues to add to the mix. The FBI did an acoustic analysis on the
first message and picked up what sounded like seagulls and possibly waves in the background.”
“So they might be near a beach.” Michael rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean much around here.”
Hez snapped his fingers. “Yes, it does! I’ll bet she’s on a cay. There are lots of private islands and cays in the Caribbean.
We stayed on Fowl Cay during our honeymoon. She wasn’t saying ‘okay.’ She was saying ‘cay.’”
“Maybe.” Michael scratched his jaw. “What about the dog thing?”
“Oh.” Hope tapped her keyboard. “There’s a group of islands called the Dog Islands. Maybe she’s there.”
Michael nodded slowly. “Could be.”
Bruno cocked his head and frowned. “Dunno. She said to take care of a dog named Cass, which seems weirdly specific if she’s
just trying to get us to think of dogs. Is one of the Dog Islands named Cass or something?”
Hope typed some more, then sat back. “No, and there’s no town called Cass on any of them.”
“Wait—let’s listen to exactly what she said.” Hez played the message again. “She’s really only slurring her words when she
says ‘care of Cass.’ Maybe she’s running them together on purpose. She’s actually saying ‘care-a-Cass.’”
Michael frowned. “So what does that mean?”
No one responded.
Bruno chuckled. “I had an uncle in Chicago who thought Care-a-cass was the capital of Venezuela.” His eyes widened. “Hold
on a sec!” His hands flew over his keyboard so fast that his typing sounded like static. “Ha! Bet I found ’em!”
“Where?” Hez and Michael asked simultaneously.
Bruno’s face split into a wide grin. “Private island about ten miles off the coast of Venezuela, near Caracas. It’s owned
by a shell company controlled by Hornbrook.”
Hez punched the air. “Yes! We can contact the Venezuelan authorities and— What’s wrong?”
Hope was shaking her head and grimacing. She sighed. “The Venezuelans don’t cooperate with us at all. They hate American law
enforcement—partially because we’ve arrested some of their government officials for drug smuggling and other crimes. If we
ask for their help, we’ll be lucky if they just ignore us. More likely, they’d send forces out to the island to protect it
against Yankee intervention.”
Michael reddened. “So we don’t ask! We send in the Marines, take out Hornbrook, and get my grandson!”
Hez felt a migraine forming behind his eyes. “The Marines won’t do that, Michael. They’d be invading another country. It would
be an act of war.”
“He’s right.” Hope seemed to deflate. “Hornbrook is in Venezuelan territorial waters. The American government can’t do anything.
You’re on your own. I’m sorry.”
Hez exchanged a long look with Michael.
“I have someone who can help us,” Michael said.
“He used to work for the CIA, and he owes me a favor. Flight time is six hours, plus an hour or two to get to the island. Grab your passport and Savannah’s and Simon’s as well.
I’ll call my friend on the way and have him get his team together.
It’s a tight timeline, but we have to make it work. ”
Whatever his faults, Michael’s love for Simon just might save Savannah and Simon this time.