Chapter 20
Twenty
Ella
We drive all night. Joel stops at a service station at one point and puts gas into the car, but there’s no one around for me to ask for help. I consider crawling out of the car and running, but we’re out in the middle of fucking nowhere.
For now, I’m trapped.
But we’ll have to stop for gas again, or stop so he can rest, or something. And if he wants to go to Mexico, we’ll join up with Interstate 5, the main freeway, pretty soon.
How does he expect me to get into Mexico? Don’t I need a passport or something? I don’t have one—I’ve never traveled out of the country.
I don’t think Joel has truly thought this through. Typical of him—come up with the first part of a plan and just wing the rest. Sort of like how he invited me to the gala, then didn’t follow through there, either.
The sun is rising over the desert. We’re on back roads, it looks like, so he can avoid the freeways and extra traffic. We haven’t passed another car in ages.
I can tell he’s getting drowsy—his eyelids keep drifting closed. Dangerous. I don’t want to crash in this barren landscape. Then again, maybe if we did, I could grab his phone and call for help.
I want to offer to drive so he can sleep, and then I’ll take his phone and call the police, or take the gun and drive us to a town. But he’ll see through my offer in a second. And my jaw still aches from where he hit me last night.
His eyes flash open and he gives a visible jerk in his seat.
“Shit, nearly fell asleep.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls something out and pops it in his mouth, swallows. A pill, I bet. Something for energy.
Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, he looks way more energetic. Voice full of charm and friendliness, he says, “Did you have plans last night?”
“Nothing in particular,” I say, not sure what sort of answer would make him happy. Does he want to hear I was planning on fucking his dad and Sebastian again? Does he want to know how long it would’ve taken them to notice me gone?
“Right. Old Bastian Crown was out schmoozing. I found him tagged in Church of Fortune’s social.
Had to make sure he wasn’t around when I texted you.
And my dear old pops was working, of course.
You know, every time he had me over to stay with him for a vacation, he worked, too?
From home, of course, so he thought it was okay.
He couldn’t even hire a nanny like my mom did.
Wanted to ‘do it himself.’” Joel scoffs.
“Except he was on his phone all the fucking time. You can call me crazy all you want, but that sort of upbringing has to have an effect, you know?”
“You can call me crazy all you want, but people with shitty childhoods don’t automatically turn into pill-popping kidnappers,” I snap.
Then I wince. Is he going to hit me? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
But he just chuckles. “Good point. Maybe it’s just shitty genes.”
It’s not. It’s just that he’s a bad person and he doesn’t want to do better. But I bite my tongue.
Every now and then, we pass another car. We’re getting to a more populated area. Maybe I can signal to other cars that I’m in danger. Joel can’t possibly shoot everyone on I-5.
“You probably have all kinds of questions,” he says, voice gloating. “All I had to do to spoof my dad’s number was a quick Google search and test it out with a second burner phone. Easy as fucking pie.”
“I honestly don’t care.” I stare out the window at the passing landscape.
Rock formations, Joshua trees. As the sun rises farther, I can make out the occasional wildflower.
And of course, the ever-present litter. Why can nothing ever be completely beautiful?
The futility of it causes tears to prick my eyes.
He’s going to take me somewhere and kill me. There’s no way I can get into Mexico with him. He’s got to know that.
I’m too scared to ask. My gut twists with anxiety.
“Come on, what else do you want to know?” he asks.
Are you going to kill me? But I don’t ask it. Instead, I say, “Why were you watching me?”
“Watching you?”
“You had cameras set up in my apartment.”
He shrugs. “I was looking to get some dirt on my dad. His place was too hard to set up. Yours was easy enough.”
“Did you steal my keyboard, too?”
He laughs like I’ve told the funniest joke he ever heard. “What would I want with your shitty keyboard?”
“I—you mentioned you saw it in my apartment.”
“Saw it, but that’s the end of it. I was more focused on whether or not my fucking father or Sebastian were coming in to fuck you.”
If he didn’t take it, that means Tommy did, and my heart breaks all over again. I’d feared it from the start, but when Joel mentioned the keyboard a couple of weeks ago, I thought, maybe, it had been him instead.
“I did see footage of some rough-looking guys come in and take it.”
This sparks my curiosity, although it’s hard to find it in me to truly care.
The keyboard’s gone. Nothing I learn about its theft is going to bring it back—especially if Tommy’s “acquaintances” are the ones who took it.
Rough-looking guys could be anyone, but Tommy’s the only other person who knew about the keyboard.
“Any other questions?” he asks. “I’m an open book.”
“Can you let me out here?” I say. “I won’t even say anything to anyone. I won’t even tell them about Mexico or anything, I swear.”
“I don’t know what my dad sees in you,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re fucking ugly when you beg.”
“Well, you’re fucking ugly all the time,” I say. I don’t know why I’m trying to push his buttons. Am I being childish? Or am I hoping to force him to snap? What happens when he does? He could kill me…or he could make a mistake.
He grits his teeth and his hands clench on the wheel. I’m tempted to grab it and yank, pull the car right off the road. But I’m afraid of what he’s going to do if that happens. He might just shoot me and be done with me.
Another hour passes. He doesn’t ask if I have any more questions. I have a million, but I won’t like the answers.
We’re still not seeing many cars, but one appears in the side mirror, approaching from behind. I flick my gaze over to Joel, wondering if the other car will pass us, and whether I can risk a signal to the other driver. The chances of them even looking into our car and seeing me are slim.
They’re catching up with us, though. On this flat, straight road, there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re going to pull up alongside us.
Joel still doesn’t seem to notice the other car, which pulls out of its own lane to pass us. Instead, he starts rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly. He’s probably coming down from whatever high that pill gave him. He digs around in his pocket but his hand comes back empty.
“Running low on uppers?” I ask. “What, did your mommy not give you enough?”
“Fuck!” he yells, pounding the steering wheel.
Our car swerves, nearly crashing into the other one that’s passing us. I start to lift my hand to wave at them for help, but Joel sees me and smacks my arm down.
“Fuck you, bitch!” He lifts his hand, and I flinch, but he just points at me. “You’re driving, now.”
He pulls over, climbs out and gestures for me to exit, as well. I have to go out his door because mine doesn’t work. I take as long as I possibly can to get out of the car, hoping someone will come by on this mostly-deserted road.
Joel scoffs. “I know what you’re thinking. Listen up. If someone drives past and stops to help, I’m shooting them. So hurry your ass up, little girl.”
I cringe. I hate that he’s using his father’s nickname for me. He must’ve heard Kingston use it at some point.
He’s trying to mock it, to cheapen it.
But that will never work.
Oh, Kingston. Sebastian. I miss you both . I miss them so much my chest aches.
Kingston
I haven’t slept. Bash hasn’t, either. We’re camped at Ironwood’s offices because the police station kicked us out when we didn’t have any more information to share.
Detective Baldwin, at least, is keeping us informed.
He calls frequently. None of us expect this to be a ransom situation, although that would make this easier in some ways.
I’d pay to get her back. I’d give Joel the whole fucking company. I don’t care about anything else—I just want Ella.
The conference room at Ironwood is full of movement—their investigative team is moving fast, blazing through computer records, hacking into things they probably shouldn’t hack into, leaving absolutely nothing unturned in our hopes to find out where Joel might’ve taken Ella.
Lin pulls up a list of every Hackler property she can find. Jaxon and Ryder have sent some of their people out to start canvasing each property. So far, no luck. But there are a lot of properties to go through. I had no idea Rayanne and Steve had so many houses.
Our current theory is that Joel has hunkered down at one of them. Why he’d bring Ella, though, isn’t exactly clear.
Except for that phone call he and I had last night. I’ll destroy what you love most .
If he hurts her, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never get over it. What must she be feeling, thinking, right now? She’s probably scared. Pissed, too, the little firecracker. I’m sure she won’t hesitate to tell Joel exactly what she thinks about his stupid ass.
My girl’s a fighter. I try to keep reminding myself of that. She’s going to be okay. She has to be.
Sebastian paces the conference room, looking over peoples’ shoulders as they work.
To their credit, they don’t snap at him to sit the hell down and let them do their thing—which is what I want to tell him to do.
But he’s antsy, anxious. Just like me, but it shows up differently. I go still. He starts moving.
An hour has gone by. Unable to keep waiting, I dial Baldwin, who answers on the second ring.
“Have you talked to Rayanne?” I ask.
His voice is faint—he’s only half-listening.
“Are you there?” I ask.
“Yeah, sorry. Mrs. Hackler has nothing to share with us, nor does her husband.”
“Is there any way to encourage them to talk?” I ask. “Like mentioning their cooperation during sentencing?”
“They insist they would tell us something if they knew,” he says. “Look, I gotta go.”
The call ends abruptly and I sigh.
“Nothing?” Bash says.
I shake my head.
“I can’t fucking take this anymore,” Bash says, shoving his chair back. “I’m out.”
He storms from the room and the door slams closed after him.
Lin starts to get up like she’ll go after him, but then she sits down. With a shrug, she meets my gaze.
“He needs a minute,” we say at the same time.
It would be funny if this were any other situation.
“He gets like this with you too, huh?” Lin says.
“Yeah. I guess it’s an established pattern?”
“His dad was a good guy, but he was terrible about expressing emotions. He taught Bash to hide them, too. Bash has opened up a lot, especially in the past couple of months.”
She doesn’t have to say it—Ella is helping Bash to be more expressive. But now, Ella is missing.
And Bash, like me, is losing his fucking mind.
Ironwood investigators continue working in the background, and when Lin turns back to her own laptop, I shut my mouth and let her work.
I wish I knew where Joel would go. He’s always run to Rayanne at the slightest hint of trouble.
But now, Rayanne’s in jail, awaiting trial.
Without bail, because she and Steve both pose significant flight risks—so at least the judicial system is doing something right.
Bash returns after a little while. He doesn’t look much calmer than he was when he left, but he seems to have himself under control.
“Any news?” he asks.
Before I can answer, Detective Baldwin calls me.
“Kingston, here,” I answer.
“I have news.”
“I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
“No problem,” he says.
I tap the icon on my phone. “Okay, go ahead.”
Lin, Bash, and several of the other Ironwood people stare at my phone, waiting for Baldwin’s news.
“We found his car,” Baldwin says, “but not Joel or Ella. We think they got into a second vehicle.”
“Where’d you find Joel’s car?” Bash asks.
“Some family property in the Sierra foothills, between here and Death Valley. The officers have checked the place out and moved on.”
“So Joel’s taking Ella south-east,” I say.
“They were for a time. Could’ve gone any direction since,” Baldwin says.
I want to throw things, shout at everyone here that the world is ending and they aren’t working fast enough. Bash, Ella, and I were so fucking careful—how could this have even happened? What would cause Ella to come downstairs like that and leave?
Joel must have tricked her, somehow.
I tell myself to stop worrying about how he got her, because that really doesn’t matter. What matters right now is getting her back.