Chapter Fifty
Grant
My mother’s offer plagued me as I stood at Kiyah’s bedside. She had woken briefly, long enough to tell me everything, down to Branson breaking Pete’s fingers for shits and giggles and Desi helping her escape. I didn’t even have time to ask her about the pregnancy.
The pregnancy didn’t feel real yet. It felt abstract, like something that belonged to another couple—the perfect couple, who were solid and trusted each other—the couple who would be excitedly discussing nursery paint colors and baby names.
Not the couple who dropped bodies and were planning to assassinate a political figure.
We were having a child, and I couldn’t even be excited.
Images of Kiyah slumped over the steering wheel wouldn’t leave me, and her blood was still caked beneath my nails.
I thought about how close I’d come to losing her without ever knowing she was carrying a piece of us.
The idea hollowed me out, and my hands curled into fists at my sides.
A knock sounded at the door and was followed by someone clearing their throat.
I looked up just as a man in a suit and a badge at his waist entered.
He didn’t look surprised by the sight of Kiyah unconscious in the bed with wires and IVs spilled across the sheets.
He looked like a man who’d already seen worse.
“Mr. Baker. I’m Detective Dennis Calhoun. I’ve been assigned to Mrs. Baker’s case. How is she?” he asked, catching me by surprise. I’d expected him to jump right in—hounding me about all the gritty details.
“She’s still here,” I answered honestly. “She woke briefly to give me as much as she could before passing out again.”
Detective Calhoun nodded. “Fair enough. Right now may not be the best time to speak, but it’s the most crucial time. The more information I gather, the more we can give to the FBI when they hit the scene.”
I raised a brow. “Do you have him in custody?”
Detective Calhoun sighed and retrieved a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “We have officers at Mr. Branson’s residence, and some of the things they’ve found are… disturbing.”
My spine went rigid.
“They found a bedroom that appears to have been converted into a containment space,” he continued. “There were multiple locks on the door, and the door had reinforced hinges. There were bars installed on the interior of the window frame.”
My stomach dropped, and I closed my eyes briefly. I grabbed the bed railing with two hands to steady myself. Kiyah had managed to tell me the basics, but hearing it from someone else was like a second punch to the gut.
“There was significant blood and broken glass in the sitting room adjacent to the parlor—a clear sign of a physical altercation. We found bodies. Three in various parts of the house, and one outside. The men in the residence were killed with a knife in some capacity, and the man outside had been run over by a large vehicle.”
My jaw clenched hard enough to ache. “What else?”
“When law enforcement arrived, it was clear that Mr. Branson left in a hurry. His dresser drawers were pulled open, and clothes were missing. His safe was open, but bare. Our tech guys attempted to access the home security system, but the moment they gained entry, everything shut down. They lost everything. More than likely, a kill switch was involved.”
“Of course,” I responded hoarsely. “What are you doing to find him? Have you alerted the media?”
“We suspect that Mr. Branson has boarded a private flight and fled the country.”
I swore, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks. That motherfucker took off to a country with no-extradition treaties, and my family wouldn’t get the justice they deserved. I wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing that monster tossed into an unmarked grave.
“How do you know?”
“We have street camera footage of a vehicle registered to Mr. Branson headed in the direction of a small airport. The airport has been cooperative and allowed us to review their security footage. Branson checked in and confirmed a flight manifest to Venezuela.”
“Can’t they call the pilot and force him to return?”
Detective Calhoun shook his head. “Mr. Branson was the pilot. He has a pilot’s license.” A sharp laugh escaped me. There wasn’t nothing funny about it, but the hits wouldn’t stop coming. “Mr. Baker, we are doing everything in our power to locate him.”
“Has the media been alerted?” Detective Calhoun grew silent. “Well, then, I guess you’re not doing everything you can to find him. Thanks for telling me what I already suspected.
“The FBI will decide how the case is handled in the media.”
“What about Pete? You know, the son Branson abused and abandoned?”
“Child Protective Services has been notified, and they are dispatching a caseworker to the hospital. From what I understand, neither Mr. Branson nor his late wife has relatives. They were both only children, and their parents are deceased. Anna has some distant relatives, but they are great aunts and uncles. Pete will most likely go into foster care until placement can be found for him.”
“Foster… care,” I mumbled as if the words didn’t make sense. “No, he can’t go to foster care. W-why would you send him to foster care?”
“What are the alternatives, Mr. Baker?”
“My wife fought her way out of hell and took this child with her. She crashed into the house, and the first thing she said was Pete’s name. Pete is staying with us.”
Detective Calhoun’s face softened. “That’s admirable, Mr. Baker, but the optics of your family having custody of Pete wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“And what’s wrong with my family? Last I checked, none of us killed our wives, abducted women and imprisoned them, and abused children,” I replied, voice rising a few decibels.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Baker. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s certainly something that could be discussed with child services; however, this arrangement would add to the eventual media storm.”
“I don’t give a shit, and neither do y’all. Because if you did, you’d have Branson’s face plastered on every news station. Waiting for the FBI, miss me with that bullshit.”
Detective Calhoun nodded resolutely. “I’m sorry I don’t have all the answers you want, and for what it’s worth, I hope everything swings in your family’s favor. I always felt unsettled after seeing Mr. Branson on television, and now I know why.”
I spent the next hour providing Detective Calhoun with a statement.
He left, promising to return when Kiyah was rested to obtain her statement.
I collapsed into an armchair and ignored my phone buzzing in my pocket.
It buzzed again, and I braced myself when I noticed the call coming from an unknown number.
Immediately, I answered and waited for the caller to speak.
“Mr. Baker, we’ve never had the pleasure of meeting before.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Desi. I worked for Mr. Branson.”
My fingers curled around my phone with a punishing grip. Desi was the one who helped Branson commit all his atrocities. He was also the man who set my wife free.
“I have him.”
Briefly, time stalled, and all the gruesome things I thought of doing to Branson when I got my hands on him rose to the surface.
“No, you don’t. Branson is on his way to Venezuela.”
“Mr. Branson’s body double is on his way to Venezuela.”
“Body double?” I repeated in disbelief.
“He found it necessary to employ a body double—not particularly for instances like these, but it came in handy.”
“He sent his body double to Venezuela to throw the police off his scent,” I whispered.
“Incorrect. I sent the body double to Venezuela so that you and your family can dispose of Mr. Branson.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I wouldn’t either if I were in your position, but I’m doing this for Anna, Pete, and my brother.”
“He killed Anna, didn’t he?”
“Both times… yes.” He paused, taking a breath, then continued.
“Anna and I were… involved. I loved her, and she found out she was pregnant with my child. We planned to flee together; however, she was anxious and wanted to get as far away from him as possible. She didn’t stick to the plan, and everything fell apart.
He hunted her down and ran her over with his vehicle.
She wasn’t breathing when I arrived. I performed CPR and brought her back.
Mr. Branson took the car and left. I stayed behind and called 9-1-1.
It was cruel of me to bring her back, but I didn’t know it at the time.
I didn’t know he would use her as a prop for his campaign, and I didn’t know he’d pull the plug. ”
“But you knew everything else, and you’re just as fucked up as he is. So don’t sit here and try to spin me some bullshit love story,” I hissed.
“I did what I had to do to keep myself and my loved ones alive.”
“And my sisters?”
“Their attack was ordered by Mr. Branson. He eavesdropped on a conversation Kiyah had with Daisy and Nori, and he wasn’t fond of how they spoke about him and tried to convince her to leave.
Mr. Branson had threatened to send my brother to prison if we hadn’t complied.
My brother was in prison once before, and let’s just say, he wouldn’t survive a second stint.
We did what he had to do to survive. And if it makes you feel better, Daisy killed Sutton.
I harbor no ill will toward your family. I just want to disappear.”
“Disappear with all of Branson’s assets, huh?”
“I’m not a greedy man, Mr. Baker, but I did take what was owed to me for pain and suffering,” he replied.
“And what about Pete?”
“Kiyah loves him. You will care for him and his massive fortune. Pete is now the sole owner of Sentinel Security and other business ventures.”
“Did Branson have Mr. Stone killed, too?”
“No. Mr. Branson told me to do what I wanted with Mr. Stone. He is alive and well, and anxious for Mr. Branson to cross over. Once that is done, Mr. Stone will return as the head of Sentinel Security until Pete can assume the role.”
I exhaled slowly, the weight of the decision settling into my bones. This wasn’t about protecting my family anymore. This was about making sure no one else ever lived through what his victims had.
“I’ll meet you. But I will not be alone.”
“I didn’t expect you to be,” Desi replied. “I’ll text you the coordinates.”
“No, you bring him to me. I’ll text you.”
The line went dead, and I stood there in the hospital room with the phone still pressed to my ear, and my heart hammering with clarity and resolve. I understood that whatever came next, there was no going back.