Page 67

Rhue

The same cop is sitting at the desk when I rush into the station. It’s a cold, grey morning and I haven’t slept once. Laura’s been brainwashed, Steve is on dad’s side, Madison’s gone and I’m—frantic.

I spent all night trying to figure out where Madison would have been taken. I spoke to Rita and Lindsey and Cameron just to cover my bases, to make sure that this wasn’t some kind of cruel practical joke—now they’re all trying to figure out how to find her.

I guess that’s helpful—but frankly I don’t see what they can do.

The cop looks up at me and sighs. “Contreras?” He asks, his forehead wrinkling.

“Yes.”

“Hold on.” He turns in his chair to pick up the phone, but I’m through waiting.

Contreras will get a head’s up, that’s all he needs.

I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring the shout coming from the desk below, and burst onto the second floor.

A few heads turn my way, but not many. I sprint for Contreras’s office and barely stop myself in time.

Dad’s in there. He’s leaning over Contreras’s desk, waving a finger in his face.

Contreras is holding the same posture, staring Julian down.

It’s a stand-off, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

Dad slams his fist on the desk. In the split second that his head’s down, Contreras locks eyes with me and jerks his head toward the stairs. Fuck!

I book it back down the stairs and out the door, past another frustrated shout. Fuck. I hurry to my car, wanting to be well out of sight before Dad comes back down. As I slide into the driver’s seat, my phone rings. “Yes?” I snap.

“Cool it, tiger, it’s Rita. Look, you said the kidnappers sent a picture, right?”

“Yes.”

“’Kay, cool. Forward that to me. Not a screen shot, forward the whole damn message to me. I’m at the police station in Ithaca.”

“Rita, I don’t think—”

“Obviously. Forward me the damn message and stop trying to play cowboy, Duke. In case you didn’t know, kidnapping and blackmail is against the law. You’re on the right side of it for once in your life. Stop fucking it up.”

I grind my teeth. I want to tell her she’s wrong, that this is bigger than the police, but she’s not going to listen. God, I hate the thought of anyone else seeing Maddie like that—but to hell with it. I pull Maddie’s phone out and forward the message to Rita.

“Sent,” I tell her. “Did you get it?”

Silence for a beat. Then, “Oh, my god. Maddie!”

“Yeah. So. There you go. There’s no help for me here—I’m on my way back.”

“What about Maddie’s step-girlfriend or whatever?”

“Noelle is—” I’m about to say she’s a last resort, but then it occurs to me that she might actually know more about my father’s specific assets than I do. “My next call. Hit me up if anything changes.”

“Ditto to you. And Rhue? We’re gonna find our girl.”

I call Noelle from Maddie’s phone.

“Hey, girlfriend!” She answers. “You got some more dirt for me? Election’s right around the corner!”

“I have dirt,” I tell her. “But I have to meet you in person. Where are you?”

“Who is this?” She demands.

“Let’s just say I’m someone who knows more about the Echeverias than virtually anyone on this planet.”

There’s a long, tense pause. “I’m heading out to Beach Avenue. You know where it is?”

Beach Avenue, why does that ring a—Sibel.

“Yep. I’m on my way.”

I meet Noelle a block from Sibel’s house.

It’s a cold, grey day, with strong and howling winds.

Lake Ontario trembles beneath it, its icy waters lapping at the rocky shore.

Above us, a red-tailed hawk circles the area.

These birds stay in flight for eons before they swoop in on their prey.

I should learn something from them. Patience.

Patience and the ruthlessness to take down my enemy.

Noelle gets out of her car—a sleek, understated grey sedan. She’s perfectly poised and hungry for a story, but also piqued with worry. At least that’s my impression.

There are too many cars parked out here for the time of year, I’m sure of it.

Then again, I’m permanently on edge, torn between despair and fury while Madison is being held against her will--or worse.

I shake my head. No. Not worse. She can’t be worse.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her.

“Well, well, Echeveria junior,” Noelle says as she approaches me warily. “Might I ask why you called me from my boyfriend’s daughter’s phone? And, on that note—where the aforementioned daughter might be?”

She’s wearing a navy-blue suit underneath a tan trench coat. She’s neatly groomed and elegantly fragranced. I assume she’s got a meeting later—something important to require this much effort for her physical appearance.

“He has Madison.”

Noelle stills, her eyes round with shock. “What do you mean, he has Madison?”

“My father. He had someone come into my apartment. He kidnapped her. He plucked her right out of my fucking arms, Noelle. Whatever I thought I knew about my father, it barely scratches the surface, and I’m fucking terrified that what’s below is far worse.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Echeveria, I have to—”

I snatch the phone out of her hand before she can finish dialing. She gapes at me as horror dawns in her eyes.

“What’s going on here, Rhue?”

“My father has Madison. He’s holding her somewhere so she can’t tell the world that he’s a fucking rapist before the election. You’re the only one in the world who might know more about his movements and properties than I do. You cannot call Mr. Willis.”

Her grey eyes flash dangerously. “You wanna tell me why, kid? He’s her father!”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “And what’s the first thing a loving father is going to do when he hears that his baby girl has been kidnapped?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “He’s not John Wick, Rhue. He’ll go to the police—”

“Exactly.” Her mouth snaps shut when I cut her off. “Guess where my dad is right now, Noelle? Tell you what, I’ll make it easy on you. True or false: Julian Echeveria is currently browbeating the last honest detective at the RPD?”

“True?”

“Correct!”

Noelle pauses for a long moment, cycling through all the options in her head. “Did Mr. Echeveria actually say he has her?”

I can’t help but scowl at her. “What, you think I’m wrong? That I heard wrong?”

“No. It’s just that he has a way with words. There’s more in what he doesn’t say than in what he does say—I’ve studied his interviews, and let me tell you—it’s a study in negative space if there ever was one.”

I hold out her phone. “If I give this back to you, are you going to call Maddie’s dad?”

“No.”

I trust her now that she knows what’s at stake. I hand her phone back to her, then pull out my own phone and find the recording. I play it for her, watching her face the whole time.

“Holy hell,” she breathes when I shut it off. She doesn’t need to hear the whole beat down. “The man believes he’s untouchable.”

“My fear is, he’s right,” I tell her. “I’ve sent all the evidence I have to my friends in Ithaca. They’re pursuing the police angle there, though there’s a decent chance my dad got to those fuckers too.”

“Why would he—”

“Because I go to school there,” I cut her off impatiently. “Because Maddie goes to school there. Because he’s a goddamned control freak and he’s pinning his entire fucking life on winning this godforsaken election.”

She’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “What evidence do you have?”

I don’t really want to show her, but I don’t see a choice here. I pull out Maddie’s phone and show her the picture. “That’s it,” I tell her as she gasps in shock and covers her mouth with both hands. “That’s all I have.”

She narrows her eyes at the picture, then blinks. “Can you send that to me?”

“What? Why?”

“Because I have photo editing junk on my phone, and there’s a background there. The flash is making it impossible to see anything, but if I could adjust the background, maybe we could get an idea of where she is.”

“How are we going to pick one room out of the hundreds of thousands of potential places?” I snap.

“You think Julian would take her somewhere I’d recognize, only to have his goon send me a picture of it?

You think he plays games…” I trail off, feeling like a complete fucking idiot.

Of course he would. He’d cackle at the idea of me chasing my tail, all while keeping her locked up somewhere I’d stumble onto her if I just went about my daily routine.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, and send her the picture.

The wind whips ice cold off the lake. Noelle shivers, then nods at Sibel’s house. “You know where we are?” she asks.

“Sibel Osman’s place. The last victim before Maddie.”

She nods. “It’s going to take time for me to enhance this picture. It’s going to take time for you to come up with a plan. You want to join me? She might be more willing to talk to me if you’re there. All I ask is that you follow my lead. Think you can do that?”

It’s a tough question. Right now, I’d like nothing more than to break down every door and beat everybody into a bloody pulp until I find Madison.

Unfortunately, that is exactly what my father expects of me.

Loss of control. Furious frenzy. Berserker behavior.

Anything that justifies retaliation via legal channels.

It’s what he’s good at—pushing people’s buttons until they lash out.

He proved it earlier with Laura and Steve.

Playing the fucking innocent right after he admitted he had Madison. Son of a bitch.

“I’ll do my best.” It’s all I can offer, given the circumstances.