Page 38 of Sigma

“Who are you, and what do you want?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

“Let’s start with…” a pause. “Ten million dollars.”

I suppress the urge to laugh. It’s insulting. You kidnap the daughter of a billionaire, take his wife hostage, and then ask for ten million dollars?

It smells off, to me.

“You didn’t need to bring me to Berlin for that.”

“You will have it delivered to you, in cash.”

“How?”

“Call your husband. Tell him it’s…a down payment.”

“On what?”

“The life you ruined.”

“And ten million dollars will fix it, will it?”

“Not even close.” A pause. “Have your friend Anselm deliver it.”

“I don’t know how to get ahold of him.” I don’t give away my shock that he knows who Anselm is.

“Lies will not aid your cause, Kyrie Abigail St. Claire Roth.” A quick silence. “Say hello.”

A soft breath. “Hello? Mom?” Rin’s voice, shaky, but clear.

Before I can respond, tears springing in my eyes, it's the male again. “So you understand. She’s alive and well, for now. Ten million dollars, delivered by Anselm and received by you, within twenty-four hours.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“I think not.”

“How do I know she’s unharmed?”

“You will have to take my word for it.”

“I think not,” I say, echoing his own words. “I need proof.”

A sigh, as if I’m annoying him. “Very well. Smile for me, beautiful girl.”

The phone in my hand chimes, and I pull it away from my ear. There’s a photograph of Rin. She’s dressed in a sultry, sexy red dress, revealing and not at all like anything she’d wear. Her hair is down and clean and glossy. Her eyes betray confusion and fear, but she appears unharmed. The background has been blurred out via a bokeh effect, so there’s no hint of where she could be from the photo.

“Have you touched her?” I demand.

“Make the call, Mrs. Roth.”Click—silence.

I toss the phone onto the table. I don’t like this. At fucking all.

I sigh, pick up the phone again, and dial the number I need. It rings four times. “Ja.”

“Anselm?”

“Ja.” A short, soft breath. “Kyrie. I have heard—”

“I’m in Berlin,” I cut in. “Not by choice. They want ten million dollars delivered by you, to me, here, within twenty-four hours.”