Page 4

Jack

My gaze trails the woman in black. She’s leaving. With no fight at all, she’s leaving what could have been a lucrative client. I’ll give it to Uncle Mark. The man possesses unique friends.

The heavy front door closes. Through the glass, I watch as Arrow security greets her near her car.

He’ll ensure she leaves the premises without wandering around.

It’s good that she’s leaving. There was something about her that unsettled me.

The heavy makeup offset those enormous eyes and made it difficult to do anything but stare.

She held herself in a way that denoted strength.

Shoulders back, spine straight, and something I can’t quite define. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop staring?

“I like her.” My daughter’s soft-spoken words tear me away from the scene outside.

“You just turned her away?” The sixth therapist we’ve met. The first to arrive at our house.

“I didn’t say I want therapy. I just said I liked her. She listened. And she wasn’t ninety.”

Be patient . I stifle my exhale, hoping Sophia doesn’t pick up how incredibly challenging it is to remain calm when I want to throttle sense into her. “All of us listen. I listen.”

“No. You don’t.” A touch of her mother’s defiance flits through her expression, ever so briefly, before she spins and heads off to her bedroom.

I give up.

Fuck .

My hands ball into fists. My head falls back, and I gaze up at the ceiling.

No, I don’t give up. I will never give up. She’s my daughter.

My drink is still on the terrace, and I could go sit outside.

But I expect Ryan and Alexandria will go for a walk on the beach, and I’d prefer to give them privacy.

Ironically, Ryan and Alexandria began dating while working to find Sophia.

Ryan, or Wolf as we used to call him, is an old friend from my Navy days, and Alexandria was a close friend of Sophia’s mother.

As one of the founders of Arrow Tactical Security, he’s visiting this weekend to review security measures with me, and Alex is here to spend time with Sophia.

But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also enjoy time together.

Sure, I’m paying him and investing in Arrow Tactical, but it’s their weekend, too.

Seeing them together, how their faces soften when they look into each other's eyes and seemingly communicate wordlessly, reminds me of me and Cassie.

At least, how we were in the beginning. So many years ago.

I push the door of my office open. Out of habit, I scan the shelves and my desk, searching for any new item or for anything out of place. Paranoia, it seems, is the price I pay for the discovery that a greedy son of a bitch placed listening devices in my home.

In my office, I push the chair away from the desk and stare out over the Pacific. A motorboat in the distance sails over waves. Farther out, a large cargo ship passes, but it’s so far away it looks more like a toy boat than the massive rig it is.

This morning, a layer of smog coated the sky, but the afternoon sun burned it away.

As I stare out across the bright blue horizon, those outsized brown eyes and shaggy black hair overlay the sky.

The woman didn’t waste time. I’ll give her that.

One brief assessment and she left. No need to linger. No need to pitch herself.

I should head outside. Go for a run or a swim. Something to clear my head. But first, I owe Uncle Mark a call. I’ll let him know his recommendation crashed and burned, and express gratitude for sending her out.

As I pick up my cell from the charger, a name flashes on the screen. FBI Agent Ryland.

“Ryland,” I answer.

“Jack. I have some updates for you. Am I catching you at a time you can talk?”

“Yep.”

“Wayne Killington has a bail hearing set for Monday.”

“Okay.” The bastard can’t possibly…"You don’t think he’ll be released on bail, do you?”

“District attorney thinks it’s likely.”

“No.”

“He’s got a good defense attorney and—”

“That is not acceptable—”

“I know. I hear you.”

“Clearly, you don’t.”

“We aren’t happy about it either. But he’s not deemed a flight risk. No priors. High standing in the community.”

“He lives in my fucking neighborhood.”

“I know.”

“I can’t leave my neighborhood without passing that bastard’s house.”

“I understand. The district attorney will request denial of bail, but he gave us the heads up that he’s not hopeful.”

That bastard not only slept with my wife when we were married, he arranged for my daughter to be abducted.

The men he hired plugged her up with heroin and raped her.

And they want to let the fucker out on bail?

My teeth grind. Rage and a sense of helplessness battle deep within. This is fucking bullshit.

“If he’s released, we recommend you file for a protective order.”

“He kidnapped my daughter. Do you really think he’s going to care about violating a protective order?”

“Probably not. But it’s always a good idea to file one.”

Our justice system is beyond fucked up. Everyone knows a protective order doesn’t do jack shit, but yes, let’s all dance around and pretend it works.

When I end the call, I find my way to the other end of the house. Sophia’s bedroom door is closed, and my knuckles rap softly against the solid wood.

“Come in.”

Sophia’s freshly showered. She’s changed into a pair of loose pajama pants and a long sleeve sweatshirt, and her hair is wrapped in a towel on the top of her head. She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.

I sit on the edge of the bed and pat the area near me, gesturing for her to join me.

Her eyes narrow, questioning what’s going on.

Her newfound defiance is good to see. For so many weeks, she did little more than cry, piece puzzles together, or attempt to sleep.

Hearing about Wayne might uncover the buried rage, the anger she must feel at having had her innocence torn from her.

A healthy dose of fury might be a good thing for Sophia.

“Agent Ryland called.”

She’s stoic. I want to pull her into my arms and hold her, but she’ll stiffen. When she stiffens, it absolutely kills me because I can only imagine what she’s gone through. So, I face her, leaving my arms open on the off chance she wants to be held and comforted.

“They set a bail hearing for Monday.”

She says nothing. She doesn’t move.

“They expect he’ll be released after paying bail.” She’s completely unreadable. Eyelashes fluttering and her chest rising and falling as she breathes are the only discernible signs of life. “We won’t know until Monday.”

Still, nothing. No reaction. My chest aches.

“He won’t come near you. We have security. I probably shouldn’t have told you. There’s nothing to worry about. I don’t mean to scare you.”

Thoughtful, clear blue eyes, so much like her mother’s, study me. “You did the right thing. I need to know. Thank you. Can I… I’m going to take a nap now.”

With a nod, I reach for her knee and squeeze. She stiffens. My chest throbs.

When I reach her bedroom door, I glance over my shoulder. She’s lying on her bed, on her side, knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Her eyes are closed. There’s a light blanket draped over a chair in the corner of her room, and I lay it over her.

My baby daughter, so frail and hurt. My heart shatters for the umpteenth time. I want to take her pain away and make her whole. I want my happy, carefree Sophia to return. And I don’t know how to make any of that happen.

* * *

“How did things go with the therapist?”

Alex’s voice breaks my trance. I’ve been sitting outside on the veranda for god knows how long.

Alex, or Alexandria as my late ex-wife called her, is the closest thing Sophia has to an aunt.

Cassandra, Sophia’s mother, considered Alexandria to be a little sister.

She lived with Cassie and her dad as an exchange student before we were married.

Alex lives in Santa Barbara now, but since the abduction and recovery last month, she’s visited twice.

Sophia loves her, and I’m beyond thankful she’s been coming around because I suck at handling this.

Sophia needs a woman. Hell, what she really needs is her mother.

“Sophia liked her.” I rest my temple on the tips of my fingers. My head aches.

“That’s good.”

“She also says she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” I hate this helpless feeling.

“She needs to, though.”

Alex isn’t wrong. My daughter is currently curled up on her bed in the fetal position and there’s nothing I can say or do to make it better. Therapy is my last resort. The last sane option I have at my disposal.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan comes into view. He pulls Alex into his side, and for a moment, seeing the two of them together burns. I get up and lean over the railing, ensuring they aren’t a part of my view.

“Wayne Killington will very likely be released on bail.” An audible gasp confirms Sophia and I are not alone in being disturbed by this prospect.

“We’ll increase security. We can set up surveillance over his property. If he leaves, we’ll know.” Ryan aims to reassure me, and I have confidence in his abilities.

I don’t have to tell Ryan that they should spare no expense. I paid a one-hundred-million-dollar reward to get my daughter back. And in the past month, I’ve earned nearly that sum back from interest and growth on investments. Ryan knows I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

I also want her healthy. I want my happy, smiling, carefree daughter back.

“If she liked the therapist, maybe you can convince her to meet with her.” Alex is remarkably good at reading people. I don’t have to say much, and she seems to know what I’m thinking. Ryan is a lucky man. If Cassie were a mind reader, she and I might have worked out.

“She lives pretty far away,” Ryan says. “I can have my team research alternatives. Find someone who lives closer.”

“My uncle recommended her.” Ryan doesn’t need to waste his team’s time. A long commute isn’t insurmountable. We didn’t get off to a great start, but she’ll come around. At least, it’s worth an offer. “If she doesn’t work out, then I’ll check in with you.”

Ryan Wolfgang isn’t a man I would expect to be knowledgeable about San Diego therapists. But then again, I didn’t know he had a sister.

“So, your sister.” Alex rubs Ryan’s arm in a consoling manner. “She knows the therapist?”

“When we visit Indie tomorrow, I’ll ask.

I did some top line research on her facility, Nueva Vida, and Ava Amara has earned a wealth of local accolades.

I can see why your uncle recommended her.

But your uncle isn’t from here. He doesn’t understand the hellish drive she’d have across town, or you’d have to get to her out in the Valley.

I mean, I suppose you could take your helicopter. ”

My phone vibrates, and I check the screen. “Speak of the devil. It’s my uncle. Probably wants to know how it went. I’m gonna take this inside.”

Out of habit, I meander into my home office. “Uncle Mark.”

“Jack. How’d it go?”

“Not sure. Sophia may not be ready to talk to anyone.”

“That’s not an option. And you know it.”

Ever since my father died, Uncle Mark has stepped in with his version of a fatherly role.

He likes to manage me like I’m an employee, but given he doesn’t have any kids of his own, one can’t blame him.

Plus, I’ve worked for him for years. He mentored me and prepared me for the CEO position within our family company, Sullivan Arms. As chairman of the board, once each quarter, I present to him.

He’s my biggest supporter, and given my brother wants nothing to do with him or the family business, for all practical purposes, I’m the only family he has.

“Jack, you need to trust me on this. Ava’s good. She’s good with people. She’ll help Sophia get her feet back on the ground.”

“I’m going to look into other therapists who are closer to home. I’m told her commute would be undesirable.” She also left without being asked to leave.

“Jack. Listen. Go with someone we know. That we trust. Someone you can trust to not share Sophia’s experience with the media.”

“Any therapist would lose their license if they talked.”

“And make a ton selling the story to the press, even as an anonymous source. The tabloids would pay a mint for Sophia’s story.

Why risk trusting a stranger?” Would a therapist really do that?

I can’t blame my uncle for being cautious, but his concern sounds extreme.

Then again, I’m the one who thought a security system from the nineties combined with a gated community would keep my daughter safe.

“You trust this woman that much?”

“I do. I wouldn’t recommend her to my family if I didn’t.”

If Uncle Mark is this certain, I’ll pay her a visit. She didn’t offer her services, but that doesn’t mean she won’t work with Sophia.

Everyone has a price.