Chapter 2 - The Caller Knows Emily’s Name
Richard did not answer right away.
The phone vibrated against his palm while Vanessa stared at him with a face that had gone almost gray.
“Is the girl ready?” the man repeated. “The plane leaves in two hours.”
Richard’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
Then the man asked, “Who am I speaking to?”
Richard looked at Emily.
She was still clinging to his jacket.
Her wrists were red where the rope had rubbed against her skin.
“This is Richard Hale.”
The line went dead.
Vanessa moved before anyone else.
She lunged for the phone.
One of Richard’s bodyguards stepped between them.
“Don’t,” Richard said.
Vanessa froze.
Marcus stood near the front doors, breathing hard.
For the first time since Richard arrived, neither of them looked angry.
They looked afraid.
Richard handed Emily to his security chief, Thomas Reed.
“Stay with her.”
Emily tightened her arms around Richard’s neck.
“No.”
Richard looked at her.
“Sweetheart—”
“No, Grandpa.”
Her voice shook.
“Don’t leave me with them.”
Something inside Richard broke.
He lifted her again.
“You’re staying with me.”
He turned toward Vanessa.
“Where is Laura?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Richard stepped closer.
“My daughter. Emily’s mother. Where is she?”
Marcus answered.
“She’s safe.”
Richard’s eyes moved to him.
“That was not my question.”
“She asked us to keep Emily here.”
Emily shook her head violently.
“No, she didn’t.”
Marcus snapped, “Emily, enough.”
Richard’s expression changed.
Marcus took one step backward.
“Do not speak to her like that again.”
Vanessa tried a different tactic.
“Richard, Laura is under enormous stress. She signed temporary guardianship papers.”
“You mean the papers hidden in your locked desk?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“They are legal.”
Richard looked toward the desk.
The handwritten letter lay beside the custody forms.
He had read only the first line.
I, Laura Bennett, voluntarily relinquish temporary custody of my daughter, Emily Bennett, to Vanessa Cole...
Richard knew his daughter’s handwriting.
This looked close.
Too close.
But Laura dotted her lowercase i’s with tiny circles when she was nervous.
She had done it since high school.
The letter contained six i’s.
Not one circle.
Richard looked at Vanessa.
“She didn’t write this.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“She signed it.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
Thomas stepped back into the room carrying another item from the SUV.
A padded envelope.
Inside was a small digital voice recorder.
Richard stared at it.
Emily stopped moving in his arms.
Thomas asked, “Do you recognize this?”
Emily nodded.
“Mommy’s.”
Richard pressed play.
At first there was static.
Then Laura’s voice.
Weak.
Breathing unevenly.
“I’m signing because I don’t have a choice.”
Richard’s entire body went still.
Vanessa whispered, “Turn that off.”
He did not.
Laura continued.
“They said if I refuse, Emily will lose everything.”
A second voice entered the recording.
Male.
“Just sign the page.”
Richard looked at Marcus.
Marcus’s face had gone white.
The voice on the recorder was his.
Laura answered:
“You promised she wouldn’t be taken.”
Marcus said:
“That depends on whether your father cooperates.”
Richard stopped the recording.
The room became silent.
He stared at Marcus.
“My cooperation with what?”
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa looked away.
Richard felt Emily trembling.
He turned to Thomas.
“Call the police. And get our lawyer here.”
Marcus exploded.
“You’re making this worse!”
Richard faced him.
“For who?”
No answer.
Richard looked down at the phone in his hand.
A new message appeared from the caller.
ONLY ONE CHANCE. BRING THE GIRL OR THE ORIGINAL TRUST PAPERS.
Richard read it twice.
Then Emily whispered:
“Grandpa... they kept asking Mommy where you hid the blue folder.”
Richard knew exactly what she meant.
The Hale Family Trust.
A folder he had not opened in six years.
A folder containing documents that controlled nearly everything Emily would inherit.
And suddenly the private plane made terrible sense.
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Someone was not trying to steal a child.
They were trying to use her to unlock something far larger.
