“At this point, that’s all I have on Jinx.”
“Can we really trust her?” Dutch asks me, his expression somber. “I feel far less assured now that I know Jinx is the one controlling whether or not I speak to my wife.”
“She has the skills, Dutch. I was there when she decrypted the line and got through to Mom. We don’t have a choice.”
He blows out a breath.
“But,” I add, “we don’t have to leave everything up to Jinx.”
“What do you mean?” Zane accidentally kicks the wine bottle to the ground. He dives after it like it’s a child and cradles it in his arms. “Sorry, baby. Sorry.”
Dutch frowns worriedly.
My gut churns in an unpleasant way. I guess this is what worry feels like.
Zane sets the bottle down and faces me again. “I’m listening.”
“Follow me.” I lead my brothers to the music garage. It’s one of three garages, and it’s been converted into a practice studio.
Dutch’s prized guitar is in its stand, gathering dust.
Zane’s drums still have the protective covering on them.
I hand Dutch his guitar, and he runs his fingers over the strings. Each one holds a letter that spells CADEY, and the last string is a heart.
It’s strange to be back in this room again. It feels like, at any moment, Cadence and Grey will skip into the room, enjoying the music while we practice.
“What are we doing here, Finn?” Zane growls.
“Music is not a priority right now.” Dutch flashes me an angry look as he throws his guitar back in the stand. He used to worship that thing and never let it touch the ground. But now, he doesn’t even care about it.
“J found traces of Mom through the internet. That means the girls might have access to the internet too.” I pick up the guitar and shove it back into Dutch’s arms. “We can’t talk to them in the traditional way, but there are other ways to get a message out there.”
Dutch’s eyes widen. His fingers tighten over the guitar neck.
Zane shakes his head. “I don’t deserve to play right now, man. I should be searching harder for Grey. I should be doingsomething.”
“You hired the PI team. You’ve been driving around that mall and looking through footage every day. You’re doing everything you can.” I squeeze his shoulder.
Dutch nods his agreement. We’ve both seen how Zane threw himself into the search.
“But I can’t force either of you to play,” I tell Zane.
“If there’s even achancethat I can let Cadey know I’m thinking about her, I’m taking it.” Dutch’s chin rises a notch.
Zane catches on to the idea and gets behind his drum kit, while I turn on the camera.
“Do you think it’ll make a difference?” Zane asks, reaching for his drumsticks. “Do you think they’ll be able to hear us? Because there are things I want Grey to know too.”
“We’re The Kings.” I slip my bass guitar over my head and face my brothers. “We’ll make so much noise that they’ll hear us wherever they are in the world.”
A smile grows on Zane’s lips, and a familiar spark returns to his eyes. “We’re The Kings.”
Dutch plays a complicated riff. The guitar isn’t hooked up to an amp yet, but his fingers are so precise that I can hear the melody clearly.
Looking hopeful for the first time since the girls were kidnapped, Dutch grinds out, “We’re The Kings.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
