“Do you really think Gwen’s been selling secrets? It doesn’t sound at all like her.”
“Our profilers say she’s the weakest link.”
“So, they shot and almost killed Henry to frighten her? Is that what you’re going with?”
“It’s one possible scenario. The other is, those two were in cahoots. One other thing, which didn’t make sense. She got a text from her ex. What’s your take on him?”
“He’s a turd of the worst type. No physical abuse but gaslighting. He made her think she was nutso-wacko. It didn’t go over well with the female judge in their divorce case. He tried for sole custody and lost. Now, they try to get along for the sake of their kid.”
“Would he hurt the child to get to her?”
“From what I saw, he was a doting father, but who knows what goes on behind closed doors. I’ve seen too much horrific shit to say. Howev-ah, there is no way Gwen would leave her daughter with Farid if she thought Abbie was in danger. She’d flee the country first.”
I glance at the time again and sigh. “Thanks. I need to get on the road. Open a new burner and call me when Henry wakes up. Stay safe.”
“You’re the one exposed, mate. I’ll be underground.”
Chapter 5
Go away, Wolf, and have a better idea, if you can.~Clever Polly and the Stupid Wolf,byCatherine Storr
Gwen
I can’t believe Lucky and a man named Wulf put me in a Town Car, and like the spineless moron I am, I let them do it. I should’ve said no, fought back, and stood by Henry. What the fuck is wrong with me?
My therapist will feast on my self-sabotaging behaviors for the next twenty years if I live that long. Not long ago, she suggested I often resort to childhood thought patterns. I tried to change them, and still, if Simon says jump, I fucking do it.
“Shit!” When I punch the seat in front of me, the sixty-ish driver glances in the rearview mirror and raises his brows.
“Are you alright back there?” For a kidnapper, he’s extremely polite. Perhaps I can use this to my advantage.
“I need a bathroom. Sorry, too much coffee.” My head tilts, and I attempt to flutter my lashes.
Frowning, his eyes shrink and flick off me to the road. “Not a good idea, miss.”
I try the door handle, and it doesn’t give. It figures he’s engaged the child locks.
Crap. Lochlan’s firm often partners with law enforcement. “Am I under arrest?”
“Do you want to be?” His question is a clear warning, but in one way, I breathe easier. At least he won’t stop the car, shoot me in the head, and leave my body for the turkey vultures.
“Fine. Don’t blame me if I poop in your back seat.”
“Understood.” His arrogant smirk reminds me how everyone assumes I'm eighty-five-point-seven percent milquetoast.
The next time he glances at me, I glare back. “I could garrote you while you drive.”
The irritating guy starts laughing. “Seriously? I read your file, miss.”
“Well, if Iwerea killer, you’d be the first to go.” Somehow, the threat sounded better in my head.
“Yes and thank you. Why not take a nap? The time will go by faster.”
Boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine…As I chant, another text appears on my phone.
UNKNOWN: If you care about Abigail, don't talk to anyone about anything.
Before I can hit save, the message disappears. In the past, I may have been spineless, but I have recently attended self-help meetings and therapy and yelled at myself in the mirror. I am strong. I am invincible. I am a goddamned woman. Fuck this shit.
