I kept pressing on, vine to vine. This was what I needed—purpose, something to build toward.
Even if I had no idea where I was going.
6
KICK
When I made it to the caves twenty minutes later, everyone was already there. Ridge had his phone out on the table, screen facing up.
He pushed it in my direction as soon as I sat down. “You’re never gonna believe this.”
A grainy surveillance photo filled the screen—Isabel in work clothes, pruning shears in hand, standing in a vineyard row. Her hair was up in a pony tail. She looked tired. But she was alive.
“Where—”
“Russian River Valley. Whitmore Estate.” Ridge swiped to another photo of Isabel talking to someone near an equipment barn. Yet another showed her walking toward a truck loaded with vineyard tools. “My PI was finally able to track her yesterday afternoon. Turns out she’s working there.”
“She’s working there?” It didn’t make sense. “Why would she?—”
“Because Baron would never look there,” Brix said. “And Whitmore’s the last person who’d tell him anything.”
He was right. Baron and Thomas Whitmore had been closer friends but had a bitter feud five years ago over a property dispute.
I studied the images, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. Isabel wasn’t kidnapped or hurt. She’d flown to San Francisco, driven to the Russian River Valley, and gotten herself a job at the one winery where her father would never find her. It made me feel like an asshole for even thinking it, but why would Isabel want a job that was the equivalent of a farmhand when she was an heiress to a million-dollar fortune? It was only one of a hundred questions I’d ask as soon as we were face-to-face. And that would sure as hell be later today.
“Vader needs to know,” Zin said. “The missing persons report is active. His office is coordinating with multiple agencies.”
“Wait.” I looked around the table. “Give me until tonight. Let me talk to her first. Find out what’s goingon. I’ll call Baron as soon as I know she’s okay. I promise.”
“Kick—” Brix started.
“Please. Something’s up if she’s hiding at Whitmore’s. Let me figure out what before we bring Baron and law enforcement down on her.”
The room was quiet for several seconds, then Brix nodded. “You’ve got until tonight. Then we call Vader, whether you’ve talked to her or not.”
I was already standing. “I’m leaving now.”
“Kick, wait—” Snapper started.
“No. I need to find out what the hell is going on, and I can’t do that over the phone.” Mainly because she hadn’t taken a single one of my calls, not that I needed or wanted to say that.
I didn’t wait for a response. I was already heading for the door.
I threwa bag in my truck minutes after I arrived at home, then got on the highway heading north. Five hours to the Russian River Valley. Five hours to get answers.
The miles disappeared under my tires as rolling hills gave way to flatter land, then more hills. Soon, everywhere I looked were vineyards, bare and skeletal in winter.
The entire way, my mind wouldn’t stop spinning questions. Why lie about Italy? Whitmore made sense for the very reason Ridge had said, given Thomas would never contact Baron and her father would never think to look there.
But why hide from Baron at all?
When the GPS announced the Russian River Valley exit, my hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I followed the directions to Whitmore Estate. The property sprawled across acres of hillside, with elegant buildings nestled among the vines. Old money. Established reputation. Everything the Van Orrs had, just in a different valley.
A worker passed by carrying pruning shears as I got out after parking near the main building.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Isabel Van Orr.”
