Zara’s voice softened. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
“Dani and Cassidy have been abducted,” he said, his voice far calmer than his shaking hands. “You’ll probably see it on the news. I wanted to tell you first and make sure you and Penny were good.”
“Oh God,” Zara gasped. “That’s terrible. Oh God. Kyle, I’m sorry. What—what?—”
“I don’t know anything,” he replied quickly. “My colleagues are working on it. If you call back, you’ll probably get one of them. Josie Quinn. You can trust her. Just be careful, okay? Be vigilant.”
“You think he’s behind this?”
Turner sighed. “I don’t know, Z. My colleagues will be questioning him in a matter of hours. He doesn’t know where you are. There’s no way he could possibly know. Just be safe, okay? I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up and tossed the phone back onto the table. When he finally looked at her, there was a defiant thrust to his chin. “Come on, Quinn. You gonna ask me or what?”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Did you have an affair with this woman?”
“What do you think?”
There was a softness to Zara’s tone—was it gratitude, or something else? Did it matter?
“Jesus, Turner. What’s your angle here? You want me to say I think you had an affair? It doesn’t matter what I think. It may not even be relevant.”
“I want you to— You know what? Never mind. No, I didn’t have an affair with Zara.”
He wanted a fight. That much was obvious. He was a master at riling people up, Josie in particular, but he was off tonight. His façade was crumbling. Regardless, she wasn’t playing his game. He could distract himself from his terror some other way. Her sole focus was Dani and Cassidy.
“Is Zara her new name?” Josie asked. “When we talk to Emmer, I don’t want to give it away.”
“No. Not new. Emmer knows her as Zara.”
He gave her Zara’s new name and address.
“Did Dani know about Emmer and his vendetta against you?” Josie asked.
“Yes, of course,” Turner said. “I wouldn’t leave my wife in the dark like that.”
“When is the last time you had contact with Dustin Emmer?” Josie asked.
Turner gestured toward his phone. “A couple days ago. He calls me at least once a week, sometimes more, to try to convince me to tell him where Zara and her daughter are and when I don’t, he gets angry and rants about how I had no right to take her from him. I let him call because as long as he’s calling me, he hasn’t found her. You’ll see the calls on my log. He’s got some colorful names for me. Way more creative than you and Palmer. Maybe you two could get some pointers from him.”
More deflection. She was on to him. He acted like an asshole so he didn’t have to think about how horrible his reality was in the moment. Then he said whatever he had to in order to piss people off so they didn’t look closely enough to see his pain.
“Shut up, Turner.”
She gave Spot one last pet, charmed by his sweet temperament. It wasn’t until she reached the door that Turner called after her. “That’s it?”
“No, that’s not it, Douchebag. Now I’m going to find your family.”
TWENTY-ONE
“This is his house?” she asked, watching her mother pace the stone floor of the cellar. Cobwebs hung from pipes overhead. It was dank and windowless, lit only by a single light bulb near the top of a rickety set of wooden steps. Other than the furnace, hot water heater, and a few buckets filled with cleaning supplies, it was empty. Though she swore she could hear rodents scurrying around in the dark corners.
“I think so,” said her mother. “I’m not sure.”
She’d seen the exterior when they arrived, but it was dark and she hadn’t gotten a good look at it. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the interior either since he’d been in such a rush to lock them away in the cold, dirty basement.
She and her mother hadn’t spoken since he’d forced them into his truck and driven them here. Not that they could speak freely in front of him. Neither of them had wanted to draw more of his attention. In the back of his truck, her mother had slid an arm around her shoulders and held her. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry. It would only make her mom feel badly and give him a sick satisfaction that she refused to hand over.
Now, though, having been left in this horrible room, the tears spilled down her cheeks. What if he never let them out? What ifhe killed her mom? What if she had to stay here alone? What if she never escaped? What if she escaped and he caught her and decided to punish her for it?
