And now I have to figure out what the fuck happened to my parents, who I guarantee haven’t given a single shit about me in the past five years.
Damiano stares at his phone, probably at the picture I forwarded to him, the one the kidnappers sent to me. He says, “Who are our enemies?”
“Point Ops.” I don’t even have to think about it.
“Right, but they’re a company. They aren’t going to go to such an extreme measure as kidnapping their competitor’s parents.” Damiano shakes his head in disbelief.
“Maybe,” I say. “But don’t forget, someone tried to kill you like ten days ago. That car accident wasn’t really an accident.”
“And we found the guy who tried to kill me. Francesco. Now he is dead.”
“I don’t think it was him,” I say.
Damiano looks up sharply, understanding dawning on his face. “Because of the truck driver. Baldwin said he’s missing.”
“Exactly. How could Francesco make the truck driver disappear? He’d have to kill him, and he doesn’t have the resources to hide that sort of thing. A body or some other evidence would’ve shown up long before now. But Point Ops…”
“Point Ops could make anyone disappear,” Damiano finishes. “Fuck me.”
“They’re trying to get rid of us, of Nove. And now they’re using my parents as leverage.” What Erich Pointer, owner of Point Ops, doesn’t know, is that my relationship with my parents is strained at best.
Damiano sets down his phone. “We still don’t know for sure that Point Ops is behind this.”
“There’s no sender information.” I jab at my screen again. “At least not that I can find. I’ll take my phone down to tech, see if Fozz can make anything of it.”
Thirty minutes later, Fozz looks ready to tear out his giant, gray beard. “They ran this through a thousand different programs before sending it to you. It came from a burner phone, no doubt, and the origin is impossible to pin down. Sure, it says it came from San Antonio, but I guaran-fucking-tee that was only the last point before it reached you.”
I take back my phone. “There’s not much else to do, is there?”
Damiano nods as I open my phone and send a single text.
You have my attention.
We wait.
MADISON
No word from Seth or Damiano. I’ve sent each of them a text to check in, and while I don’t expect paragraphs in return, a hey things are okay, we’re just busy would be nice.
Maybe I’m being too needy. They’re busy, obviously.
I spend the next hour straightening up my pantry. The cans on the shelf tipped over at one point, so I right them, making sure nothing is dented or damaged. I even alphabetize them, because I’m bored.
It’s late afternoon, too early for dinner, but I won’t let social norms be the boss of me. I grab some snacks and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, then park myself in front of my laptop for an epic zombie-watching party. I have three episodes of Night Walkers to catch up on.
The next few hours find me on the edge of my seat. A new band of marauders has broken into the compound forged by our original group of heroes. It’s chaotic and messy, and if I’m reading the signals right, we might soon have a Romeo and Juliet-type situation between one of the original heroes’ daughters and a marauder’s son.
As the two star-crossed lovers are about to kiss, my phone buzzes. It’s Damiano.
I rush to pause my show and answer. “Hey.”
“Bella.” He sounds exhausted. “It is good to hear your voice. I’m sorry Seth and I have been out of contact today.”
“No, I get it.” I’m understanding. I’m not needy. “There’s an emergency. Have you found Nick and Sonia yet?”
“No. No contact from their kidnappers, either, although Seth and I have some suspicions, of course.”
He doesn’t share. I don’t ask. I’m not needy.
