Unspoken (42 page)

“Interesting gambit on her part. Think it will draw him out?”

“He’s running so short of funds he risks kidnapping a child? I think Christopher will stew about the money and try to figure out a way to determine if it’s really there. He scared her so badly she kept silent for years. He’ll know it’s a trap, but it’ll nag at him till he has to find out if the money is there and if the note might be legit.

“I had to scramble today on the off chance he tried for a lightning grab of the cash as soon as he found the note, which is why I didn’t bother to go through the details earlier. I wasn’t sure we could get it put together in time. But we’re set up now, and the money is still in place.”

John turned on his laptop and went into the security feeds. An image of the house and grounds where Charlotte had been held appeared, taken from above. “We’ll know when the man turns up. This view comes from a thermal camera mounted on the old analog television tower. There are several other layers of surveillance that should work regardless of the weather. None of which is going to be visible to a person trying to decide if it’s safe to approach the house to pick up a payment.”

“Where did you put the cash?”

“The upstairs bedroom closet shares a wall with the bathroom. While she was held there, Charlotte figured out she could move the built-in shoe rack in the closet and get into the space behind and under the tub. She used to hide things there. He knows the spot exists.”

“Let’s hope he takes the bait.”

“If he doesn’t, Paul will find him. It’s hard to run very far when your photo is everywhere and the reward is large enough it’s worth someone’s time to call and turn you in.”

“How long, John?”

“Probably weeks rather than days. You’ll need to keep her occupied, and her mind off of this.”

“Easier said than done. She’s already working to the point of exhaustion trying not to think about it.”

He was watching Charlotte mentally living in two worlds as the memories intruded, split between the past and present. The art, the work, kept her anchored in the present. Get this man caught, get the past truly finished, then he’d see how Charlotte was reacting.

Part of him was braced for the possibility she might crumble and get all the memories back in a tsunami wave of relived details. It would be the fast way toward healing, but traumatic. The opposite concern was if she told herself it was finished and tried to deny the memories the time they needed. He hoped for a smooth center path that gave her the ability to absorb and cope with the memories, share them, and be able to move on with her present.

She couldn’t predict what was coming, and she was so nervous about it that she didn’t know what to do to cope. At least it gave him a clear job—help her get through the days ahead with minimal turmoil.

Bryce turned the conversation to the topic that had been on his mind all evening. “Where are you at with security? I’ve noticed the changes.”

“It’s going to be stiffening even more in the hours ahead, around you and Charlotte, Tabitha’s family, and yours. Since she was able to send that note with the ransom payment for the boy, Christopher knows now that she’s somewhere in Chicago, that she’s closely involved with law enforcement and the search to find him. That ramps up the security equation.

“There are limited ways Christopher can find out her current name, the fact she married you, and where she is. I don’t think a direct threat from Christopher is any more tangible today than it was a month ago. That’s why I’m not insisting you both leave town right now. But you’ll both see and feel a lot more security
until this is over. I’m also adding tightened security around the reporter Gage Collier, as he knows too much about Charlotte not to cover that base, and also around Ellie.”

“I want Charlotte out of here, John, before there’s any additional concern,” Bryce said. “All it takes is you saying this is an active threat, and she’ll stop arguing the point and pack. We could be anywhere in the world rather than here.”

“The situation changes, I won’t hesitate to say go,” John agreed, “but we’re not at that point yet. And I think it’s important that Charlotte be here to see this end. I think it will help her in the long run to have confronted this head-on, which is why I let that note from her go out in the first place. Christopher isn’t winning this one. That matters.”

Bryce understood his point. “I want another discussion on this every few days. Taking her away from here is the one thing I can do.”

“Agreed,” John replied. “Get a trip planned, a vacation, pack some bags, so if you need to go on short notice, it’s already arranged. I’m not interested in taking a risk, Bryce, I just know how costly—and I don’t mean money—it can be to take her out of her routine. I don’t want to ask her to pay that price unless it’s necessary. But this gets any more tangible, I will tell you to leave.”

“Let’s hope for both our sakes Christopher hits that house sooner rather than later,” Bryce murmured. “You’ll call, John, whenever there’s something to know, no matter how small?”

“You’ll be my first call, no matter the hour,” John promised.

T
he phone woke Bryce. He listened, turned on the bedside light. “I’m on my way, John.”

He paused outside Charlotte’s bedroom door but heard no sound. He walked downstairs. He would leave a note rather than wake her. It had been a month and there’d been two false alarms already.

“I’m coming with you.” Charlotte stepped into the kitchen from the sunroom.

“I didn’t know you were up.”

“I was on the couch, watching the moon.” She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table to put on tennis shoes.

“John said there was movement around that house.”

Charlotte nodded. “Even if it’s another false alarm, I’d still rather go than wait here wondering.”

John had an office at Chapel Security, with the ability to monitor their home, their vehicles, and now the house they would soon demolish. Bryce parked in the side lot, came around to open Charlotte’s door, walked with her to the back entrance where he used his security card to enter the building. The security
personnel who had driven over with them melted out into the shadows.

Bryce had finally figured out one mystery. When he had originally ordered a background check on Charlotte Graham the day he’d first met her, he’d unknowingly asked it of the firm that provided her security. When Charlotte’s grandfather had paid John in advance enough to keep Tabitha and Charlotte safe for their lifetime, John had used some of the funds to become Chapel’s silent business partner. The company had been providing John tech support and resources for the last seven years. The background report Bryce had received from Chapel had been all true, but very carefully worded.

Bryce and Charlotte joined John in his office.

“There’s someone now in the house.” John pointed out the movement on the screen from the thermal camera. “He’s been inside about two minutes. He spent the first twenty just walking around the area outside the house.”

“How did he arrive?”

“He came by car, parked to the east.”

John picked up the radio. “Mitch, let’s disable the car. Something simple but effective, like the distributor cap.”

The thermal camera showed an image moving toward the car. John tapped the screen. “This one is Mitch, this one is Joseph.”

The image in the house was walking around, entering various rooms, but moving at a leisurely pace. “This doesn’t look like a man trying to get in fast and get out. It looks like someone finding a vacant house for the night to sleep in,” Charlotte observed.

“We’ve had two such guests over the last month, so it could be. But this one drives a nice car, and the plate numbers come up as a rental.” John picked up a handful of pecans. “The nice thing about whoever it is, he’s stepped into my world.”

John paused as another image appeared from the direction of the river. “That makes sense. Send in a decoy with your car, let
him check the house, see if alarms go off, cops come in.” John reached for the radio. “Mitch, Joseph, you’ve got one coming from the east near the river. Sit tight. We don’t do anything until the money moves.”

The two images met up near the front door of the house. Then the first man walked away, heading toward the railroad tracks. “Let him go by,” John told Joseph. It looked on the screen like the man walked within ten feet of Joseph as he left.

“Mid-twenties, sandy hair, a jacket three times his size, carrying a bottle of scotch,” Joseph radioed back.

The man in the house wasn’t wasting time. Within minutes the dot tracking the money began to move.

“Mitch, Joseph, he’s got the bags. Let him get out of the house, get back to the car. Let him think he’s getting away with this.”

The image was moving fast now, tracking a man who was running. He reached the car, got in. Time passed.

“He’s realized his car isn’t going to start,” John said. “Now’s the interesting question he’s wrestling with. Did the guy he paid to help him just turn on him, or does he have worse problems, and the cops are there? He’s on foot with his money. He has no chance if he tries to take it all with him; it’s too much weight and size. If he leaves the money behind and runs now, he has a slim chance.”

“He’ll carry some of it, what he can pull out of a bag,” Bryce guessed. “Will we lose the tracker on the money if he does?”

“He would have to open the plastic-wrapped bricks of cash, find the tracking chips, and do it in the dark. He won’t find them all.” John smiled and pointed. “There he goes with a bag of money heading to the river, probably thinking he can try to drown the tracking chips. Won’t work with these—they’re waterproof and nearly indestructible.”

John radioed Joseph, “Let him get to the river.”

John glanced back. “Charlotte, do you remember why you’re afraid of water?”

“Yes.”

“Should I repay the favor?”

She watched the man as he hurried toward the river. “I’d rather you just end this.”

“Take him, Mitch.”

Two images merged, and the man stopped moving.

John put the photo Mitch sent up on the screen. “Now that’s not what I was hoping to see.”

“That is not Christopher Caleb Cox,” Bryce agreed.

Charlotte leaned her head against Bryce’s chest and wrapped her arms around him. He had to get her to ease her grip so he could lift her chin and see her face. She was silently crying. He wiped her eyes and wrapped her back in a hug. “It’s time to call Paul, John, see what the cops can convince the man to say. He knew where the money was at, so he’s at least been in contact with Christopher.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I recognize him. His name is Bill Davidson, and he used to work for the uncle who owned that house. His criminal record runs for pages.” John reached for the phone. “Do you want to put the cash back in the house, reset the trap?”

Bryce looked down at Charlotte’s bent head, then to John. “Return the cash to the house.”

John nodded and turned his attention to the phone. “Paul, we’ve had a bite on the cash. But not exactly the one we wanted.”

Bryce took Charlotte home.

John called shortly after seven a.m. Charlotte nodded to the studio and escaped the kitchen rather than listen to the update. Bryce watched with concern as she disappeared. “Yes, John.”

“Paul’s been able to get some answers. Davidson got a call from Christopher and an offer. In exchange for information about where the uncle had hidden some money, he would retrieve the money and pass on half of it to Christopher via the Madoni family. He thought he was recovering some of the original Bazoni kidnapping ransom.”

Bryce refilled his coffee mug. “Interesting pitch.”

“Caught me by surprise,” John agreed. “Davidson called Christopher from the house to say the money was there, sent a photo, and was told to get on the Interstate heading south and call Christopher again in one hour for instructions on where to take half the cash.”

Bryce winced. “So Christopher knows Charlotte’s note was good, knows there was cash at the house, and also knows since Davidson didn’t call him back in an hour that he’s either been double-crossed or Davidson has been picked up by the cops.”

“The number Davidson was to call is no longer being answered,” John confirmed. “Christopher knows there’s trouble and will assume the cops are involved.”

“What would have stopped Davidson from simply running away with all the cash?”

“Christopher told Davidson there were three stashes of cash, and if Davidson wanted in on the other two, he would honor this first deal to the letter. Davidson believed it.”

“I’ll give Christopher credit for offering a good story. So what now? The money is back at the house, but it’s highly doubtful Christopher will expect it to be back there or that he will try for it again.”

“We’re at a dead end. Paul has some phone numbers to work, but otherwise I think this attempt to draw Christopher out is over,” John said. “This goes back to the tip line, Christopher’s photo circulating everywhere, and cops searching to find him.”

Bryce was tired enough he would leave sorting out the
implications of what had happened for another day. “Thanks for the update, John. I’ll give Charlotte the news.”

With each passing day Bryce could see the increasing toll on Charlotte. She needed this to be over. Up to this point she had buried herself at the drawing board and with her sketchbooks for hours, but that had changed. She was no longer drawing. He would find her curled up with a book, or in the kitchen baking muffins or bread, but her sketchbooks remained closed. He was worried about the shift, about what it meant.

A week passed. The phone numbers gave the FBI leads on where Christopher had been, but opened up nothing on where to search next. A flurry of calls to the tip line and a number of sightings in the Detroit area looked promising, but turned out to be merely a man with a similar appearance to Christopher Cox. The search grew quiet again.

Bryce reached over and turned on the light at his end of the couch. Charlotte was sitting beside him, watching a movie, but not much of her attention was on the film as she didn’t bother to forward through the commercials. Bryce stroked her hair, and she turned to glance up at him. “What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer for a long moment, then sighed. “He’s going to kidnap someone else, Bryce. Christopher wasn’t sure if the money was really there or not, so he sent someone to check it out. Now he knows I was telling the truth. He’s not going to walk away from five million dollars. He’ll do what he knows, and he will snatch a child.”

Charlotte reached over and intertwined her hand with his. “If he snatches a little girl, calls the FBI, and tells me to send the five million to him to get her back, he knows I will do it. I’ve set someone else up for heartache with my foolish attempt
to draw him out. I should have never sent that note. I’ve put something in motion that can only end in tragedy. And I don’t know what to do.”

Her scenario was one of a few John already had gamed out for what might come next. Christopher was an unpredictable man, but with a pattern of kidnappings that had proven profitable to him. Bryce hadn’t talked about them with Charlotte, because talking about the what-ifs only set her up for things to worry about outside her control. But he should have, he realized now, as she had been doing so on her own, coming to the same point.

He shifted and encouraged her to lean against him so he could put his arm around her. “Charlotte, he might, and if he does it’s going to be a hard day, but we’ll deal with it together,” Bryce told her, keeping his voice matter of fact. “If something happens, at least we have the means to end it quickly. For now, we pray he gets caught. That is something we can do.”

“I’ve been praying that for the last month, and it’s become urgent this last week. My heart is going to break if God doesn’t answer this prayer.”

“Pray for what you want, Charlotte, and trust that God hears you. Then step off a cliff and trust His answer. I don’t know what God is going to do in this situation, but I trust Him and what He decides.”

“It’s really that easy for you?”

Bryce thought about it before he answered, “In this case, yes.”

She finally nodded. “I wish I had your confidence.”

Bryce hugged her. “Borrow some of mine.”