Vincent was hovering near the entrance, still in the suit from earlier, a cell phone to his ear. He saw them and held up a finger. “Listen, I’ll call you right back. Hey, Ginny. Preston.” He stuck the phone in his trouser pocket. “Did you see the press conference? Kids did good, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ginny agreed. Shepherd could not for the life of him remember if there had been kids at Vincent’s press conference, so he added a noncommittal grunt.
“It was a good thing I did it, too. We just got another call. Come on. Grandfather will want to fill you in himself.”
Grandfather was a super weird way to refer to your grandfather, Shepherd thought. He is your grandfather, but you call him Grandpa or Gramps or something. Grandfather. These people, so highfalutin, can’t even make one measly ransom payment.
Vincent started up the stairs in a hurry, Ginny and Shepherd clambering after. “Another call?” she asked. “From whom? What did they want?”
“Kidnappers,” Vincent said. “More money.” He knocked onthe doors with the back of his knuckles twice before throwing them open. “Hey, everybody. Look what the cat dragged in.”
If Ginny was the cat, Shepherd was the hairball, spat unwanted on the carpet. None of her family acknowledged him. Which was fine.Hewasn’t the family trapped in the gothic horror novel;theywere. He was trapped in some sort of action tragedy, where his life explodes because of his own choices, not because of some supernatural force pressing down on him and making him odd.
“Hey,” he greeted anyway. Because screw them—he had manners.
Ginny put her hand on his forearm, her skin still warm from their time spent in the car. To shut him up or for moral support? He couldn’t tell, but it was probably a mix of both.
“What’s going on?”
“Virginia,” Elwin said her name from behind the desk like a judge reading a death sentence. “You missed the call from whoever has your mother. We heard her voice and confirmed that she’s alive and well.”
Ginny’s knees buckled. Shepherd reached out and grabbed her, tucking her into his side. “Thank God,” she was whispering, her eyes closed. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”
Bradley Kent walked over to them with his hands in his pockets, but worry in his eyes. “Sweetheart? They also raised the price of the ransom. It’s … completely out of reach for the timeframe they want.”
Shepherd held on to Ginny’s waist as he looked around the room. At the decadence in even the furniture. Nothing in the entire house came in a box, assembly required, with almost every item needed inside. “You don’t have the money?”
“Two million in cash?” Elwin Kent asked. “As shocking as it might seem, no. I don’t have that cash in an easily accessible place. Even banks don’t have that kind of money without advance planning and effort.”
Ginny wiped her nose with her knuckle. “Try something else. A wire transfer?”
“Don’t be silly, Ginny,” her stepmother said from the couch behind them. “These are low-level crooks. Any wire transfer they can set up would be easily traced. Don’t you watch TV?”
Bradley pulled his hand out of his pocket long enough to take his daughter by the shoulder. “We offered that, sweetheart. But they wouldn’t budge. Cash and cash only, by tomorrow night. We don’t have the time or the liquid capital.”
“So … so what?” She swayed on her feet. Shepherd steadied her. “So they … they hurt her? Kill her? And you’re OK with that?”
“Of course not, of course not.” Bradley moved closer to his wife. Current wife. Age-inappropriate wife.
That was unfair. There were lots of reasons to judge the Kents. The age gap was the least reprehensible thing he’d seen, come to think of it.
“Vincent has spoken with the chief of police personally, as well as an assistant director at the FBI’s field office. They are confident they’ll catch the kidnappers before they can follow through on their threats.”
Shepherd’s brow furrowed, his headache reengaging with impressive speed. “Threats? What kinda threats?”
Elwin raised a shoulder and brow in tandem. “They will send her back to us. Piece by piece.”
Ginny fainted. A quiet little huff of air escaped her lips before she fell, fortunately, towards Shepherd’s waiting arms. The huff of air that escaped him at the impact was neither quiet nor little, but he caught her anyway.
Shepherd carried her over the threshold of her bedroom, Scully and Mulder watching from their post on the wall. She was in his arms like an unconscious princess, which, considering her family and her current swooned state, was fairly accurate.
His butt started vibrating.
Shepherd placed Ginny on her bed. Her head hitting the pillow brought her into a post-unconscious state, and she blinked up at him. Her fingers curled into his shirt, her warm breath caressed his chin. “Shepherd,” she whispered from underneath him.
“You fainted,” he whispered back. His butt started vibrating again.
“I did no such thing,” Ginny replied.
