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I knew exactly what she meant. It wasn’t her fault, but she still felt responsible. She hadn’t been able to talk her friends out of going with their kidnappers, just like I hadn’t been able to talk them out of going.
“Thanks, Ms. Lee.”
“Call me Ruby. I’ll be in touch. Somehow.”
“Okay. Bye.” She ended the call.
Shayna had reluctantly gone along with her two friends in Jamaica and then jumped off her Jet Ski and nearly drowned. She’d been rescued by some other locals who returned her safely to the resort.
My phone buzzed again.
“Detective Lee.”
“Don’t talk to that girl again.”
The same voice from two days ago. My father’s voice. I’d recognize its ooze anywhere. I knew my phone wasn’t tapped, which could mean only one thing. My father—or someone who worked for him—had witnessed Shayna’s call to me.
“Two calls in a few days?” I said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” My father racked my nerves, but I was determined to play it cool with him. I had to if I was going to make him trip up.
“You heard me, Ruby.”
“Listen, Theo. I don’t hear from you in ages, and then all of a sudden you appear with your girlfriend a few months ago and want to see me. And now you call me. Twice. Seems like you’re getting a little nervous. Now that Simpson and Wade are out of the picture, are you starting to feel a little worried about getting caught yourself?”
“I’m not falling into any of your amateur traps, girl,” he said. “Just watch your step.”
The line went dead.
Nausea crept up my throat. For all my confident words, I was still a wreck when it came to my father. Damned if I would let him know that, though. I initiated a trace on the number he’d called from, knowing it was futile. But…procedure. Then, just in case, I ran a check on my own phone. I was right. It hadn’t been tapped.
My father was good. I’d give him that. I’d have brought him down a long time ago if he hadn’t been. But he was getting nervous. He’d just made an irreversible error.
He’d proved that my hunch was correct.
He was involved in the disappearance of Juliet and Lisa. Why else would he care if I talked to Shayna? The capture of Wade and suicide of Simpson were getting to him. He was in this alone now, and sooner or later, he’d trip up.
Now, more than ever, I was all in.
I made a quick call to the LAPD and filled them in, hoping they’d give Shayna some protection. Then, knowing Shayna wouldn’t, I called the FBI. They promised to look into the possibly illegal phone tapping, but I wasn’t optimistic. This was small potatoes to them.
I longed to call Ryan and tell him I’d talked to Shayna and to my father, to tell him about my theories. But no. I’d leave him alone for now. He was still recovering from a concussion, after all, and even more than that, his entire world had recently been turned upside down. I had to let him deal with everything. Plus, I had a buttload of work to get done. The PD was of course overworked and understaffed, and I was still catching up from my vacation time in Jamaica.
Come tonight, though, if I hadn’t heard from Ryan, I was driving to the ranch.
Chapter Eight
Ryan
“We’ve got nothing to talk about, Tal.”
My brother—half bro— Oh, hell.
Talon shook his head. “The hell we don’t. We’ve come this far. Two of those degenerates who raped me have been taken care of.”
I couldn’t help but notice how much easier the word “rape” left Talon’s lips. He was truly healing. I was so proud of him, of his strength. And I felt like a self-absorbed little shit. Talon had been through so much—way more than finding out his mother wasn’t who he thought she was. I closed my eyes as he continued.
“One’s behind bars and the other is dead and buried. Only one is at large. We’ve come so far, Ry, but damn it, none of it is worth shit if it costs me my little brother.”
There he sat, sipping iced tea—my strong, determined half brother.
