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“You want me to drive?” Brandon now asks, hitting me with a look that I know all too well.
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my keys and throwing them toward him. “Thanks.”
We spend the short drive to Zoey’s parents’ house in silence. They actually don’t live that far from me, further around the mountains in a gated community out by the peninsula, with an impressive view of the lake. When we eventually pull into the drive though, I can see their place is a lot bigger, the huge circle driveway that curves in front of the house before leading to what looks like a four-car garage.
“I see why you’re not worried about the money thing,” Brandon says, glancing over at me as he turns off the ignition.
“Yeah,” I say, exhaling. “It’s really not an issue.”
“No shit,” Brandon says, chuckling a little as he reaches over to squeeze my arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
We get out of the car and walk toward the front door. Just as Brandon lifts his hand to the bell, I stop him.
“You okay?” he asks.
I shake my head, being anything but okay at this point. “No,” I admit. “But thank you for being here, Brandon,” I say, my hand squeezing his arm. “Seriously, I really appreciate it.”
Brandon smiles, slapping me on the back as he says, “Of course, Ethan, you know I’m here for you, whatever you need.” I nod and he leans over and presses the bell, the chime loud enough that we can hear it on the front porch.
The door is opened quickly, Pam standing on the other side, a worried expression on her face as she looks first at me and then my friend.
“Pam, this is my good friend, Brandon. Brandon, Zoey’s mom, Pam Holden.”
“Hi,” Brandon immediately says, his hand out to her. “I’m really sorry about everything you’re going through.”
“Thank you,” she replies, ushering us into the house.
Brandon and I follow her through the large entryway, past a set of stairs and through to a large kitchen and casual dining area at the back. Both Jeff and Max are there, along with Detective Simmons from last night, the three of them standing around the large kitchen island.
“Mr. Morrison,” the detective says, looking up at me.
“Ethan is fine,” I say, walking over to join them. “This is Brandon, my friend and business partner.”
I watch as the detective and Max both size him up as though they are trying to work out his role in all of this. Jeff on the other hand, extends a hand, a small smile on his face as he introduces himself.
“Can I get either of you something to drink?” Pam asks, moving to stand beside her husband.
“We’re fine, thanks,” I say, shaking my head.
“I understand you also received one of these?” Detective Simmons asks, gesturing to the letter sitting on the counter.
I glance over at it, see it’s virtually identical to the one I got. Four typed lines confirming that whoever sent this has Zoey. That they want money in exchange for her return and that we shouldn’t go to the police. The final line is a cell phone number, which is probably the most promising.
“I did,” I confirm, handing over the Ziploc bag. “Arrived just before Jeff called me.”
The detective nods as he takes the letter from me. “A coordinated plan it would seem, designed to take advantage of the fact that both of you will be interested in Zoey’s safe return and both of you have money you’re willing to exchange for it.”
I glance at Pam and Jeff, before turning to Max. He’s watching me again, but it’s not with the same open hostility as last night. “I guess this means whoever took her knew about us,” I say, turning back to the detective.
“It would seem so,” he confirms. “Given where they took her, it’s possible they have been watching you both, learning your routine and looking for the perfect time to strike.”
“Shit,” I exhale, scrubbing a hand down my face, knowing this is probably going to piss Max off all over again given his apparent views on our relationship. “So what now?”
“Well, we’ll take these and see if we can’t get anything from them,” Detective Simmons says. “It’s highly unlikely but we’ll check anyway. I suspect this number will be to a burner phone, but we’ll try and get a trace on it. I may need to ask one of you to help with that, so we can pretend you haven’t involved the police.”
“We can do that,” Jeff says with a nod. “What about FedEx?” he continues, gesturing to the envelope.
“Yes, we will contact them too,” the detective replies. “Again, highly unlikely, particularly with no return address, but you never know.”
