AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She was an obstacle that, once removed, would clear a way for him to reunite with his man, his husband, and the life that should finally, and rightfully, be his.
He had yet to figure out how he would end her life and what to do with her body once her spirit had left it, but those were the kinds of details he was good at figuring out. He’d had more than a little practice. Usually, he thought, murderers worked too hard tohidethe evidence of their transgressions. What worked better than getting dirty and sweaty digging a grave in the middle of nowhere or dumping a weighted body in water (which never seemed to stay where one wanted it to) was hiding the corpse in plain sight. For example, a fire with one’s parents in it was actuallylesssuspicious if their blackened hulks were there to be found, rather than missing. A middle-aged gay man with his throat slit? As long as one cleaned up after oneself, the authorities would assume (rightly, in Steve’s case) that he’d been careless inviting an online trick over.
And so on.
He might just toss her in the lake, let her float. The injury to the back of her head could have occurred when she slipped off the deck.
He’d attend to her in a moment.
But first, he wanted to get Connor’s attention even more. He visualized him at the Westin, with the burner phone and his cryptic message, worried sick and feeling oh-so-helpless. Of course, Trey knew he’d assume it was Trey himself behind all this, but he’d prove to him it wasn’t, not at all, when he arrived downtown to save the day.
Connor was famous. Rich.
And people like Connor sometimes had their loved ones abducted for ransom. That’s what would happen today.
He picked up the burner phone and texted:
She’s safe. But not for long. To keep her in one piece, meet me in two hours (I will advise you of the location when it’s time). I require $100,000 dollars in cash, small, unmarked, nonsequential bills. Brown paper bag. You can do it. You will do it if you want to see Miranda alive again.
He hit Send.There, that should do it.
He set the phone down and turned to finish Miranda off. This was almost too easy—but Trey was always careful not to leave any tracks. Any fool with patience and a smidgen of forethought could get away with just about anything without much effort.
His phone sounded. He pressed the screen, smiling, and brought up Connor’s text.
I’ll be wherever you say. Just let me know. Send me a picture, or better yet, a video with her holding something, like today’s newspaper.
Trey typed:
You don’t call the shots here. I do. Do not, I repeat, do NOT involve the authorities. Do NOT try to put yourself in charge here. You’re being watched. If I see anything suspicious or get so much as a whiff of anyone else’s involvement, I’ll kill the bitch. And I’ll make it hurt. Now, go get the funds together. You have two hours. I don’t want to hear from you again. I will text you at the end of that time with an address.
He sent the message and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring.
Now it’s time to kill the bitch, so to speak. Kidnappers often weren’t the most ethical and truthful people on the planet. It would be a shame Miranda’s life was snuffed out, so young, filled with so much promise.
But it was the only way.
He turned to make sure she wouldn’t ever breathe again, anticipating the moment when her heart ceased to beat.
But she was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
IT HAD BEENa hassle to get the money together on such short notice. A hassle, but not impossible, thank god. When Connor was driven, which was not all that often, he was focused and determined. He didn’t have much opportunity these days to demonstrate his strength and tenacity because, until recent events, his life had been charmed. He couldn’t deny it.But who appreciates a charmed life, really, until it’s taken away?
It was odd to him that Trey or some anonymous kidnapper had asked for so little. These days, a $100,000 ransom was a laughable sum. Why not ask for a million or two? His was not to question why. He was simply grateful that the relatively small amount made it possible, if not easy, to put together.
He had to throw himself on the mercy of his financial advisor, who was able to cajole his regular bank to have the funds delivered to him at the Westin, for a very large fee. But no matter. He needed to do what he needed to do to get Miranda back safely.
He was sick with worry for her. It was hard to stop the mind movies that started up and stopped without cease—Miranda bound and gagged, Miranda trapped in a small concrete-walled room, Miranda weeping for her daddy, Miranda dead. The last was too much to bear.
The money was in his hands with fewer than ten minutes to spare, per the deadline. In a way, he was grateful for the time on the phone trying to get the $100,000 together. If he hadn’t been, he feared that he may have literally lost his mind with worry and despair.
The kidnapper at least was timely.
In exactly two hours, the next text arrived.
I assume you have the funds together for Miranda’s safe return. Going with that assumption, I want you to place the money in the laundry bag that’s in your hotel-room closet. Take the bag to the Fremont Troll, under the north end of the Aurora Bridge. There, you will leave the bag under the troll’s left fingers. And you will leave. Very quickly. Do not look back. Again, do not bring anyone with you, or the consequences will be dire. Text back yes if you can do this. If you decide you can’t do this, I will kill her. I will be watching for your arrival at exactly 7:00 p.m.
