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Without another word, he turns and strides to the door to disappear inside. My legs shake until I’m forced to sink back into the chair. I stare after him in a daze, alone and trembling from the intensity of our conversation.Argumentis more accurate.
I wish I felt better about standing up to Hayden, but the only thing left behind from the heated exchange is pain. My heart aches, sitting heavily in my chest as though perched on my ribcage. When I uncurl my fingers from being tightly fisted, I stare down at the crescent-shaped indentations on my palms, red and stinging. The discomfort will pass, but this friction with Hayden?
If he continues to clip my wings, I may not be able to fly… but I’ll run.
For good this time.
Chapter18
Hayden
I stormto the office and slam the door behind me. After throwing myself into the plush leather seat, I reach for my laptop and fire it up. The screen comes to life. Too restless to sit there and wait for it to complete its process, I pick up my cell phone and unlock it to call Zack.
If Calista won’t take the danger seriously, then I have no choice but to prove it to her.
“El Capitan,” the hacker greets, his voice chipper. “What can I do for you?”
“I want an update on Calista’s case.”
“First of all, I couldn’t find any dirt on her father. If he had any shady deals, they’ve been buried so deep that I won’t be able to locate them without a clue or place to start. Secondly, the package that was sent to Miss Green was rerouted several times before it ended up with the final courier. Whoever sent it didn’t want anyone to know its origins.”
I blow out a breath. “Damn it!”
“I feel you. I even contacted Sebastian to have a ‘friendly chat’ with the delivery guy and he didn’t know anything about the box or where it came from. He’s a dead end.”
“What about the note inside?”
Zack grumbles. “For the record, ‘Will wett ink ken?’ is a stupid riddle.”
“Did it stump you?”
“Not exactly. I started with the phrase itself. ‘Ken’ is commonly used in Scotland as ‘to know.’ Will wet ink know? Know what? That’s the question. Duh. I researched various uses for ink, the different types of materials used for it throughout history, and even went as far as to test the ink used on the note itself.”
“And nothing?”
“Right,” he mumbles, his frustration leaking into his voice. “Then I took each word and weighed them individually. ‘Wett’ is spelled incorrectly, and I believe it’s on purpose, which led me to rearranging the letters to form words and phrases. Turns out to be bullshit. I mean, did they really send a lullaby as a death threat?”
I tense in my chair, ready to end the call as my instincts urge me to return to Calista. All I can think about is her life in danger, yet hearing Zack discuss it has my insides churning with fear and rage. I force my muscles to relax until I’m reclining in the seat.
Zack continues on, oblivious to my turmoil. “‘Will wett ink ken’ spells out ‘Twinkle Twinkle.’ It was written by Jane Taylor, who was born in 1783 and died in 1824. Don’t worry, general, I looked into the dates, and nothing. Anyway, the lyrics stem from a 19th century poem that’s most likely another dead end. I—”
“Wait!” My shout startles Zack into silence, while my thoughts churn loudly inside my head like bombs detonating. “Twinkle twinkle, little star,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as a realization hits me. It solidifies when I picture the pill in my work desk, the one with a starburst in the center. “The date-rape drug has a star on it.”
“Hot damn,” Zack says. “I’ll go back over the list of pharmaceutical companies with this information in mind. This gives me a better timeline of when this drug compound hit the streets.” He pauses and then breaks through my musings with a small cough when I remain quiet. “I’ll get right on this, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I hang up the phone, staring into the distance. Whoever sent that note to Calista hasn’t only confirmed my suspicion that the cases are connected. This person made sure I fucking know it. And that they’re responsible for the delivery.
Along with my mother’s death.
Given the fact that they specifically sent it to Calista tells me they want me to know she’s gotten their attention. This is more than a scare tactic, it’s a warning.
My decision to bring her here, literally kicking and protesting, was the right call. I’ve always known in my gut that my choices concerning Calista’s safety were extreme, maybe even irrational at times, but now? I’m completely justified.
I lock my phone’s screen, toss it on the desk, and get to my feet. My thoughts about Calista propel me forward, to be by her side. I need to hold her, even if it’s only for a moment.
