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“Fuck yes!” I scream out loud in the empty gym.
I have proof. The police will have a strong case and my father will go to prison for the rest of his life. I’ll be able to tell Bellamy the truth and make her forgive me.
Force her to if need be.
I dial her number next but my call is immediately answered by an automatic voice telling me the number is unrecognizable.
I grind my jaw so hard, I probably shave off the top layer of my teeth.
She blocked me.
I’ll spank her ass for that later.
First, I have to confront my father.
???
Robert:Come to the guest house.
A cryptic text from my father, just as I pull into my parking spot outside. He couldn’t have had better timing.
I’m looking for him too.
Walking around to the back of the house, I text the guys an update.
Me:Müller got him. There’s a DNA match. Confronting him now, the police should be on their way soon.
Phoenix:Wait for the police to get there. He’s dangerous.
Phoenix’s number flashes across my screen, but I decline the call.When I don't answer, another text comes through.
Phoenix:Don’t go in there and risk your life for this.
I put my phone in my back pocket as I walk up to the guest house door. Opening it carefully, I cross the threshold into the house. Turning to the right into the living room, I’m met with my worst nightmare come to life.
Bellamy is sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. Her wrists and ankles are tied to the legs of the chair using rope. Tape covers her mouth. Her head hangs limply on her chest and I see blood trickle down the side of her face.
I take two running steps towards her when my father steps between us, a gun pointed at my head.
“What the fuck have you done to her?” I ask him, fear making my voice unrecognizable. I walk up to him, pushing my chest against the barrel of the gun as I try to push him back so I can get to her. “Move, I need to make sure she’s okay.” I say, trying to keep the frantic note out of my voice.
He pushes the gun into my chest, forcing me back. “She’s fine.” He says, taking a step backwards. Without looking away from me, he grabs some of her hair and uses it to tilt her head back. Her mouth parts on a groan as she starts to come to, her eyes wincing at the pain. “See? She’s fine. At least for now.”
I try to think rationally, fighting the primal urge to beat him to death for touching her.
If I reveal how much she means to me, then he’ll definitely kill her. Her only hope is to stay the course and keep him talking long enough for the police to get here. Hopefully they’ll move with a German, not Swiss, sense of urgency.
Otherwise, we’re both screwed.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I overheard your call with the private investigator. Müller was it?”
Fuck. I yell at myself on the inside.
I hadn’t been anywhere near careful enough.
???
