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“We know you are in there, Angelique D’Aboville! Or should I call you Carmen?” The agent’s words through the closed farmhouse door aren’t in French. They’re in English.
Oh, God.
They know.
61
Jessica
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
I stand perfectly still in Violet’s hallway, like a wild rabbit that’s hoping the wolf doesn’t notice it if it doesn’t move.
The front door clicks shut—followed by the louder click of a deadbolt.
“Go into the living room.” Dunbar’s sharp tone hooks on to my heart and yanks it into my throat.
I swallow, trying to push down the fear of what will happen if I ignore him. He pokes the back of my head with the barrel of the gun, nudging me forward. I enter the room.
Violet is sitting on the couch, mascara streaking her face. There’s no sign of Sophie. It’s late. Hopefully, she’s fast asleep in bed. Hopefully, she’s safe.
Fear I’m too late slices my insides with dread and regret. Fear that maybe I didn’t act soon enough to save Violet’s daughter.
Violet’s eyes widen…and then squeeze shut for a beat. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I heard a scream,” I reply. “And came to check on you. The door was open.”
“We’ve got a problem,” Dunbar says.
I look over my shoulder to see who he’s talking to. He’s on his phone, explaining what exactly the problem is. Me.
“Let me know what you want me to do with her.” He ends the call without acknowledging what the other person said. I can only hope he was forced to leave a voice message, buying me time.
He points with the gun to the couch. “Sit!”
I do as I’m told. I have a feeling things won’t be ending well for me, so I don’t want to push my luck. Every moment I can stall the inevitable, the greater the chance Troy will return before it’s too late.
Dunbar stands in front of us, his face impassive. He doesn’t say anything, and I have no clue what to say to defuse the situation. I learned with my husband I was better off not saying anything than I was trying to negotiate with him.
I’m too nervous to even say anything to Violet. The note I wrote for her in Lucas’s SUV remains in my hand, the page still folded into a tiny square. There’s no way I can give it to her without drawing Dunbar’s attention.
Not that it matters anymore. I don’t know if help is on the way—or if it’s going to arrive too late.
Urgent pounding from the front door causes my body to jolt. Violet starts to get up to answer it.
“Sit!” The cop shoves her back onto the couch.
The pounding comes again. “FBI! Open the door!”
Violet’s shock-rounded eyes match my own. FBI?
Chief Wilson. He called the FBI and told them Violet kidnapped their daughter. If my husband could have gotten away with it, he would’ve done the same. It’s the final bent nail in the coffin. The reminder Chief Wilson holds all the power.
Blood rushes to my ears, blocking the sound of the FBI agents on the other side of the front door.
