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“Three years ago, when Wayne was interim CEO, they launched a new marketing campaign. We’d need to look at the ads, but it appears they shifted from a hunting focus to a personal safety strategy. They followed the market, and it paid off.”
“Three years ago. When Cassandra died? Jack stepped down?”
“Apparently so.”
“Do you know who he was at dinner with Monday night when his daughter was kidnapped?”
“That gives Wayne Killington a potential motive. Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Motive doesn’t equal guilt. But yes. It’s also probably worth researching to see who else did well with Wayne Killington as CEO. My guess is Larry Reyes also did well. He moved into Wayne’s role as head of sales when Wayne moved up.”
This case has been particularly frustrating because it’s easy to create theories. But accumulating evidence is difficult if not impossible. I hope our game plan works. We need whoever is behind this to make a mistake.
“Do you want to stay here tonight, or do you want to go home?” He looks out over the balcony. I glance over my shoulder. I can see others near various windows, phones pressed to their ears.
“Jack will hold a press conference within an hour, don’t you think?”
“I do. The only reason they aren’t parked outside his house is because this is a gated community. But every major news station is parked outside those gates.”
“Let’s stay. If this works, I think it’s gonna go down fast.”
CHAPTER20
145 Hours Missing
Ryan
A replay of Jack Sullivan’s announcement plays on the muted television screen. The caption below the replay reads “Billionaire Jackson Sullivan Offers $100 Million for Safe Return of His Daughter.”
Two FBI agents remain in the house, conversing in the kitchen. Jack leans his head back against his office chair. His hair holds a greasy sheen, and his closed eyelids highlight dark circles. Gray whiskers mix with black ones all along his unshaven jaw.
“By doing this, I just ensured a degree of danger to every single billionaire’s family in the world.”
Alex’s downturned lips and sad, forest green eyes convey the weight of guilt. She must agree with him.
While it’s hard to harbor sympathy for someone who has amassed an obscene amount of money, no one should fear for their loved ones every single day. Regardless, Alex’s idea to turn the tables is a solid one. Later, when the case is dissected, many will argue that her recommendation represents out-of-the-box thinking that could save a life.
She didn’t recommend the one hundred million bounty. That’s a figure Jack came up with all on his own. To him, fifty million felt like too small of an amount. We’d all watched from the sidelines as he pleaded for his daughter to come home safely. His tearful, heartfelt message rang clear—he wants his daughter back, at any cost. The high dollar amount offered pissed the hell out of Ryland.
Jack’s phone rings. The ring tone is set to the loudest setting, and the shrill sound spills out of the open office doors and echoes in the open marble foyer. Alarmed, he stares at me, and I nod.Pick it up. He glances down at the phone, then shakes his head.
“It’s my uncle.”
The phone number he gave to call is being answered by employees at his PR agency. The other FBI agents left to sit with those employees to track any calls that come in. The chances that a phone call related to Sophia will go directly to Jack’s personal cell are low. But it doesn’t mean each time his phone rings his heart doesn’t jump start. Or that we aren’t dealing with someone who has his personal cell number.
Alex stands, and my hand goes to her lower back. It’s a natural movement, leading her out of Jack’s office to give him time to speak with his family. Both his brother and his uncle have been in regular communication with Jack since this began. His uncle is Chairman of the Board of Sullivan Arms but is otherwise retired. His brother left the family business years ago. From what I can tell, their interest is one hundred percent centered on Jack and Sophia.
When I close the doors to his study behind me, I follow Alex out onto the deck. Two hours have passed since the announcement. In a few hours more, Alex and I will go upstairs to bed, hoping to be alerted to a call.
This plan of hers is a solid one. But the wait is excruciating.
“Do you know Jack’s uncle? Anyone else in his family?”
She leans over the balcony. Her dark hair is wrapped up in and over itself, and as I step up behind her, my fingers tangle in the loops of hair, searching for the binding to undo it.
“I might have seen them at the funeral. But I don’t recall being introduced to them. Cassie and Jack eloped, so there wasn’t a wedding. Those are the only two places I would have come into contact with Jack’s extended family. Cassandra’s parents came out and visited us years ago.”
“Are her parents still alive?”
