Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(93)

“What if the authorities won’t pay the ransom? There’s no way to renegotiate or confirm…”

“Z’s terms. He wanted to keep things simple. And actually, I agreed. Better to make it all or none. Puts more pressure on the insurance company.”

“But if the company won’t pay—”

“The company will pay, Libby. They have to. We delivered the proof they requested, the policy is up to date and frankly, the feds will probably make them. It’s in everyone’s best interest for tomorrow to go as planned. Trust me, in another twenty-four hours, we’ll be able to put all of this behind us.”

I studied my husband, still not convinced. My hands were shaking. I’d taken the methadone, which was supposed to reduce my withdrawal symptoms, but my sense of doom and gloom still wouldn’t go away.

“We don’t even know why they kidnapped us,” I muttered next.

“Does it matter?”

“They beat you!”

“I’m doing okay.”

“They terrorized Ashlyn.”

“She’s a strong girl.”

“How can you be so calm—”

Justin sat up so abruptly, he nearly hit his head on the upper bunk as he swung around to glare at me. “Still don’t trust me, Libby?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“We’re going home. That’s what matters here. One way or another, tomorrow, three P.M., you and Ashlyn will be on your way to Boston. My family will be safe.”

Then I got it, the source of my unease. There was a set to my husband’s shoulders I recognized. An edge to his voice. He’d made a decision, one that clearly put the safety of Ashlyn and me above his own.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid,” I heard myself say. “We all need to go home, Justin. We’re a family.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a nice twist of his lips. “Family? I cheated on my wife. Hell, I never even suspected what was going on with my teenage daughter. You tell me, Libby. How terrible would it be if I never made it back?”

“Don’t even talk like that. Your daughter needs you!”

“And you, Libby? What do you need?”

I wanted to tell him I needed us. I wanted to tell him if we could just get home, everything would be all right. But mostly, heaven help me, I saw in my future a lovely orange prescription bottle filled to the top with fresh white pills…

Z had been right. Family was a terrible thing to waste and that’s exactly what we’d done. We’d battled one another, we’d betrayed one another, and in the end, for what?

We’d return home, except instead of finding solace, we’d have to confront the wreckage of our lives.

And still my eyes welled up. I gazed at my husband. A man who’d hurt me. A man I’d lied to in return. And I found myself crying. For the home we used to have. For the marriage I’d thought we’d built together. For the future I’d always hoped to give my daughter.

Justin got off his bunk. He put his arms around me, and though I was stinky and smelly and awful, he tucked me against his chest.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “I’m going to fix this, Libby. Trust me, just trust me. Tomorrow I’ll make everything all right.”

I let my husband hold me. I focused on the reassuring strength of his arms, the sound of his heartbeat. Then I pressed my head into the curve of his shoulder because, once upon a time, I had loved this man so much and I knew, one way or another, I’d never get to feel that way again.

Three P.M. Monday.

Dead family walking.





Chapter 33


TESSA AND WYATT FOUND RUTH CHAN in the baggage claim of Terminal E. The petite CFO sported large sunglasses, a dark tan and a bad case of nerves. When she spotted Wyatt, approaching in his sheriff’s uniform, she visibly flinched.

Then, she squared her shoulders, adjusted her grip on her lone suitcase and marched toward them.

“Any word on Justin or his family?” she asked.

Tessa pegged the woman at late forties, early fifties. Obviously Asian in descent, but something else as well. An exotic woman, beautiful even in simple black yoga pants and a cream-colored wrap top. Though oversize sunglasses covered half her face, it was obvious she’d been crying. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, while a hoarse rasp thickened her voice.

“We have some questions,” Tessa began.

“I don’t want to go to the office,” the CFO stated immediately. “Someplace neutral, that would be best.”

Ruth had yet to eat. They settled on Legal Sea Foods, even though it meant switching terminals, as the restaurant had booths suitable for a private place to talk. Wyatt offered to carry the woman’s suitcase, but Ruth declined, marching resiliently forward, as if keeping moving was the secret to keeping composed.

Fifteen minutes later, they were ensconced in a back booth of the dimly lit restaurant. Ruth had parked her suitcase after removing a slender laptop, which she was now firing to life.

She had yet to speak to them, appearing to be on a mission. For now, Tessa and Wyatt were content to wait. They ordered clam chowder. Ruth ordered grilled salmon and a glass of white wine.

Then, the CFO took a deep breath and finally faced them. She had removed her sunglasses. Up close, she was a wreck. Wan skin, bruised eyes, haggard expression. A woman who’d either had the world’s worst vacation, or was taking the news of her boss’s disappearance very hard.