Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(20)

“Nevada Baylor and Cornelius Harrison,” I told him.

He mumbled something into the radio and opened the door for us.

The interior of the house was as beautiful as the exterior. The place swarmed with similarly uniformed gym rats, all of whom paused to give us their versions of hard stares. We walked through the short foyer into a cavernous family room. Delicate furniture, a beautiful Oriental rug, a toy truck, a water gun on the floor, and a child’s paintings on the wall in beautiful modern frames. A massive Christmas tree stood in the place of honor, glittering with white and gold.

Rynda stood in the middle of the floor hugging herself. Rogan stood very close to her, one hand on her shoulder. His eyes were warm, and his face was concerned.

She saw me.

“Did you record the phone call?” I asked.

“Yes.” She held up her cell and hit play.

A male voice said, “You know what we want.”

The recording cut off.

“Did they say anything else?”

“No.”

“Do you know what they want?”

“No!” Tears wet Rynda’s eyes. “If I knew what they wanted, don’t you think I would’ve given it to them already? They have my husband!”

She wasn’t lying.

“Gather the children and pack your bags,” Rogan said. “I have a secure base in the middle of the city.”

And he just offered to move her into his HQ.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Rynda shook her head. “This is my house.”

Rogan’s expression snapped into a no-nonsense mask. He was about to order her around, and Rynda would balk. She was a Prime. I silently shook my head at him.

“Let’s sit down,” I said. “Everyone is really upset, so let’s just take a moment and catch our breath.”

I sat down. Rynda sat opposite me on the ornate sofa. She was breathing too fast. If I didn’t calm her down, she’d hyperventilate. I had to break her train of thought.

“Are these Kyle’s paintings on the walls?”

She frowned. “Yes. My mother had them framed.”

“He’s very talented.”

“Thank you,” she said, probably on autopilot.

“What about the water gun?”

“That’s Jessica’s. She loves ambushing him with it.”

“Where are the children now?”

“In the playroom with Svetlana.”

Her breathing deepened.

“Who’s Svetlana?”

“She’s from the nanny service.”

“How did you get the nanny service?”

“All of the mothers in the neighborhood use it. I don’t remember who recommended it.”

“When did you get the phone call?” I kept my voice quiet and steady.

She checked her phone. “Twelve minutes after ten.”

“Do you recognize the voice?”

“No.”

“Listen to it again, carefully.”

She did. “No.”

“Can you think of any enemies Brian had?”

“I told you already, no.”

“Rynda,” Rogan said, “someone grabbed a Prime off the street in broad daylight. It had to be a rival House. Nobody else would have the balls. Did Brian say anything? Was he angry with someone?”

“Brian doesn’t get angry.” Rynda sighed.

“Who is his biggest competitor?” I asked.

“House Rio,” she said. “But he wouldn’t know anything about that in detail. Edward runs the business. Brian grows mushrooms.”

Rogan was looking at me.

“Edward is in the clear,” I told him.

“Did you think Edward had Brian kidnapped?” Rynda shook her head. “Edward would never do anything to hurt me.”

Rynda’s cell phone rang.

“Put it on speaker,” I told her.

She answered the call and pressed the speaker button on screen. I gently took it from her.

Same male voice, controlled, even. “Give it to us, or he will come back home in pieces.”

“My name is Nevada Baylor,” I said. “I’m authorized to negotiate with you on Rynda’s behalf.”

“No negotiations.”

“We’re trying to meet your demands. We want Brian back home safe. But we require proof of life, so we know we’re dealing with the right people. In our place, you would want proof of life, wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause. A softer male voice said, “Rynda?”

“Brian!” Rynda made a mad lunge for the phone, but Rogan clamped her down. “Brian, are you okay?”

“Just give them what they want. Please.”

The phone call ended.

Rynda buried her face in her hands.

“FBI—” I started.

“No,” Rogan, Rynda, and Cornelius said at the same time.

Yes, why wouldn’t we call professionals who specialize in exactly this type of crime? That would be silly. “They will call again.”

“What if they kill him?”

“They won’t kill him,” Rogan said. “They went through the trouble of kidnapping him, which means they want their ransom. If they kill him, they’ll have nothing to negotiate with.”