Thread of Revenge (The Joe Tyler Series, #6) Page 2

  And now we were in trouble.

  I forced myself to stand up and jogged down the stairs, my feet banging loudly on the bleachers. Elizabeth was still in the middle of the infield, still chatting with several of her teammates. I reached the fence at the bottom of the bleachers and waved at her, trying to get her attention. She didn't see me, caught up in conversation with her friends.

  I glanced down the track. They were still setting up hurdles for the next event. I put my hand on top of the waist-high fence, stepped back and then vaulted over it and onto the track. The all-weather surface was like one giant pillow beneath my feet as I jogged across it and onto the infield. I was aware of coaches looking in my direction, wondering who I was and what they should do about me. But I focused on Elizabeth and she finally saw me when I was about ten yards away.

  “Dad?” she said, sitting up straight. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to go,” I said. “Get your stuff.”

  “What?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “The meet isn't over and I have to—”

  “We have to go,” I repeated. “Where's your bag?”

  She frowned. “It's over there. But what's wrong? What's going—”

  “Grab it, okay?” I said. “Please? We need to go.”

  She exchanged looks with her friends. They eyed me curiously. “Dad, what is—”

  “Now, Elizabeth!” I snapped. “Right now!”

  “Mr. Tyler?” a voice said on my left. “Is there a problem?”

  I turned to see her coach, David Goff. He was in his early fifties, with a headful of thinning salt and pepper hair. I'd had several conversations with him during the season. He was pleasant, friendly, and seemed to know how to coach young runners. I liked him very much and trusted turning Elizabeth's running over to him. More importantly, Elizabeth liked and trusted him and had taken to his direction.

  “We have an emergency,” I told him, still watching Elizabeth, who was finally standing up. “At home. I need to take Elizabeth home now.”

  “Alright,” Goff said, a little unsure. “Anything I can help with?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “And I'm sorry to interrupt the meet. I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to.”

  Elizabeth walked over to me, her bag slung over her shoulder, an anxious look on her face now.

  “Okay,” Goff said, just as confused as everyone else who was staring at us. He ran a hand through his hair, then fingered the stopwatch looped around his neck. “I hope everything's alright.”

  I didn’t respond, just nodded.

  He forced a smile at Elizabeth. “Great run, Elizabeth. We'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  She glanced at me, then nodded. “Yeah. And thank you.”

  I put my hand under her elbow and we started walking.

  “What's going on?” she asked. “Why are you down here?”

  “Just walk,” I told her. “We need to get moving.”

  “You're scaring me,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

  We cut across the north side of the track, our feet bouncing over the soft track, and walked through the gate at that end of the field. I pulled my phone out of my pocket as we walked toward the car, scrolled through the contacts and punched Lauren's cell number.

  No answer.

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat, punched the number for her office and Genevieve, her assistant, answered.

  “Hey Gen,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control. “It's Joe. Is Lauren available?”

  “Hey Joe,” she said. “She's actually out meeting with a client this afternoon.”

  We crossed the parking lot. “I tried her cell and I really need to get ahold of her. She told me she had an appointment and that's why she couldn't get to Lauren's meet. Do you know who the client is?”

  “I don't,” she said. A keyboard tapped in the background. “It's a new client.”

  My stomach knotted. “New?”

  “Yeah, they called yesterday. They said it was urgent so she squeezed them in this afternoon,” she said. “Rusillo Holdings. You want me to try her on her cell?”

  “I did that already, but could you try?” I asked, hurrying toward the car, my hand still on Elizabeth's elbow, propelling her forward. “Put me on hold while you do it?”

  “Sure, give me a second,” she said.

  The line buzzed.

  “Is Mom okay?” Elizabeth asked as we reached the car.

  I nodded. “Just need to talk to her.” I opened the door for her and waited until she was in, then closed it.

  Gen came back on the line once I was behind the wheel. “Joe, you there?”

  “I'm here.”

  “She didn't answer,” she said. “She probably has it on do not disturb. She usually does that for meetings.”

  “Can you give me the address?” I asked. “For Rusillo Holdings? Or wherever they were meeting?”

  “She didn't go to their office,” she said. “They aren't local. The guy was in from out of town. They were doing a late lunch.”

  The knot grew in my gut. “Where?”

  “Hang on,” she said and I heard more tapping. “She has it on the calendar that they were having lunch in Little Italy. Filippi's.”

  “Okay, thanks, Gen,” I said, shoving the key in the ignition. “When you hear from her, would you tell her to call me right away?”

  “Sure. Is everything okay?”

  “Just have her call me. Thanks,” I said and hung up.

  “Where's Mom?” Elizabeth asked.

  The car's engine came to life and I looked at my daughter. Everything in her expression was now on red alert. Blown pupils, flushed cheeks, her mouth a thin, tight line. She knew there was a problem, and I didn't want to lie to her. She'd been lied to enough in her life already.

  I took a deep breath, hating what I was about to tell her. “I don't know.”

  FIVE

  As we crossed the bridge out of Coronado and into downtown San Diego, I had Elizabeth do a Google search for Rusillo Holdings on my phone. She found a link to them and told me they were located in Salt Lake City, Utah. She handed me back the phone and I pushed the link on the site to call them. A very nice, very confused woman told me that she had no record of any associate with their small, family-owned company traveling to San Diego for business and couldn't imagine why he or she would be meeting with an attorney regarding their business.

  The hostess at Filippi's hadn't seen anyone matching Lauren's description despite having been there since the restaurant opened that morning. She checked with several of the servers and the kitchen staff, but no one had seen her. I walked the entire restaurant to check for myself, checking the faces of the customers.

  Lauren wasn't there.

  Elizabeth came with me into the restaurant, as I was afraid to leave her alone in the car. When we walked back outside, she said, “Please tell me what's going on, Dad. Please.”

  I nodded and we got into the car. I locked the doors and checked the mirrors, then set my phone on my thigh so there was no chance I’d miss a call or a text. I tried to center myself, tried to control both my tone and expression.

  “I've told you before that a man helped me find you,” I said. “A guy who was not such a good guy.”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I remember that.”

  “I met him in Minneapolis, when I really started getting close to finding you,” I explained. “The man he worked for? I located his son. As a result of that, Mr. Codaselli asked this man to help me. Which he did.” I paused, remembering the chain of events. “And then I needed him again, to get to you. He helped me. Which meant I owed him.”

  She considered all of that. “Like, money, or what?”

  I shook my head. “Not money. A favor. And it was clear that whatever was asked of me, I'd have to do it. No questions asked. That was the deal.”

  She nodded, but I could see she wasn't getting it.

  “This guy, he's no
t a good guy,” I said, repeating my description. I knew it was vague but I didn’t want to overwhelm her with details right away. “He helped me because I helped his boss, and when I needed his help a second time, he said yes because he knew he could use me.” I paused. “He's not a good guy and what he wanted me to do wasn't good.”

  “What does this have to do with Mom?” she asked. Her hands were folded in her lap and she picked at her nails, scratching off the pink polish that coated them.

  “I'm not sure yet,” I told her. “But the thing I was supposed to do as a favor?” I shook my head. “I didn't do it. And the guy knows I didn't do it and he's angry.”

  “But how do you know all of this?” she asked.

  I recounted my conversation with Beltran at the track.

  Her hands stilled and she shifted in her seat. “So, what? He's threatening Mom?”

  “I don't know yet,” I said, thinking of Beltran’s veiled comment. “But I'm worried. I can't get hold of your mom and she's not where she said she was going to be. This guy...” I looked out the window and shook my head. “This guy is bad, Elizabeth. That's all I can say.”

  “He'd hurt Mom?” Her voice was small, thin. “To get back at you?”

  I thought for a moment. “Probably. He still wants me to do what he asked me to do.”

  “What's that?”

  I shook my head. “Better that I don't tell you, okay? Just know that it's something I didn't think was right and didn't want to do.”

  We sat there without saying anything for a minute. My mind was racing. I needed to know where Lauren was. But in my head, I knew Anchor already had her. There were too many signs for me to think or hope otherwise.

  “So this is my fault,” Elizabeth said.

  I looked at her and she was staring down at her hands. She wasn’t picking at her nails anymore.

  “No,” I said. “It is absolutely not your fault.”

  “If I'd never been gone—” Her voice trailed off.

  “Which was never your choice,” I reminded her. “Never your choice. This is not your fault in any way.”

  She didn’t respond, just kept her eyes on her trembling hands.

  I wanted to tell her something that would put her mind at ease, but I could see how she was connecting the dots. She wasn’t doing it correctly, wasn’t following the trail that really existed. She was drawing her own conclusions and I knew what she was thinking made sense to her. To her, I would never have had to go to Anchor if she hadn’t been abducted. Which meant we wouldn’t be in the car right then, worried about Lauren. It was incorrect to think that way, but it was the way a kid thought, and it definitely played toward Elizabeth's tendencies to feel guilty about things. I wanted her to know that it wasn't her fault she'd been taken, and it wasn't her fault that it took me so long to find her. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that we were in this current mess.

  That belonged to me, and me alone.

  I started to tell her as much when my phone vibrated on my leg.

  I looked down.

  John Anchor's name was flashing on the screen.

  SIX

  I picked up the phone and held it to my ear.

  “Mr. Tyler,” John Anchor said. “Are you there? I didn't hear anyone say hello.”

  I swallowed. “I'm here.”

  “Ah, excellent,” he said. “It's great to hear your voice.”

  I turned toward Elizabeth and she was staring at me. I held a finger to my lips and nodded, as if it would be okay. Her eyes stayed locked on me.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked. It was a dumb question, but I wasn't sure what to say to him right at that moment.

  He chuckled. “Somewhat of an ironic question, no? Or maybe irony isn't the right word in this instance. I never seem to use the term correctly.”

  The knot that had formed in my stomach ever since Beltran handed me the photograph turned cold.

  “Because I think you know what you still need to do for me,” he said. “Mr. Beltran indicated that he had a conversation with you.”

  “It'll get done,” I said. “You have my word.”

  “Mr. Tyler, please don't take offense at this, but right now, your word isn't worth very much to me.”

  I swallowed again. “I'm aware of that.”

  “You're aware of that,” he repeated. “Well, that is certainly good to know.”

  “I'll get it done,” I repeated.

  “So you say. And so you've said in the past. But you have a credibility problem. I'd like to believe you, Mr. Tyler. I really would.”

  “You can.”

  “Yes. Perhaps,” he said. “Mr. Beltran made clear the time constraints you're now working under?”

  “He did.”

  “And he made clear that we will need evidence this time that you've actually fulfilled your obligation to us? That your word simply won't cut it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “I just want to make sure everything is out in the open here. I'm disappointed that we've arrived at this point, Mr. Tyler. As I said once before, I was genuinely hoping to avoid any unpleasantness between us.” He paused. “But I suppose we're beyond that now, aren't we?”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “I figured it would be foolish to make any sort of veiled threats this time if you didn't follow through,” he said. “That didn't seem to work the first time around. And I have to admit, it truly shocked me.” He paused. “So I've done what was necessary to force your hand.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror. I didn’t know what I expected to see: Anchor sitting in a car behind me, or maybe Dennison standing there, presenting himself to me so I could fulfill my obligation. Or Lauren, stepping out of her car, late for her lunch date with the representative from a company that did actually send someone to meet her.

  “It was a mistake on my part,” I said. “I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted. But that doesn't change anything, unfortunately.”

  “I'll get it done,” I said again.

  “Yes, you've said that already. Alright.” He paused again. “Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Tyler?”

  He knew I did. He was just looking to drag it out, to make sure I understood what the consequences were.

  “Is Lauren safe?” I asked.

  Elizabeth shifted in the seat next to me. I knew she was trying to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone.

  “We're now at about 71 hours, Mr. Tyler,” Anchor said, ignoring my question. “I don't think we should waste any more time, do you? I'd think you'd want to get moving.”

  My heart hammered against my chest, and I could feel the cold knot melting in my gut. “You didn't answer my question.”

  The line buzzed for a moment.

  “No, I did not,” John Anchor said. “You have 71 hours, Mr. Tyler.”

  The line went dead.

  SEVEN

  Elizabeth was shaking by the time we got home.

  “We don't know for certain that anything's wrong,” I told her as we walked inside.

  “You're not wrong about these things, Dad.”

  I opened the door of the house and quickly swept through it. No lights on, no smells coming from the kitchen, no shoes kicked off by the front door.

  Lauren wasn't home.

  I took a deep breath, but it came out ragged and rough. I was trying to combat the panic with reason and logic. He hadn't overtly confirmed it, but I assumed Anchor had Lauren. He'd said he needed to force my hand and he hadn't flinched when I brought up Lauren's name. I needed to figure out where Dennison was and find him. That was the only thing that was going to bring Lauren back. So I needed to focus on that task, and that task only.

  Find Dennison.

  But I had Elizabeth and I needed to protect her first.

  “I want you to go shower and get cleaned up,” I said to her. “I need to make a couple phone calls.”

  “So, what? Just act like this is a normal night?” she s
aid. Her eyes were wide with fear but there was something else there, too. Anger. “I still don't even know what's going on.”

  “Elizabeth, please, I can't—”

  “Can't what, Dad?” she interrupted. “Tell me what's going on? You think I can't handle it?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Hello? I was kidnapped, remember? Lied to. I’ve run away. Been held against my will. Newsflash, Dad. I can handle it. I'm not gonna break.”

  I swallowed hard. Not just because hearing her mention all of the awful things she’d lived through made my stomach turn, but because she was right. She didn't deserve to be jerked around, to be held at arm’s length and fed platitudes about how everything was going to be just fine.

  I pointed at the kitchen table. “Sit.”

  She eyed me warily for a moment before sitting down.

  I took the seat next to her and set my hand on her knee. “You're right. I'm sorry. This isn't a normal night.” I looked her squarely in the eye. “I'm pretty certain that the man I spoke to on the phone, the same man I owe a favor to, has your mother. Because he's trying to punish me, like I said earlier.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, staring at me.

  “He wanted me to do something to a man who betrayed him,” I told her. “But I couldn't do it. Instead, I drove him to the border and told the guy to disappear so no one ever saw him again. He told me he would. But now he's come back for some reason. I don't know why. And the man I was working for, the man I owed the favor to? He knows.”

  “Who is this guy?” she asked, her voice moving up an octave. “Can't you just call the police?”

  I shook my head. “No, I really can't. It doesn't work like that. And if he does have your mom, then I really can't.” I paused. “Because he will absolutely hurt her. There's no doubt. He's that kind of guy.”