by Ruby Vincent
Carter raised his hand, holding up a photograph. “Belle keeps this safe in her sewing kit. It kills her to look at her mom and remember their history. It hurts even worse to see the reason for Malcolm’s obsession.”
Hanson, Ortiz, Rosalie and I moved in, squinting at the photo on his palm.
“Holy shit.” Picking it up, I traced the beautiful smiling woman holding a chubby blonde baby on her lap. “She looks exactly like her. Belle could be her twin.” Horrible realization twisted my stomach. “He wants her because she looks like her mother? His own fucking stepdaughter?”
Expression grim, Carter shook his head. “He wants her because he thinks she is her mother. During the custody battle, he kept slipping up and calling her the wrong name. Arabella,” he said.
“Arabella Fletcher was Belle’s mother’s name. The same name Malcolm calls her every time he’s taunted, harassed, and swore to her he’d find her and bring her back, so now do you understand?” he flung, suddenly speaking to the detectives. “Belle is trapped with a violent, abusive mobster who thinks she’s his wife. The wife he murdered when she tried to leave him. We have to find her now!”
The detectives looked at him and then each other. They were on their phones in a blink.
“Get everyone on the streets. Our man is Malcolm Byrne, suspected of assault, murder, and the kidnapping of Belle Adler,” Hanson ordered. “Check the airport, private hangers, and docks. Get in contact with Miss Adler’s parents. I want a complete description of this guy posted all over town within the hour...”
I drew Carter to the side, still holding the picture of our girl. “We can’t just sit here,” I said. “I don’t trust those two to find their asses with a flashlight.”
“Agreed. Fuck!” he burst out. “We had plan. We were going to take this guy down for good. How did this happen, man? How did he know she was here?”
My jaw clenched. Every inch of me was tight with frustration. Too long without her and I’d claw out of my skin. “I don’t know. It’s not just that he’s rich because shit knows we can’t pull the Houdini crap he does for all the money in the world. He’s smart and he knows who to get to. We have to think like him if we’re going to find her.”
“Where do we start? Asking around town?”
“Absolutely. We’re having a chat with security too,” I said. “I doubt Byrne got lucky and happened to pick the shadiest piece of garbage on the first try. We’ll find out if he approached the others.”
“Right. Yeah.” Carter raked his hands through his hair, wobbling on his feet for a second. “If that guy does anything to her—”
“Don’t. We will find her safe. We have to.” I clapped his shoulder. “First, let’s get Preston out of that damn hospital bed. Belle’s waiting for us.”
BELLE
“Stop! Let me go!”
Malcolm, or Mal as he preferred to be called, locked my wrist in an iron grip as he cut my restraints and dragged me out of the car. It’s amazing that people didn’t see this man for what he was the instant he opened his mouth. What kind of person relished being called a name that meant bad? Abnormal.
Evil.
“What do you think?”
Mal swept his hand over the ramshackle teardown before us. The beach house had seen better days. The wood holding the place together was distressed and splintered. Blue paint covered most of it, but it looked like in some places they chose not to bother. Looking past, my eyes traveled down the beach to the rickety dock. Tied to it was a large, white boat easily worth three times the house.
“I think it looks like a shit heap,” I said.
Laughing, Mal tightened his grip as my heels dug deep grooves in the sand.
“What have I always told you? You can’t look at things for what they are, but for what they can be. This is our safe haven until we can get home.”
I seized on a flutter of hope. “You have always told me that. Me, Daddy. Belle.” I yanked on my wrist, whirling him around. “I’m not Mom. She died.”
Mal crumpled into a frown, jaw ticcing.
“It’s me, Belle,” I said for what must have been the thousandth time. “I’m your stepdaughter. Don’t you remember? You sang Irish nursery songs to put me to sleep and told me about the stars? Please, Dad. Remember!”
“Shut up! That’s enough, Arabella.” He stalked off, dragging me with him.
Hope doused in cold reality. I pleaded into those eyes for a spark of recognition too many times to count. None appeared.
Malcolm Byrne’s mind was mangled over the murder of his obsession. Sending Arabella Fletcher out of his reach forever. It coped by convincing him she wasn’t gone at all. She was me. The young girl with her blood and her face.
The help he needed, he should have gotten long ago. Now it was too late.
For both of us.
Mal shoved open the door and threw me inside. I tripped over the rug, falling on the dining table. I heard the rapid succession of locks clicking behind me.
Pushing myself up, I swept the space. It was nothing like I expected.
The meager outsides did not match the clean, swept floors. The nice brown leather couch matched the table I was leaning on. A modest, but new television hung on the opposite wall, and next to the stainless-steel refrigerator was a back door covered with new locks and deadbolts.
I knew where we were. Citrine Cove was a small island, and my friends and I had explored every inch of it. We were on the opposite end near the grove and golf course. Down a side road that took us to the bottom of the cliff and passed no other houses but this one.
No one had reason to come out here. But Mal had, and by the work done to fix up and secure this place, he’d been here for a while.
I flew across the room, diving for the window. Malcolm just watched me as I strained against the frame.
“Don’t bother, Arabella. I’ve ensured you and I will have peace and privacy.”
“How long have you been here?” I demanded. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been here for weeks, preparing to take you home.” Mal moved behind me. “I’m afraid your community is not as insular as you believe. Months ago, those people drove you hours out of town to a party at Du Pont-Desai Manor. I didn’t think anything of it for a long time. Eventually, as I went back and retraced your movements in the days before you disappeared, I realized that was the only thing out of place.
“I looked into that family. Discovered the tradition they started almost a hundred years ago, and got close enough to someone in the community that they admitted another event was being held this summer and where. I didn’t want to believe it, Arabella.”
I tensed.
“That my own wife would come here. Be a part of this— this— I don’t know what the fuck this is!” I sensed him coming closer. “I refused to accept it. It wasn’t possible that you’d be here, so I called the family back home. Had them check if you went abroad. When they turned up nothing, I came here praying that you wouldn’t be.”
Praying? And what do you ask God for Malcolm Byrne?
“I searched and found you... with them.”
I knew it was coming.
Mal spun me around, hand raised. I blocked the slap with my forearm. The force knocked me off balance, but I recovered quickly and threw a jab at his stomach. He doubled over, grunting, and I made a run for it.
Flying at the door, I scrabbled desperately at the locks. Rapid footfalls behind me and then he grabbed me.
Smack!
Pain exploded in my face. My neck snapped to the side, hitting my forehead against a deadbolt. I screamed as he hoisted me over his shoulder.
“Let me go! Let me go, you sick, murdering beast!” I kicked and flailed, pummeling his back. “You ruined my life! Murdered my mother!” Wrenching my body, I grabbed a handful of his hair and ripped.
Mal howled. Holding my legs, he twisted and slammed me against the wall.
I collapsed in a heap on the floor. His figure spun as it towered over me.
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“My patience is running thin, Arabella. As is my forgiveness. You cheated on me, and that’ll be dealt with, but I’m willing to take you back.”
“Don’t!” I sobbed. Agony wracked me from head to toe. “I don’t w-want you. Leave me here.”
He tangled in my hair, lifting my head. “So you can go back to them. All three of them, you disgusting slut. You’re lucky I didn’t kill them too, but there’s still time to change my mind. Our ride arrives in three days. That’s one for every day you misbehave.”
A lead weight sunk in my gut. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying money talks even on this godforsaken trash barge in the middle of the ocean. I have friends standing by to dispatch your little boyfriends for every day you cause me trouble. And if you run”—his voice dropped to a dangerous hiss—“they’ll have matching bullets in their skulls before you make it up the cliff. Am I understood?”
I swallowed hard. Tears beat on my eyes, but I held them back. Crying would not move him. Pleas wouldn’t sway him. I couldn’t appeal to the humanity of a monster. I had no choice.
“I understand,” I rasped. “I won’t run. I’ll be good.”
“Good.”
Mal’s mouth crashed on mine. My resolve not to cry broke as he forced his tongue past my lips.
“Very good,” he said, high on triumph. “There are some more things I have to take care of, so I’m going out. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
I prayed that was the end of it.
Mal picked me up again and carried me into the lone bedroom. Efforts were made to transform this space as well. A television sat atop a gleaming white credenza. Blue cotton sheets covered the single queen bed. And the restraints over the bedpost were obviously a new addition.
Mal set me on the bed and chained my hands over my head. I didn’t fight him.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t do anything at all.
He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be back by lunch, and you’ll be here. With me. Where you belong.”
The door shut with a soft click that reverberated inside of me.
It was over.
Mal had finally won.
PRESTON
“We’re doing everything we can, Mr. and Mrs. Adler,” Ortiz said. “We’re a small island. Our force is made up of two detectives, four officers, and our captain. This is our first priority.”
“Can we request more officers come in from the mainland?” Mrs. Lewis-Adler’s red and puffy eyes came from hours of crying. “What about the FBI? Have you contacted them? Malcolm Byrne is a known mobster and murderer.”
“We’ve done both of those things.”
Twenty hours since I was released from the hospital.
Twenty-two hours since they told me Belle was taken.
Twenty-four hours since he got away with her.
Eighteen hours since Belle’s parents flew in.
Ten minutes since the detectives showed up at our door and asked us into the living room. That would make it twenty-two hours, ten minutes, and thirty-seconds I’d been waiting for someone to tell me she was okay.
Still counting.
Ortiz laid a soothing hand on Cecilia’s arm. “Mr. Knight has made the situation clear. We sent officers to the airports and docks, and that’s why we’re here. I preface this by saying we haven’t confirmed that this is the man we’re looking for.”
Nathan, Carter, and I sat up straighter.
“One of the airport employees reports a man fitting Malcolm Byrne’s description coming in a few days ago. Apparently, Mr. Prince was correct about him having a memorable face. She says he asked him if he could charter a private plane out of the main airport, and she told him no and that he had to go to Jansen Airfield.”
I bolted off the seat, causing a spike of pain through my head that I ignored. “Private plane? You mean he’s already gone?!”
Ortiz put up his hands. “We have no evidence of that. Hanson interviewed the staff this morning and they say no planes have taken off from there in the last week. Neither has a man fitting his description been to the airfield. They refuse to hand over their security tapes, so we’re in the process of serving a subpoena. We will find her, Mrs. Adler.”
He reached for her again. Cecilia stepped out of reach.
“Call us the minute you have news,” she said. “We’re going back out to look for her.”
“Ma’am, the best thing you can do is remain here. While Byrne is our most likely suspect, we haven’t ruled out other possibilities. If she was taken by kidnappers, the ransom call would come here.”
“She was not taken by random kidnappers,” Tobias snapped. “There were two people on that porch, and I can assure you, even a criminal who is only mildly proficient at Google would know the Du Pont-Desai heir would fetch a higher price than the Adler’s.”
I winced.
“He took Belle for a reason and we know what that reason is,” he said. “We can’t just sit here. Belle needs us.”
“You’re not sitting here,” Ortiz said. “You’re allowing people with the means and experience to bring your daughter home safely.”
“All seven of you,” Nathan bit out.
“More are coming. They fly in tomorrow morning. The only people allowed on or off this island. Trust us,” he said. “Belle will be okay.”
Cecilia sniffed. “Your placations would go down easier if they weren’t said to a family that has had to bury a loved one who died at his hands. We weren’t there for Arabella when she needed us. We certainly won’t fail the beautiful little girl she gifted us, in the same way. Excuse us.”
Belle’s parents marched out.
I saw why Belle had so much respect for her mom. She had this inner determination that made her the strongest person in the room, even as tears cut tracks through her makeup.
I could use some of that.
“Detective,” I spoke up. “What about the guard who attacked us? Ruben Fuller. He’s worked for my family for five years. Do you know why he did this?”
Ortiz nodded. “I’m sorry to say it was plain and simply money. His bank account received a healthy injection of cash a week ago.”
I sank in my seat, rubbing my aching head. Belle warned me about this and I didn’t listen. What was loyalty, reputation, or trust in the face of retiring on a private island?
“I’m glad he shot that fucker,” I hissed. “Saved me doing it myself.”
“Excuse me?” Ortiz asked.
“I said was there anything on this cell phone,” I said in a louder voice. “Did they talk about his plans?”
“No, nothing. The cell phone was clean. Not so much as a suspicious outgoing number he called too many times,” he said. “Your mother housed the security team at the Citrine Inn. We tore apart his room last night and turned up nothing as well.”
“The island isn’t that big,” Carter said. “Everyone knows everyone around here. How hard can he be to find?”
“If he is on the island,” he said. “If he caught that plane or took a boat out, it’s a different story.”
Nathan lurched to his feet. “If he did that, it’s because you gave him all the time he needed to get away.”
Ortiz gave us a hard look. “I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. But I’m not the enemy, Mr. Prince. Everyone in this room wants the same thing—for Belle to come home safe and sound.”
Nathan opened his mouth.
I put a hand across his chest, silently shaking my head.
“I have to go,” Ortiz said. “We’ll keep the Adlers informed. I’m sure they’ll pass the information to you.”
“No,” I said slowly. “They won’t have to because while Hanson is on the phone with them, you’ll be dialing me. You’ll let us know everything that is happening before it happens. Got it?”
He stiffened. “Of course, Mr. Desai.”
Ortiz left without another word.
“Why did you hold me back?” Nathan asked as his footst
eps faded.
“Fuck him,” I said. “We’re not getting anywhere arguing with that guy. He’s better off getting subpoenas and talking to baggage handlers. The three of us are going to Citrine Inn.”
“To question the security team,” Carter stated.
“That too,” I said. “I won’t believe Fuller’s room is clean until we check it ourselves.”
“What the hell are we waiting for?” Nathan took off. “Let’s go.”
We were right behind him.
I couldn’t think about how much had changed in the last day. One moment I was sitting with Belle, dreaming up our future, and the next I was unconscious on the floor, Belle was gone, and a man was murdered ten feet from our door.
The Adlers weren’t the only ones to fly into the cove. My dad flew in two minutes after them, and then a storm of parents tried to follow. My parents were in hell, and it didn’t help that they were fielding calls by folks demanding to know what happened, if their kids were safe, and why were the police holding us?
The thirty-first marriage event at Citrine Cove was over.
The three of us walked out the gate and set down the path to the Inn.
Citrine Inn was a ten-minute walk down the lane once we reached the main road. Ever the thoughtful employer, my mother set up her staff in one of the best hotels on the island, walking distance from their work, and one of these shits repay her by attacking her son and delivering his girlfriend to a delusional mobster.
My hands were fists the entire walk down. I had felt a cold fury like this only one other time in my life. I couldn’t say how this would end, but I swore on every kiss, laugh, and stolen moment I shared with Belle, that mercy would not hold me back this time.
The door banged against the wall, startling the gangly man behind the desk.
“Ruben Fuller’s room number,” I said by way of greeting. “What is it?”