His eyes widened. “What’s going on?” This couldn’t be happening to him, whatever this was. He was the mayor of Toronto, for crying out loud. Who had the gall to hold the mayor at gunpoint, in his own home?
He stood up. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“You will be a corpse if you don’t cooperate,” she said. “Sit. Back. Down.”
This woman was psychotic. Looks certainly were deceiving. “Where is my son?”
“From my understanding, he’ll be here soon. Until then, let’s get comfortable, shall we?”
-
Chapter 90
DANIEL WAS OUTSIDE THE AIRPORT waiting in his car for Matthew’s plane to touch down. Two cop cars were parked behind him, and the officers inside were ready to escort Ian Bridges to jail.
As for Matthew, he could explain everything to his father. Daniel had kept Matthew’s secrets for long enough. William Connor deserved to know the truth about his son.
To witness the heartbreak in William’s eyes when he had pressed him for information on his whereabouts was almost enough to break his resolve. If it hadn’t been for Sophie’s life being at risk, he probably would have come clean. Surely, Matthew would understand his viewpoint, but even if he didn’t, too bad.
Daniel would be there when Matthew first stepped off the plane to deliver the message personally. He was no longer going to be working between father and son. He no longer wanted to be a dividing force between flesh and blood.
His cell phone rang, and he answered, expecting it to be Matthew. Instead, it was Justin, and he was out of breath.
“Slow down. Say that again,” Daniel said.
“I tracked down the phone that sent the videos of Sophie. But it’s the location of—”
“Okay, breathe.” If the kid didn’t slow down his delivery, he’d hyperventilate before he got to his news.
“He was in contact with a woman named Veronica Vincent. Her phone signal is coming from the Connor mansion. Right now.”
Daniel sat up straighter, bumping his head on the car’s visor. “You must be reading something wrong.”
“I’m not. I’ve double-checked it, triple-checked it. She’s there.”
“Oh shit.” Daniel put the car into drive and gunned it out in front of an SUV.
A blaring horn and a cursing driver greeted him in his rearview mirror, but they’d just have to deal with it. There was a killer in the house, and William and Lauren would be home.
“Justin, send the cops to the Connor residence. Now.”
Daniel tossed his cell phone onto the passenger seat and floored the accelerator. He glanced to his mirror again and noticed the two cop cars were trailing him.
Apparently, this wasn’t Toronto PD’s finest hour.
He fished for his phone again, and as he took a corner, it fell right in his palm. He dialed 911 to have cruisers sent out to the airport. He dropped Ian Bridges’s name and hoped it reached that detective from the news, the one who had freed Sophie.
As for the two cops on his six, he’d lead them straight to Veronica.
-
Chapter 91
TORONTO WAS A WELCOME SIGHT. The feel of the runway under the plane’s wheels whelmed emotion up into Matthew’s throat.
Sophie Jones was just fine, or at least she would be. She may need to see a therapist, and he was more than willing to pay for that as he felt somehow responsible for the entire mess, but she was safe.
Logically, he knew none of it was his fault. He hadn’t abducted her. But if it hadn’t been for Vincent’s personal vendetta against him, it might not have gone so far. Vincent would never forgive him for leaving her in South Africa in a fight for her life, even if she had found it attractive. But it didn’t matter if she forgave him. They’d never be together. There was too big a difference between the two of them: she loved to kill and he didn’t. And that was just one aspect where they differed.
Matthew had picked up on the way Robyn had looked at him after Lewis had been attacked by the anaconda. It was as if she held him responsible for what had happened, but his conscience was clear. If they hadn’t taken down the Bolivians when they had, the rest of them may be buried in Paititi, if they were even given the courtesy of a burial.
The plane came to a smooth stop, and the loading platform was lowered.
Cal rushed to the exit. “Let me off this thing,” he said as he headed out first.
Matthew gathered up Robyn’s things for her and offered to carry her bag. Matthew and Ian had returned home mostly empty-handed, their backpacks still in a cavern back in Bolivia where they had dumped them to dive into the first lagoon. Robin smiled at him, but it seemed forced.
He put his hand on her forearm. “Are you all right? Are you in pain?”
She shook her head, and tears beaded in the corners of her eyes. “When I was shot, you called me ‘baby.’”
His heart palpitated. “You heard that? I thought, maybe, with just being—”
“I heard it.”
“Well, you know how I feel about you, Robyn.”
She angled her head farther back to gaze into his eyes. “And you know how I feel.”
He detected the softness in her tone, the fact that she felt the exact same way, but there was also a sadness, a regret.
“I know it’s not our time right now,” he said.
She shook her head, and with it, speared his heart.
He had to turn the conversation back to what he thought she was going to bring up before he choked on the tears he was too proud to cry. “I know you’re upset about Lewis.” It was silly, really. He didn’t need to explain himself to her. He didn’t know why he felt he had to.
“A little bit, but I understand.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “It was us or them, right? I get it. You didn’t make him go into that lagoon, anyway. It was Juan’s doing.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, and she felt so small beneath his touch, so vulnerable, that he wanted to pull her in and hold her. He wanted to kiss her, to take possession of her mouth, of her being. Instead, he pressed his lips together in a firm line and lowered his head. “God, it’s good to be home.”
She pointed her finger at him and smiled. “You can say that again.”
As they deplaned, Matthew expected police to be waiting at the base of the stairs, but there were none. He had released Ian from his bonds to the table briefly, only to zip-tie his wrists together behind his back.
Matthew followed Ian down the stairs. They’d only made it a few steps when a bloom of red stole his vision.
-
Chapter 92
THEY HAD ONE MAN IN custody, and it wasn’t even the man they had expected to find. Ian Bridges was still out there, and the lug, who went by the name of Don Reed, wasn’t talking. He had demanded a lawyer and clammed up.
Brody pulled the man’s background, and it was extensive. Multiple charges of assault with a deadly weapon and breaking and entering when he was younger. He even did some time back in the nineties, but the judge had gone soft on him.
But whoever seemed to have had his back then had left him out to dry now. His lawyer had yet to come through for him and soon he’d be appointed one by the city, whether he liked it or not.
It wasn’t easy for Brody to sit still or leave the man alone. He wanted to beat the truth out of him. The name Amber Watts didn’t bring up anything in the databases, either—at least nothing in relation to the woman he had talked to. When he had mentioned that name to Don, his eyes had glazed over.
It seemed obvious that Amber Watts was Veronica Vincent.
Brody had typed that name into the system, too, and ran it through the databases. The screen returned with many results. He should have known he’d need more to narrow it down.
“Fuller.” He turned toward the approaching chie
f.
The man’s face was pale. Something had taken a horrible turn.
Brody rose from his chair and met him halfway. “What is it?”
“Nine-one-one just got a call. There’s been a shooting at Pearson International. There’s a confirmed casualty, but the victim’s identity has yet to be confirmed. However, just before that a caller, who identified himself as Daniel Iverson, William Connor’s house manager, said that Ian Bridges was coming in on a private flight along with Connor’s son and some friends. You don’t think they’re connected, do you?”
He didn’t answer his boss’s question. He had already grabbed his coat from his chair and was on the move.
BRODY FLEW THROUGH THE CITY TO THE AIRPORT. The location of the plane and the shooting would be easy to find. That’s the thing with tragic events like this. Not only were they messy but they drew spectators the way gladiators did in Ancient Rome.
He immediately spotted the silver jet and headed straight for it. He flashed his badge at the security gate and they let him in. As he got closer, the casualty was confirmed by the amount of blood that sprayed the side of the plane. A sniper’s shot. How that had even been arranged was almost inconceivable. It meant that the shooter was in the crowd and that they had bypassed security.
A couple ambulances were already on-site, not that paramedics could help the person who was on the other end of the bullet.
Brody jumped out of his department car and looked around for a potential sniper perch. The terminal was crowded and becoming more so by the minute. He motioned for officers to approach him.
“Cordon off this area,” he commanded. “Have the public taken somewhere and get all their information.”
The officers nodded, and he watched them run off to follow his orders. Eventually the crowd receded. There were still enough gawkers to make his skin crawl, but he had learned to manage that aspect of the job years ago. They just had to be put out of mind and his focus allocated to the task at hand.
Brody ran up to a medical examiner, who was leaning over the remains. He held up his badge. “Do we have an ID?”
The examiner looked up slowly. “Ian Bridges.”
He ran his hand through his hair. This all began with Ian Bridges abducting Sophie Jones. Now he was dead. It was the in-between details that needed to be ascertained. But now that he knew the identity of the deceased, any fear over it being Matthew Connor was eradicated.
It was then that he noticed four adults nestled together at the back of an ambulance. He was closer now and able to see. One man was sitting on the back of the ambulance wrapped in a blanket. That man was Matthew Connor.
He scanned the two next to him, recognizing them from their photographs—Cal Myers and Robyn Garcia. The other woman was easy to identify. It was Sophie Jones. He took a step toward them when his phone rang. Caller ID showed Chief Snyder.
“Just after you left another call came in asking for patrol to go out to the Connor estate.”
“The estate?”
“Apparently there is a threat to the mayor’s life. Veronica Vincent. Does that name ring any bells for you?”
“I’ve gotta go.” Brody hung up and beelined it to Matthew. “Matthew Connor, I’m Detective Fuller. You have to come with me. Right now.”
Matthew hopped off the back of the ambulance. His face had streaks of pink on it. He must have been right next to Ian when he was shot.
“What is it?” Robyn asked.
Matthew was looking at Brody. His eyebrows held the same contortion his father’s did when standing his ground on an issue. Brody had witnessed it during various televised press conferences.
“It’s your father.”
MATTHEW WAS FORTUNATE NOT TO be joining Ian in the morgue. Fate had intervened, or it was a lucky stroke of coincidence, but the moment the bullet struck Ian’s head, Matthew’s stride had shifted to the side. Otherwise, it would have traveled through the both of them.
The shock of it all must’ve been making him hear things.
“What about my father?” Fear laced through him all of a sudden. He didn’t care for the flush in the detective’s cheeks.
“Do you know a woman named Veronica Vincent?”
His heart nearly stopped beating. “Y-yes.”
Matthew noticed that Cal squeezed Sophie tighter and rubbed her arm.
“Well, she’s at your house, Matthew.”
“What is she…?” Oh God. He knew exactly. Vincent wasn’t the kind to give up, and she wasn’t past getting her hands dirty, and she had lost her leverage when the cops freed Sophie.
This had become personal. Again.
-
Chapter 93
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU think you know about my son, but—”
“Do you just love the sound of your own voice?” Veronica paced the room. She had faith that she’d be able to escape any charges that may come her way but also knew that she was being reckless coming here. Stupid even, but she had invested too much to relinquish all claim to the City of Gold.
The door to the den swung open, and she spun to see Matthew standing in the doorway. She smiled at him. “How nice of you to join us, Matthew.”
“Son?”
She put the gun back on William. “You stay right where you are. Your son and I, we have some business to take care of.”
“I’m not in business with you, Vincent, and I never have been.”
She laughed. He was obviously putting on a show for his father. It was then that she remembered. “Ah, he doesn’t know, does he?”
“Doesn’t know what?” The older man didn’t look too impressed, and it was more than just being held at gunpoint.
She found his ignorance amusing. No doubt he assumed that he had his household under control. Control—the illusion that so many hungered for.
“Oh, please, let me introduce you,” she said, her voice full of glee.
“No, Veronica, not this way,” Matthew said.
Something softened in her belly when he spoke her first name. It took her back to that night in South Africa.
His eyes met hers. “Let me tell him the truth myself.”
She stepped off to the side. Who was she to come between a father and son bonding moment? It would be their last anyway. She gestured with a jab of the gun for him to go ahead.
THIS HAD TO BE ONE of the toughest moments of his life. To not only see his father held up at gunpoint, but to know he was about to bring such disappointment to him, was breaking Matthew’s heart.
He glanced at Vincent. She was probably finding amusement in the entire scenario. Holding all the cards was a position she relished more than most. Seeing people humiliated and betrayed, she enjoyed even more. But, surely, she had to know time was running out for her.
He looked back to his father, studying the creases in his brow, taking note of the lines around his eyes and his mouth. For the first time, he recognized himself in his father. And in that instant, he experienced a connection most children likely had with their parents from a very young age, but it was one he was never able to let form. When his mom had died, he’d been too busy being angry and blaming his dad for what had happened, for the fact that his father was moving on so soon. But in quick reflection, he realized that was what he’d wanted to believe. He had tainted the truth to protect his heart. If he had a distant relationship with his father, it wouldn’t hurt as much when it was his time to go. But right now, Matthew grasped the fallacy in those beliefs, in his prior convictions. If his father died now without their closing the distance between them, Matthew would be buried in regret without any chance to make amends. Now was the time to come clean. And he would deliver it to his father the way he’d appreciate it most—directly.
“I’m Gideon Barnes.” The truth cut from his throat. Matthew didn’t know exactly what he expected. Maybe for his father to yell at him
, to accuse him of stealing, of violating his trust.
Instead, a tear fell down the man’s cheek. Matthew didn’t remember even seeing his father cry when he’d lost his wife.
Matthew glanced quickly at Vincent, who rolled her eyes and approved that he move to the couch beside his father.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d react. I thought you’d be angry.”
William faced Matthew, meeting his gaze. “You didn’t want to tell me.”
Matthew’s heart fractured at hearing his father’s voice and seeing the pain in his eyes. “I—”
William held up his hands. “I’m not always the easiest to talk to. And I admit I’d prefer for you to be an archaeologist and not a treasure hunter. I mean, haven’t I provided for you enough?” He waved a hand dismissing his own question. “I’m just happy to have you home safe, son.”
His father surprised him then by pulling Matthew into an embrace.
“As much as I hate breaking up this little reunion, I’m going to need to know where to collect Paititi.”
Matthew pulled back from the hug and stood. “I’m not telling you anything.”
She smiled coyly. “You’re forgetting that I have the gun.”
The door to the den burst open. Detective Brody stood in front of a crew of ETF officers.
“And I have an entire army.”
-
Epilogue
THE CITY OF PAITITI IN BOLIVIA
“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE MY son found the lost City of Gold.” William Connor posed with an arm around Matthew, as Cal snapped a picture of them.
Cal had purchased a new camera and was entertaining multiple offers to buy photographs of Paititi. He was having fun negotiating, not that he was very open to fluctuation. He had a price in mind, and he’d accept nothing less. It was the legendary City of Gold, after all. He should be able to name his price. Besides, no one else knew where it was.
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