by Elise Noble
And then it got even worse. We were moving along the passage now, feeling our way in the near-darkness, when Artemis glanced across at my lit phone. She’d lost the make-up and tucked her hair under a borrowed ball cap, but unfortunately, she was still pretty enough to draw attention.
“Oh, no. No way. Not her.”
“What? Who?”
She jabbed at the screen with one manicured nail. “Is that my dad’s new girlfriend?”
I was desperately trying to keep track of all the threads. Sacker had told Brett to stay put exactly where he was and hung up, and Chantelle was back to her conspiracy theories. They should play the girls at their own game, she suggested. Call their bluff and get the police involved—that would teach them not to waste everyone’s time. Or perhaps she, Chantelle, could post a video on social media letting the world know how inconsiderate the girls were being?
“You know her?”
“I think so. She’s a temp in his office, and also a two-faced bitch.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I had to deliver some papers for Daddy one day, and while I was there, she asked to model for one of our Artis videos, and when I said no, she said she totally understood and then bad-mouthed me to some other lady in the bathroom.”
“You overheard her?”
Artemis nodded. “Once you hear her voice, you never get it out of your head.” Tell me about it. I’d need to drill out my ear canals when I got home. “She’ll do anything for publicity. I checked out her Insta, and it’s basically just her posing in skimpy outfits plus doing promos for the brands everyone else turns down.”
The kid in front of me tripped on the stairs, and I shot out a hand to grab his sweater while I watched the unfolding scene in Sacker’s townhouse. It had morphed into a full-on domestic, and if there was one thing worse than Chantelle talking, it was Chantelle yelling. I wanted to rip out my earpiece and stomp on it.
“You were the one who said nobody gets rich by giving money away to other people,” she accused.
“I was talking about competitors, not a fucking kidnapper.”
“And I keep telling you, there is no kidnapper. They’re just acting out.”
“My daughters wouldn’t do that.”
Chantelle snorted. “Like you’d know. You don’t spend any time with them. Trust me, I’m a woman and I know how they think—it’s a trick.”
“Get out.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t think with you screeching at me. Just get out.”
“But I live here.”
“Not anymore.”
Chantelle’s jaw dropped as Sacker yanked open the bedroom door and then pushed her through it. On the surface, that seemed like a good move, but warning bells began ringing in my head. She’ll do anything for publicity. It’s a stunt. I know how women think. Left to her own devices, Chantelle was likely to do something monumentally stupid, and Sacker hadn’t paid the ransom yet.
“Mack, find us a way out of here.”
“Give me two minutes. I’m trying to shut down the power to that giant human body.”
“We don’t have two minutes,” I hissed.
I could already hear voices on the platform. Jeffrey, Kelbyn, and Neil would try to occupy the newcomers, but if they decided to take a look at that electrical cabinet in the rear vestibule…
“Never fear, Bradley’s here.”
What the actual fuck?
“Bradley, what are you doing?”
“Leave it to me.”
“Mack, what’s he doing?”
“I don’t freaking know!”
“Bradley—”
A scream came from outside. A child’s scream, and I saw Ana’s silhouette stiffen in front of me. Shit, was that Tabby? A mother knew, right? A second scream came, a boy’s this time, followed by a third that was one hundred percent Bradley’s, and then the shouting started.
“Snake!”
“Snake!”
“Snake!”
I heard footsteps running across the plaza outside, going away from the sphere, thank goodness. More screams, other people’s this time.
“What snake?” a guy asked.
“A big one,” Josh told him. “Huge. Like the one that ate the guy in Snakes on a Plane.”
“A Burmese python?”
Nice job, kid. There was one of those in the rainforest exhibit, and earlier when I’d looked into its habitat, it had been barely visible behind a moss-covered tree stump. Somebody would have to go over to the giant glasshouse to check whether it had escaped or not, which would give us enough time to get the hell out of the park.
But Carmen still wasn’t happy. “Who let Josh watch that movie? He’s only seven years old.”
Er…
“Can we talk about that later?”
“Emmy!”
“The rangers have moved away,” Mack said. “I’ve shut off the camera.”
“Take your group and go,” I told Carmen. “Go!”
I felt rather than saw her dirty look as she slipped out the door with her four assigned kids. The plan called for me to go third, but I gave Dan a nudge.
“Swap places? I’ve got a horrible feeling the shit’s about to hit the fan in New York, and I need to call Fia.”
“Understood.”
In the accomplice lottery, I’d drawn Artemis, two boys, and another girl. The kids had been prepped well. The older of the boys held Artemis’s hand as we strolled across the plaza, and I caught a flash of turquoise in the distance ahead of us. Bradley was on his way to the car too. Phew. I couldn’t take any more drama today. Dan had Isolde, her three boys would come afterwards on their own, and Ana would wait to buy her team snacks from the kiosk and then they’d bring up the rear. Not a care in the fucking world.
“Fia?”
“What’s up?”
“The blonde’s gonna be leaving the townhouse imminently, and you need to keep her occupied.”
“Uh, wait one second, caller.”
Shit, Chantelle had left already? The screech of chair legs on a wooden floor followed by a door opening and then the slap, slap, slap of feet on paving slabs told me Fia was on her way along the street.
“What’s happening?” Artemis whispered. “Will our dad pay?”
“Shh.”
I needed to hear Fia. Judging by the muted city sounds, she’d put her phone in her pocket while she hunted down Chantelle. Plus I had to stay aware of what was going on around us. The staff were understandably edgy after today’s events, and all it would take was one misplaced glance… A teenager in a ranger’s uniform veered in our direction, and I instructed everyone to head left between a fake cowboy saloon and a virtual-reality bucking-bronco ride. We could go out of our backup exit and circle back to the car.
“Hey!” Chantelle complained in my ear. “You just broke my phone.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Here, let me see.”
“Ow! What the…you…”
Did I mention that Fia carried knockout drugs the way most women carried tampons? You know, for those little emergencies. I heard muffled fumbling for a few moments, and then a man spoke, a stranger.
“Is she okay?”
“Bad break-up,” Fia said, apologetic. “She fell off the wagon again. Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get you home.”
“Y-y-you monshter.”
“Sorry, she really doesn’t like men right now, and you’ve got the same colour hair as her ex, so…”
“I get it, I get it.” The man’s voice faded. “Hope she sobers up soon.”
Chantelle would wake up in an alley somewhere, or maybe on a park bench if she was lucky. Fia would stick around long enough to make sure the whining bitch didn’t get mugged, then she’d vanish back into the city crowds. I owed her one hell of a vacation for that little favour.
“Sacker’s setting up a Monero address,” Mack said. “We did it, guys. I’m gonna pack up and head in your direction. Agatha can keep monitoring progress from hea
dquarters.”
I knew then that things would be okay. Our cobbled-together team had beaten the odds and won. Kayleigh Monteith was going to get the treatment she needed, and there was one more unexpected bonus—I very much doubted Chantelle would become stepmom number six. But if Bradley thought I was ever going to another “amusement” park, he had another think coming.
Next time, I’d stay at home and learn to crochet instead.
CHAPTER 12
YOU REMEMBER I said I knew things would be okay? Well, I might have been a teensy bit premature with that assumption. When I got back to the vehicles with Artemis, Bradley was unlocking the doors of Black’s Porsche, because of course he’d got himself a spare key from somewhere.
On any other day, I’d have congratulated him on his efforts with the non-snake, reminded him to be damn careful if he drove Black’s car anywhere—he’d knocked a wing mirror off Black’s last SUV because he decided to check his hair in the mirror while backing it out of the garage—and settled Artemis into the car. But all those thoughts quickly became redundant when I saw Josh and Tabby. Fuuuuuck. I scrabbled for my phone.
“Dan, new plan. I’m going to drive Bradley and the littlies far, far away while you tell Carmen and Ana there was an emergency.”
“What emergency? I had to circle around the runaway mine train and they got ahead of me. They’ll hit the parking lot any second.”
The prickling hairs on the back of my neck told me she was right.
“Too late,” I whispered as Ana glided to a halt next to me.
“Why does my daughter look like a baby hooker?”
Carmen was right behind her. “And why does my son look like a drag queen?”
The more pertinent question: why in the name of fuck hadn’t Mack warned me? With advance notice, I could have prevented a murder. Tabby was wearing pink vinyl hot pants and a vest top, both decorated with tattered chiffon. Personally, I thought she looked more like a belly dancer than a hooker, but potayto, potahto. Josh was channelling a Disney Princess crossed with Betty Rubble in a dinosaur-skin dress. Both kids had false eyelashes, glittery hair, and what seemed to be an entire cosmetic range trowelled onto their faces.
“You told me to keep them occupied,” Bradley said to Ana, hands on his hips. “Like, you literally said I should use my imagination and stop them from getting bored until the wheel started working again.”
“I meant draw a picture or something, not this.” She took a step forward, and Bradley took a step back, right onto my foot. “Where the hell did those shorts come from?”
“The gift store. They started off as a tote bag, but I had a pair of scissors and a sewing kit in my purse.”
Bradley’s purse was a fucking Tardis.
“Where are Josh’s pants?” Carmen asked.
“I upcycled them into his belt and Tabby’s vest.”
So Josh was stuck in the dress until he got home? I quickly turned my laugh into a cough and hoped Nate would see the funny side when that glitter dropped all over the carpet.
“Guys, we need to go. Bradley, you can ride with Dan, okay?”
“But I don’t want to die.”
“I hate to break this to you, but you’re going to die whichever car you go in. Carmen, you’ll need to take Tabby because if those sparkles get on Artemis and Isolde, the cops are going to ask questions about where they’ve been.” Plus Black definitely wouldn’t see the funny side if his car ended up all sparkly. “Let’s go.”
Ana pointed at the baby seat just as Mack staggered up with her electronic shit and Bradley’s shopping.
“Okay, fine. Let’s move that abomination into Carmen’s car, and then we can go.”
I’d think of some other punishment for Black.
Sacker paid the million-and-a-half bucks with two minutes to spare. Once Mack had confirmed receipt and moved the money out of reach, we said our goodbyes to Artemis and Isolde. They weren’t bad kids underneath all the warpaint. Turned out it was their father’s fault that they’d started their make-up empire. The succession of stepmothers he’d brought into their lives specialised in the superficial, and although the women had shirked their responsibilities when it came to emotional support, they had taught the sisters every tip and trick on how to make themselves look pretty. Now the girls were sharing that knowledge with the world and making money out of it. Stepmom number five, Carissa, had been relatively supportive when it came to setting up Artis—apparently she’d finished her MBA before she worked out that getting a sugar daddy was more lucrative than getting a job. Artemis admitted that she actually quite liked Carissa, but what was the point in getting close to a stepmom when they’d be gone in a year or two? My heart hurt for both daughters. Two princesses trapped in an ivory tower.
We dropped them half a mile from a gas station, out of sight of any cameras or passing vehicles. Artemis would wait five minutes and then call Brett, who in turn would call Sacker with the good news of their release.
Both girls hugged me, and Ana too although not quite so tightly.
“Don’t be a stranger,” I murmured to Artemis.
“I won’t. Does it sound crazy to say this turned out to be a good day?”
“Yes, but we’re all crazy here, so you fit in quite well.”
Isolde gave me a shy smile. “Do you think Trick might want to go on a date with me someday?”
“Ask him. You’ll like the answer. But leave it a few weeks first, yeah?”
She nodded, and her smile turned into a grin. “See you soon.”
EPILOGUE
THE POLICE INVESTIGATION went nowhere. What did go somewhere? The chat group the “hostages” formed following their “ordeal.” In the sphere, they’d said they wanted to stay in touch, so Mack set up the app for them and Dan organised the invitations, although Artemis and Isolde didn’t receive theirs until after the case had gone cold.
Three months on, and I was oddly proud of everything we’d achieved on that day. Those teenagers came from different backgrounds, different social classes, even different countries, yet they were constantly building each other up. Anonymity had fallen by the wayside, and Dan was a member of the group too, just to keep an eye on things. Every day the kids helped each other with everything from homework to fashion advice to relationship woes, if going out for burgers counted as a relationship. Dan gave me regular updates, usually while we were waiting for our morning caffeine to kick in.
But the best part? Kayleigh Monteith’s cancer was in partial remission. The Cytoblin had worked its very expensive magic and kicked the cancer cells’ ass. Would it last? The doctors couldn’t say, but they were hopeful.
Bradley’s not-so-dulcet tones sounded from the hallway, then the front door slammed, and more voices headed in my direction—Dan, Trick, Vine, Race, Brett, Artemis, and Isolde. They’d all be staying at Riverley this weekend since the home Dan shared with Ethan only had two spare bedrooms. Black and I would decamp next door to Little Riverley because while I didn’t mind kids quite as much as I used to—as long as they came in small doses—I still valued my sleep. The group obviously couldn’t tell the truth about how they’d crossed paths, so they’d all arranged to be at the same pop concert a month after the SciPark incident, and that was where they’d officially met. I’d had to speak to David Sacker to set up today’s trip, and he’d called me by my actual name this time. Progress.
“Wait a second.” I grabbed Dan as she walked past me and flicked a piece of glitter out of her hair. “Okay, you’re good to go.”
“That damn stuff. I’ve had the car detailed nine times, and it’s still lurking in the cracks. I even had the floor mats changed.”
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re due a prang anytime now, so you’ll have a great excuse to replace the whole vehicle.”
“Never before have I hoped to hear the sound of crunching metal.”
Carmen had also suffered from the abundance of glitter, but after Nate borrowed her G-Wagen and turned up for a management meeting look
ing like Tinker Bell, he drove straight to the dealership and traded it in for a new one. Bradley was banned from going anywhere near it.
Speaking of Bradley, he’d given up on the rainforest idea. That should have been good news except he’d been up late watching National Geographic and now he had his heart set on meerkats, together with a desert vista for them to live in. Oh, and he wanted a full-sized Ferris wheel too. I’d been forced to ship him off to Milan in the hope that the boutiques would distract him for long enough to forget those ideas, and boy was my credit card taking a hammering. But the pain was worth it. Meerkats might have been cute to look at, but I’d done a little research and come to the conclusion that they were much better off living in Botswana than in my backyard. All I truly wanted was a hammock plus a gin and tonic.
“How’s it going?” I asked Artemis once the others had said their hellos and disappeared off to the swimming pool. She’d always been the most reserved of the group, but today, she seemed different. More relaxed, not quite so robotic. I hadn’t seen her in person since that day at SciPark, but sometimes I watched her YouTube videos. Still fucked up my eyeliner every time, though.
“Good. Like, really good.”
“Dan said your dad is easier to live with now?”
“The kidnapping totally unnerved him.”
“I bet.”
“Last week, he said it was an expensive lesson, but one he needed to be taught. That he’d had his priorities wrong his whole life. His dad taught him that success was measured by appearance, by shows of wealth and the number of zeroes on his bank balance, and he’d been so busy focusing on earning more, more, more that he’d forgotten to take care of the things that were important.”
“So he’s changed?”
“Sort of. I mean, he’s trying. Like, he stays home at least two evenings a week plus one weekend day now. We even eat dinner together. Plus he wants us to go on vacation, the whole family, and Carissa’s freaking out because she signed up to be a trophy wife and now she has to spend two weeks in the Caribbean talking to a man she barely knows.”
“But she’s talking to you.”