Cold Revenge

by Mary Stone

  “One would think, yeah.”

  After Ellie responded, both of them stared off into space as they struggled to connect the dots. The time-lapse was the weirdest part, as far as Jillian was concerned. Especially if money was the kidnapper’s goal.

  “So maybe the caller is someone looking to hurt Dani’s dad.” But why? Jillian could maybe understand if the man had been a prosecutor or a corporate raider. Who would hold that kind of a grudge against a game show host, though? An idea struck, and Jillian bolted upright in her chair. “Do you know if there were any disgruntled game show contestants? Could someone have gotten pissed about not winning the big prize and decided to get revenge?”

  “I’m looking into that, but so far, nothing.”

  Jillian returned to swirling her coffee and frowned. “I mean, far-fetched as it sounds, isn’t it possible the caller really is his daughter?”

  “I mean, that would be great, wouldn’t it? And you know as well as I do that anything’s possible.” Ellie rose from the table and stretched her back. The frown crept over her face again. “I’ve come to realize that if something in a case seems too easy, there’s usually a reason for it. And in this instance, Dani Snyder being alive feels way too easy.”

  9

  Later that morning, Ellie’s GPS navigated her Ford Explorer northbound up US-26 to Goose Creek. Chase, her security detail for the day, had been less than thrilled when she informed him that she planned on driving her own car by herself, but Ellie had insisted.

  The whole point of funding private security out of her own pocket was to ensure that she called the shots. The rearview mirror confirmed that Chase still shadowed her by a few car lengths in his own SUV and that his expression had yet to lose that “sucked on a lemon” look.

  Ellie wondered if the disgruntled guard would feel better or worse if she told him that the heads-up regarding her plans had been a gift because she’d been “this close” to sneaking out. She wiggled her fingers at the disgruntled guard, then refocused on the road.

  Around twenty minutes later, the robotic GPS voice announced that she had arrived at Charles Snyder’s address. Ellie turned up a long circular driveway constructed from interlocking layers of red brick and concrete. The house was a stately brick affair featuring four elegant white pillars, and based on the sheer size of the structure, Ellie suspected at least double that number of bedrooms.

  “Guess the game show business is doing okay.”

  Ellie scowled as the sound of her own voice accompanied her up the elegant brick path to the oversized double front doors. She didn’t usually talk to herself on her way to interview victims, but something about this case plucked at her already taut nerves.

  Ellie still suspected that Mr. Snyder’s caller was a fake, without coming any closer to answering the pivotal mystery of why now? Puzzles without logical solutions tended to mean Ellie was missing crucial pieces, which wasn’t a feeling she particularly enjoyed.

  When she reached the porch, Ellie grabbed hold of the ornate bronze ring and knocked twice. The door swung open, revealing a petite middle-aged woman wearing creased black slacks paired with a black polo shirt featuring an immaculate white collar. The woman smoothed her perfectly tamed ponytail and offered Ellie a polite smile. “Hello, may I help you?”

  Ellie flashed her badge. “Detective Ellie Kline with the Charleston Police Department. I called ahead to let Mr. Snyder know I was coming.”

  “Detective Kline, yes, he’s been expecting you. I’m Mary, the housekeeper. Please, come in.”

  The woman moved aside, pulling the door open wide. Ellie entered a large foyer with a white and gray marble floor. Two elegant curved staircases swept up to the second floor from opposite sides, but Mary led her between them and down a wide hallway, her short legs covering the ground with such miraculous speed that Ellie almost broke into a trot to keep up.

  Mary paused outside an opening on the left and held out a hand with no-nonsense short nails, gesturing her inside. “Please, make yourself comfortable in the parlor while I fetch Mr. Snyder.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ellie meandered into the elegant room. A beautiful white piano resided in the far corner, its polished wood gleaming in the sunlight streaming in from an enormous picture window. A custom, hand-carved mantelpiece framed a fireplace that appeared large enough to serve as a small-car garage. A trio of plump red and white couches created a cozy sitting area, and the entire room exuded the sweet scent of fresh flowers.

  On the wall near the fireplace hung a color portrait. The teenage girl in the picture looked a couple years shy of sixteen, but Ellie still recognized Dani Snyder’s wide smile and heart-shaped face instantly. She started toward the picture when footsteps echoed behind her.

  Ellie turned as Mary led an attractive middle-aged man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair into the room.

  “Detective Kline, thank you so much for coming.”

  Charles Snyder’s gray slacks and navy button-down were immaculate and an expensive cut, as was his hair. His house and furnishings practically screamed understated wealth, and according to Ellie’s research, the ratings for the game show he hosted had hit an all-time high. Despite all of that, his smile looked sad. Or maybe Ellie was projecting, based on what she knew about his daughter’s case.

  Charles Snyder approached and shook her hand with a firm but kind grip before motioning her to the couch. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?” In real life, his voice was much softer than the booming baritone he was known for, one that had blared from her television speakers on more than one occasion. She found that surprising for some reason.

  Ellie shook her head, perching on the edge of the couch. “No, thank you.”

  Mr. Snyder turned toward the door. “Mary, can you please bring us some muffins, coffee, and juice?” After making his request, Charles Snyder eased himself onto the couch opposite Ellie. “Thank you for driving out here. You said you had some questions for me about the phone call?”

  “Right.” While Ellie collected her thoughts, her gaze wandered back over to the piano. “Do you play?”

  Mr. Snyder stared at the instrument like he was waiting for a song to burst from the polished keys. “No. Dani did. It hasn’t been played since she disappeared. I held on to it this whole time, just in case…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Ellie’s brain completed the ending as if he’d kept right on speaking.

  Just in case Dani comes home.

  Before Ellie’s eyes, the piano changed from a beautiful instrument to a lonely one. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t you start by telling me about Elaine.”

  The older man’s eyebrows shot up. “My ex-wife, Elaine?” When Ellie nodded, he stroked his chin. “There’s not that much to tell. We’ve been divorced for a long time now. She remarried years ago.”

  Ellie jotted down a note on her pad. “Do you know her new address?”

  “Sorry, no. I’ve had no reason to know it, as we haven’t spoken in years. Her new last name is Morris, though, if that helps.”

  Ellie scrawled the name Morris on the page before glancing up. “Does Elaine know about the phone call yet?”

  Mr. Snyder shook his head, averting his gaze. Almost like he was embarrassed. “I didn’t tell her, if that’s what you’re asking. Since I’m not really sure what’s going on and I don’t have her information anyway…” He lifted his hands and lowered them again. “Was that wrong? Should I have told her already?”

  The slight waver to his deep baritone pricked at Ellie’s heart. “No, Mr. Snyder, you did nothing wrong.” She made her own voice soft. Gentle. “There’s no guidebook that comes with this type of situation.”

  Charles Snyder closed his eyes and exhaled, clearly relieved to be excused of blame.

  “I know this might be hard to talk about, but would it be okay to go through Dani’s case again?”

  He nodded. “Sure, we can do that.”

  Elli
e glanced at her notes. “Let’s start off by going over the other kids at the party. I’d especially like to fill in any details we might have missed about Dani’s boyfriend.”

  Five minutes of talking with Charles Snyder failed to reveal any new details, beyond him admitting that the investigation had stretched on for several years before the lead detectives finally shelved Dani’s file in cold cases. Their discussion did manage to fill Ellie with guilt, though. Her heart hurt in the face of the father’s obvious pain.

  “To be completely honest with you, I gave up on finding Dani alive years ago. A parent is never supposed to give up hope, but I did. The not knowing ended up being worse than anything, so in my head, I buried my daughter, put her to rest. Is that terrible?” He folded in on himself, suddenly appearing older and frailer than he had when they’d first met.

  Ellie’s chest ached. Losing a child had to be the worst experience in the world. “Mr. Snyder, the only terrible thing is the person who stole your daughter from you. No one should be judging you for how you grieve, not even you.”

  A throat cleared behind Ellie. “Here we are. Muffins, coffee, and orange juice.”

  Mary wheeled an old-fashioned cart into the room at breakneck speed and parked it between Ellie and her employer. After the housekeeper poured both of them a glass of juice without so much as spilling a drop, she stepped back. “Do you need anything else?”

  “That’ll be all, Mary, thank you.”

  Once the door clicked shut behind the housekeeper, Charles finally met Ellie’s eyes. “Thank you for that kindness earlier.”

  “Of course.” Ellie took a sip of juice before continuing. “Now, can you tell me about that call? Do you remember what the caller said?”

  “Not like I could possibly forget it.” Mr. Snyder eased his glass back onto the tray. “I picked up the phone with my usual greeting. ‘Hello, this is Charles Snyder, may I help you?’ And a strange woman’s voice replied. She said, ‘Daddy? Is that you? It’s me, Dani. I’m alive, and I need to see you.’”

  He ducked his head and shuddered, bracing his palms on his thighs. “Sorry, I think I’m still in shock.”

  “No apologies necessary. Take your time.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Once. Twice. “That was it. She hung up after that.”

  Ellie frowned down at the words she’d written. Not a whole lot to go on. She’d hoped for more. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the call? Her voice, any background noise? Accent?”

  He brightened. “No accent, but she spoke quickly, and she sounded out of breath, like she’d been running or something. Does that help?”

  “Every little detail helps over time.” Not really the truth, but not an all-out lie either. Ellie didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. That she had no idea how the detail he’d provided would help solve Dani’s case. “Anything else?”

  “I tried to call her back right afterward, but no one answered.” Several seconds ticked by. When he spoke again, Ellie strained to hear him. “Do you…do you suppose there’s any chance it might have been my baby?”

  Ellie twined a stray strand of hair around her finger. This part was so tricky. On the one hand, she hated to give victims’ families an inflated sense of hope, especially when the odds rarely favored them. On the other hand, crushing a grieving parent’s hope altogether felt cruel. Experience had taught her that striking a balance between the two extremes required both skill and a delicate touch. But even then, there were no guarantees.

  After a brief deliberation, Ellie settled on a variation of what she’d said to Jillian earlier. “There’s always a chance, Mr. Snyder, even if after this many years out, it’s more likely that someone is playing a prank. Stranger things have happened. Without more to go on, though, it’s really difficult for me to speculate.”

  “I understand, and I appreciate your honesty.”

  Ellie didn’t doubt the older man’s understanding. She imagined he read between the lines all too well, an insightfulness forged by living through hell. To experience all of this—a daughter going missing, followed by the ups and downs of an investigation that dragged on and on but ultimately led nowhere—changed a person. Forever.

  The same way that Ellie’s own kidnapping had forever altered her.

  Fifteen. That was her age when she’d snuck out of the house to meet a boy at the movies. At least that’s where she thought she was going. Her crush had switched up the plan, though. He’d driven them both to a party, and once there, attempted to pressure Ellie into sex. Disgusted, she’d fled the party on foot.

  What a perfect target she must have presented, lost in her own teenage drama as she wandered those deserted, late-night streets alone.

  One stupid mistake that triggered a cascade of events, leading to Ellie’s kidnapping by Kingsley. She lived with that knowledge every day, along with the guilt.

  Ellie’s throat burned. She’d trade her entire inheritance for a chance to alter the past, but this was the real world. Magical wish-granting genies only existed in fairy tales.

  She lifted her chest, forcing herself to draw strength from the words a wise man had once spoken.

  “As a kidnapping victim yourself, you’re one of the few people who truly understands.”

  Chief Marcus Johnson. The police officer on duty who’d rescued her that fateful night, after Ellie escaped the warehouse where Kingsley held her captive and stumbled in front of Johnson’s car.

  More than a decade after her kidnapping, Chief Johnson uttered those words to Ellie when she marched into his office to request an end to her mandated psychologist appointments. He’d also said that her empathy made her a better detective.

  Now, whenever guilt reared its ugly head, Ellie strived to remind herself of that simple truth: that the darkest moments in a person’s life often yielded the greatest strengths.

  Charles Snyder cleared his throat. Heat shot into Ellie’s cheeks when she realized how long she’d gone without speaking.

  Too bad one of her tragedy-inspired strengths didn’t include a cure for daydreaming.

  “Sorry, my brain goes into overdrive sometimes when I’m in the middle of a case. I’ll need the phone number of the caller, so our tech team can try to trace the number.”

  Mr. Snyder recited the number without hesitation. “I memorized it, in case she calls back.”

  Ellie wrote the number down. She hesitated, doodling blue squiggles around her notes while framing her next question. This man had been through so much. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain by pressing too hard. “Did the person on the phone sound like she could be an older version of Dani?”

  Charles Snyder’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I heard her voice in person…” When he looked up at Ellie, his brown eyes glistened. “Honestly, I know this is a long shot. That more likely than not, it’s some sicko playing a trick on me. But I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t follow up.”

  “And that’s why I’m here, Mr. Snyder. To follow up. No one would expect you to do anything else.” Her chest blazed with a familiar sensation. Determination. Ellie would leave no stone unturned to solve this mystery. One way or another. Charles Snyder deserved that much, at least. “Now, let me show you how to record the phone call, in case she calls back.”

  Ellie rose and sat beside him on the couch, spending the next several minutes showing him how to record a call and educating him on how to handle a number of possible scenarios. “So, what do you do if the woman calls back and claims it’s an emergency or says she’s in danger and needs money to escape and get back to you?”

  Mr. Snyder recited the script they’d rehearsed without hesitation. “I tell her to give me the information on where to send the money but say that I invested in a retail property, so I’m a little cash-strapped at the moment and need a day or two to get the funds together. Then I call you.”

  “And if you can’t get ahold of me right away?�
�

  “Then I call Clay Lockwood with the FBI.”

  Satisfied that he had the script down, Ellie nodded. “Perfect.”

  Acting on impulse, she reached down and curled her hand over his, causing his startled gaze to fly to hers. “I want you to know that I’m going to track down every lead I find. I promise that I’ll do everything I can to bring Dani home to you, no matter how this plays out.”

  He layered his free hand on top of hers and squeezed. “Thank you. Closure of any kind at this point would be…thank you.”

  After one last squeeze, he scooted back and stared out the window, which Ellie took as her cue to wrap things up. “I think that’s all for now. Thank you for your time.”

  Charles blinked up at her, almost like he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, right. Thank you for coming.”

  Good manners had him pushing to his feet. Ellie waved him back down. “No, please don’t get up. I can show myself out.” She hustled to the parlor door, pausing to look over her shoulder. “Remember, call me the moment you hear back from the caller. And don’t forget to record.”

  Mr. Snyder nodded once before turning away. Ellie left him alone in the room, gazing at the empty piano as though one day, Dani might appear. Right there on the bench.

  Ellie hurried toward the front door, faster on her way out than even the efficient Mary. She didn’t realize how overwhelming the atmosphere of sorrow was inside the huge, empty house until she burst outside, and the weak winter sun warmed her chilled skin.

  10

  Shortly after the private jet cruised down the long runway and glided to a stop, I collected my suitcase and headed the short distance through the small terminal and out to the sidewalk. I rolled my bag to the designated pick-up spot where Milos waited, his lanky, scarecrow-like frame leaning on the passenger door of a sleek black sedan.

  He straightened when he spotted me. “Mr. del Ray, so nice to see you. How was your trip?”

  “Wonderful, thank you.” I couldn’t begin to describe how delightful it was, strolling among all those people, secure in the knowledge that not a soul would recognize me as Lawrence Kingsley. Not even my own mother.