Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF A SECRET
Detective Hale was back at my house within twenty minutes.
He took one look at the picture and said, “Nobody sends money.”
Amber stared at him.
“That’s my husband.”
“I know.”
“They could kill him.”
“I know.”
“Then do something!”
“We are.”
It did not feel like enough.
Nothing felt like enough.
The photograph included a message.
$100,000. 8 A.M. NO COPS.
Hale photographed my phone, forwarded the image to a forensic team, then asked if Ethan had ever talked about illegal lenders.
“No,” Amber said.
“Sportsbook?”
“No.”
“Poker games?”
“I knew he bet sometimes.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She looked embarrassed.
“Football. Basketball. Nothing crazy. Twenty bucks. Fifty bucks.”
Mara said quietly, “It rarely starts crazy.”
Amber wiped her eyes.
“He told me he stopped.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
Mara nodded.
“The first major withdrawal from Patricia’s account happened eleven months ago.”
Amber went pale.
I sat down.
“Eleven months.”
Mara looked at me.
“Yes.”
I thought back.
Eleven months earlier, Ethan had brought me flowers for no reason.
He fixed my garbage disposal.
He took me to lunch.
I had joked to Nicole that maybe turning forty had finally made her brother thoughtful.
Now I wondered whether he had been studying me.
Watching passwords.
Finding documents.
Getting access.
“What happened eleven months ago?” Hale asked Amber.
She looked at the floor.
“His business failed.”
“What business?”
“He had a commercial cleaning company.”
“I thought it was doing well,” I said.
“So did I.”
Amber laughed bitterly.
“He kept telling everyone it was growing. He was borrowing money to make payroll.”
“How much debt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Estimate.”
She hesitated.
“Maybe one hundred and fifty thousand.”
Mara shook her head.
“The records suggest more.”
Amber looked at her.
“How much?”
“We found personal guarantees totaling almost three hundred thousand.”
“Oh my God.”
Hale leaned forward.
“Mrs. Reynolds, gambling may not have started this.”
“What do you mean?”
“He may have been using borrowed money to keep the business alive, then started gambling to recover losses.”
I closed my eyes.
One big win.
I needed one big win.
That sentence again.
Hale continued.
“Once he lost more, he borrowed from illegal lenders.”
“And then stole from me.”
“Yes.”
“And when he couldn’t replace it, he planned to make me look like the gambler.”
Nobody answered.
Because that was exactly what he had done.
At seven fifteen in the morning, the kidnappers sent another message.
LOCATION IN 30 MINUTES.
Hale was ready.
He had officers stationed nearby.
The plan was simple.
I would follow instructions.
The police would follow me.
I hated every second of it.
At seven forty-five, a pin arrived.
An abandoned storage facility twelve miles away.
I drove there with an empty duffel bag.
My hands shook on the steering wheel.
Hale’s voice came through a small earpiece.
“Keep driving.”
“I’m driving.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
I turned into the storage lot.
It was almost empty.
Rows of metal doors.
Gray sky.
No people.
I parked where the message told me.
Then I waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
My phone buzzed.
UNIT 214.
I stepped out.
The duffel bag felt strangely heavy even though there was nothing inside.
Unit 214 was halfway down the second row.
The door was cracked open.
I stopped ten feet away.
“Ethan?”
Nothing.
Hale’s voice whispered in my ear.
“Do not enter yet.”
Then I heard a groan.
“Mom?”
My body moved before my brain did.
I lifted the door.
Ethan sat on the floor.
His hands were zip-tied.
His face was bruised.
Blood had dried under his nose.
“Ethan!”
I rushed toward him.
Then a man stepped out from behind the door.
Baseball bat.
Black hoodie.
Thirty, maybe thirty-five.
He grabbed my arm.
“Where’s the money?”
Police came from everywhere.
“DROP THE BAT!”
The man shoved me.
I hit the floor.
Ethan screamed.
The bat clanged against concrete.
Three officers tackled the man.
Another grabbed Ethan.
Hale pulled me up.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
Then he looked toward the back of the unit.
His face changed.
“Ruiz.”
She walked over.
There were boxes.
Dozens of them.
Documents.
Credit cards.
Laptops.
Stacks of fake IDs.
And on a folding table were copies of bank statements.
Not just mine.
Other people’s.
Hale picked up one folder.
“Looks like your son wasn’t their only customer.”
Ethan stared at the floor.
I looked at him.
“You knew about this place?”
He didn’t answer.
Hale turned sharply.
“Ethan?”
Ethan finally raised his head.
And said something I did not expect.
“They didn’t kidnap me.”
The entire unit went silent.
I stared at him.
“What?”
May you like
He looked straight at me.
“I paid them to scare you.”
