Kidnapping Claire was methodically planned and thought out. Something important had to push him to come out of hiding and take matters into his own hands. And we know why—Carlos Martinez, his brother.
Once the team was able to lift a few solid prints from my car, his identity fell into place. When the name was mentioned, the administrator knew he was in a fuck-load of trouble. He admitted Clint approached him with an ultimatum and left him no choice but to falsify his internship. Classic case of blackmail and extortion. David Wayne, the now ex-hospital administrator has a heavy cocaine dependency and prostitute fetish. Being a married father of four, with elite community ties, he had everything to lose.
More pieces of the puzzle came together when Detective Flores uncovered a trail to Carlos through encrypted medical records that were meant to be sealed. Money for ransom was never in the cards for Stefano. The expertise he gained in our department and Claire’s undeniable knowledge, skill set, and way with children was the key. We also know the thefts in and around the hospital were carefully thought out and the drug angle was a smokescreen. Stefano had a team of people working to gather supplies to care for his brother.
“Would you like some coffee?” Mom’s hand on my shoulder jolts my attention away from the television and my thoughts.
“No, thanks. I’m good for a while.”
“How about something stronger?” Nick holds up a bottle of bourbon from the bar.
“If I start, I won’t stop. Not a smart idea.”
“I’ll have some.” Shaw comes into the room and hands a sleeping Brinley to Mom.
“Are Grace and Bizzy still here?” Shaw’s face grows hard at my obliviousness to who’s coming and going from my own house.
“They’re asleep in the guest room,” is all he says.
I should have guessed that. Someone is always asleep in the guest room while the others take shifts with me. The feeling of helplessness overwhelms us all, but for me, it’s a fuel to an already blazing firestorm inside. On the rare times I’m not worried about Claire, my mind travels to all the ways I’m going to make Stefano Martinez pay. Killing him has crossed my mind, but bringing him out of seclusion and letting his rivals and enemies go after him is a much better form of satisfaction. He’s loved, feared, and hated amongst his community, and I can only hope the hatred takes its course. Never in my life have I felt as violent as I do with each passing minute. If he’s done anything to hurt her, there’s an understanding with my brothers, he will pay and do it severely.
“Come back to me, son.” Dad appears in my line of sight, his eyes burning into mine. “You have to keep it together. We’re going to find her, and when we do, you can’t be passing each other with you on the way to jail.”
I do my best to loosen up, unclenching my jaw and looking around at my family who’s frozen in place, watching me with a mixture of fear and concern. “Anyone spoke to Mitch or Kelly in the last hour?” I attempt to sound calm.
“Kelly said they’ll be here soon. Carl, Sharon, and Roy are picking them up.”
I nod, knowing the Monroes arrived sometime in the last day offering moral support and help with Brinley. For now, all we can do is sit around and wait.
“Completely changing the subject, I thought I’d have a hard time sleeping under a net last night, but that room fucking rocks. Grace has already decided that, when Claire comes home, they’re decorating one of our guest rooms exactly the same.” Nick gives a small grin, trying to break the tension.
“Nicky, it’s not a net; it’s an organza ceiling mount meant to give off a romantic vibe,” Mom corrects him, and I crack a grin for the first time in days.
“Whatever, I felt like royalty.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before she ever leaves my sight again, so I guess I’ll be shopping.”
My cell rings with an unknown number, and I snap my head to Shaw who is already on the move. I go to my bedroom, knowing the listening system the crime unit set up in the house may have back noise.
“Hello.” My throat is instantly dry and hoarse.
“Are you the boyfriend?” the voice of a young boy asks.
“Of whom?”
“Of Fairy Claire?”
“I’m the fiancé,” I correct him softly.
“That’s why she’s always running her thumb along her ring finger looking sad.”
“Is this Carlos?”
“You know my name?”
“I know everything about you.”
“Figures.” He sounds antsy, and I know I need to keep him on the line longer to try and get a location.