Chapter 5 - The Fight I Was Never Supposed to Hear
I was sixteen the first time I heard my father say Northstar.
It had been after midnight.
Dad had just returned from Europe.
Mom thought Sienna and I were asleep.
They were fighting inside his office.
"You promised me this was over," Dad said.
Mom answered, "I didn't know what it was."
"You knew enough."
"They were investors."
"They were using you."
"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid."
"I'm trying to keep this family alive."
I remembered standing barefoot in the hallway.
My father had suddenly opened the office door.
He saw me.
His anger disappeared instantly.
"Liv?"
I lied.
"I need water."
He walked me back to bed.
The next morning, nobody mentioned the argument.
Until tonight, I'd almost convinced myself I'd imagined the word.
I hadn't.
Mason read the index card again.
"Your father knew."
"At least part of it."
"Why leave this with his attorney?"
"I don't know."
My phone rang.
Sienna.
I answered immediately.
"Where are you?"
Her breathing was ragged.
"Parking garage."
"Why?"
"I needed air."
"Sienna, go back upstairs."
"No."
"Sienna."
"Mom followed me."
I looked at Mason.
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know."
"Go to security."
"Olivia..."
She started crying.
"I found something."
"What?"
"Mom's second phone."
I went still.
"Second phone?"
"It fell out of her purse in the conference room. I grabbed it."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to know if she used my identity."
"Can you unlock it?"
"Her passcode is Dad's birthday."
Of course it was.
"What did you find?"
"Messages."
"From Patricia?"
"I don't know. The contact is just the letter R."
"What do they say?"
Sienna went quiet.
"Sienna."
One sentence came through the phone.
"'Olivia must authorize before Friday. If she refuses, pressure her publicly.'"
My skin turned cold.
The engagement party.
This wasn't spontaneous.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
She inhaled shakily.
"'If necessary, use Sienna.'"
I closed my eyes.
"Get upstairs now."
Then I heard footsteps through her phone.
Sienna stopped breathing.
"Someone's here."
"Sienna?"
A car engine started.
"Sienna, move."
She screamed.
The call dropped.
I ran.
Mason was beside me before I reached the elevator.
Hotel security radioed the garage.
We didn't wait.
The elevator doors opened on P2.
I pulled my compact service pistol from the secured holster under my evening jacket.
Mason did the same.
The garage was silent.
"Sienna!"
No answer.
We moved between parked vehicles.
Then I saw her purse.
On the ground.
Contents scattered across the concrete.
Lipstick.
Wallet.
Keys.
One broken champagne-colored heel.
And her phone.
Still connected.
"Sienna!"
I ran toward the next row.
A black SUV accelerated toward the exit.
Mason raised his weapon but couldn't fire.
Too many vehicles.
No clean shot.
"Security!"
He shouted into his radio.
"Black SUV leaving P2. Lock the gates!"
The barrier ahead began lowering.
The SUV didn't slow.
It smashed through.
Plastic and steel exploded across the ramp.
I sprinted after it, uselessly.
Then another car horn blared behind us.
I turned.
My mother stood twenty yards away beside her Mercedes.
She was staring at the destroyed gate.
Her face had gone white.
"Where's Sienna?" I demanded.
She didn't answer.
I grabbed her shoulders.
"WHERE IS SHE?"
"I don't know!"
"You followed her."
"Yes!"
"Why?"
"Because she took my phone!"
Mason picked up Sienna's purse.
"She's gone."
Mom stared at him.
"What?"
"Someone just took your daughter."
Her knees nearly buckled.
"No."
I shoved the second phone toward her.
"Who's R?"
She refused to look.
"Mom."
Silence.
I moved closer.
"If you know who took her and you don't tell me right now, I swear to God—"
"Richard."
The name came out as a whisper.
"Richard who?"
She started shaking.
"Richard Voss."
Mason froze.
I had never heard the name.
But he had.
"What?"
I asked.
Mason's expression turned grim.
"Richard Voss died two years ago."
My mother slowly shook her head.
"No."
"Linda, Voss was killed in Prague."
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"You don't understand."
She looked at me.
Tears finally filled her eyes.
"Richard Voss isn't dead."
May you like
A beat.
"Your father helped him disappear."
