I had told him about the pregnancy yesterday since I had a doctor’s appointment on Monday.
With the lid back on the box, Trent had no idea. Before we’d come to a complete stop, I jumped out of the car, hearing a string of curses from everyone. This was against protocol, but I didn’t care. Technically, opening an unknown box was, too, but I hadn’t thought about that since it was normal to receive gifts. I leaned against the brick and lost everything in the alley of the busy city. The smell of the garbage bin intensified my sickness.
This was terrible.
Dry heaves wracked my body as the image replayed over in my head. Trent was beside me in an instant. “What’s wrong, Willow?”
I managed to say, “Look in the box.”
More dry heaves.
“Get me the box,” Trent demanded.
People moved around me as I vomited more. I took deep breaths—in through the nose and out through the mouth. The box appeared, and I glanced at Trent. Alarm rang in his eyes, and he said, “Oh fuck!”
“Andre, take this.”
“Yes, sir.”
Everyone was on high alert as I leaned my forehead against my arms on the brick. A soft touch patted my back. Trent’s soothing voice was tinged with worry. “Willow, we need to get back in the car and get out of here.”
Without a word, I walked over to the SUV with Trent guiding me. Trent gave further instructions. “Andre, take us back to the house.”
This was so bad—worse than I imagined.
“Yes, sir.”
I looked up at the vehicle’s ceiling, trying to keep the bile down. The decaying finger smell still lingered in my nose. “That was Alex’s ring, Trent. And the note…”
The picture of the note flashed through my mind.
“We’re supposed to check every delivery. I’m seeing what happened, Willow.”
Not much remained of the finger. I gagged thinking about it. The missing finger hadn’t been a trophy, but a gift… to me. I gagged again. Trent grabbed my hand. “We’re going to figure out what the hell is going on.”
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Trent shuffled to get to his phone. “Yes. Find him. I understand.”
Find him? That doesn’t sound good.
This terrible day kept getting worse by the minute. The hate within me for Alex continued to grow. What had he been thinking? With this threat, the situation escalated to a whole other level compared to simply wanting money. All I wanted was to go back to a simpler life. If only I had never crossed that street where we first met.
I was pregnant.
What if someone got to me?
The baby was the most important thing in my life. How in the world had Alex done these things having a child of his own? The games he played were dangerous… in fact, they seemed deadly. I touched my stomach. I will protect you, little one.
Trent mentioned the finger, and I forced the thought away. The last thing I wanted was to be sick again.
After hanging up, Trent informed me of his conversation. “That was Paul. He’s working on locating Commander Taylor. Within fifteen minutes of the call he made to you, we identified that he was not at the precinct or his house.”
An involuntary shudder went through my body, remembering the decaying encrusted finger. The thought of being taken terrified me. I swallowed again, refusing to vomit anymore.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. I swear it. I have good men on my team. Dedicated men.”
Never again was I opening unknown boxes. Never. Again.
I wasn’t able to form any coherent sentences that added anything. All I kept thinking about was someone figuring out a way to get through the protocol. Tack had and now this person. How had they? The knowledge concerned me.
There was a minibar off to one side in the back of the SUV. Trent handed me a ginger ale. “Drink some of this for your stomach. It’ll help.”
Tentatively, I took a sip. The ginger ale burned a little but helped soothe the turmoil.
Whoever’d had the package delivered knew my schedule. I pulled up my phone and scanned the article about the show. It mentioned nothing about me going there today to review the paintings.
Besides security, Carson, Tack, and Eva… who else knew where I would be? “What are you thinking about?”
Finally, words returned to me. “Who else knew I was going to be at the gallery today. It’s been the only place halfway accessible since the house is like Fort Knox. Every delivery is monitored. There are cameras and motion sensors everywhere. You have people patrolling the perimeter. It doesn’t make sense.”
Trent took out his phone. He pushed a few buttons and then my voice played over the phone. It was from my conversation with Commander Taylor.
“Ms. Russo?”
“Sorry, I’m here. It’s been a crazy morning.”
“Is this a good time?”
“Yes, it is. I’m on my way to the gallery for business.”
The recording paused. “That motherfucker knew where you were going to be.”
Trent made another phone call. “Send me all the details of where Commander Taylor has been since we started tailing him. Call Eva at the art gallery and ask her why the fuck protocol wasn’t followed on that gift.”
Time passed as my mind contemplated all the different possibilities of what had happened. The gates to the estate opened, and I felt safer. Another SUV was parked in the circle part of the drive. The mood was tense as we all walked into the house.
I wanted this over with.
Another security guard emerged from nowhere as though they multiplied on demand.
The box came into sight, and I turned the other way, afraid the ginger ale would not stay down. I never wanted to see the contents again.
“Andre, please take this and wait for me outside.”
Thank goodness, the finger left. Just the thought. I focused on the patterned curtains while getting my thoughts under control.
“Let’s sit, Willow. You look a little pale.”
I felt pale. I sat on the couch, and Trent joined me in the chair next to me. Carson walked out of the study with his hair pulled pack. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Everything go well?”
I shook my head. “I got another message.”
Carson’s eyes went wide. “What type of message?”
I motioned for Trent to tell him. The putrid smell still lingered. “Willow received a box with a finger and a note stating they were coming for her.”
“Oh fuck.” Yeah, that was putting it mildly. “How in the fuck did that happen, Trent?”
Trent ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re checking into that. I’m going to take the finger to a trusted lab. Run some tests. See if there’s anything.”
Andre came to the door, and Trent excused himself. The burner phone dinged in my purse. Shit. I forgot to turn down the volume. Quickly, I found the phone and silenced it without bringing any attention to myself.
“Francesca and I are staying here tonight. I don’t want you alone.”
I looked over at Carson, the tears finding their way to the surface as the shock wore off. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Carson brought me into a hug. “You’re not alone, angel. I’m here for you. We’re all here.”
The silent tears came fast. Trent cleared his throat, and I hastily wiped them away. “The box was delivered to the business upstairs of the gallery while Eva was visiting a friend. She tucked it in her purse and didn’t think about it.”
These people were good. Really good. My eyes widened, and Carson was in front of my face. “Don’t let your thoughts go there, Willow. No one is taking you.”
The words weren’t reassuring at this point, but I put on my game face.
Trent walked further into the room. “We also found out why Alex sent money to Apple Blossom using the money he wired from your account.”
“Why?” I asked.
Trent sat in the chair across from me. “It’s a spec
ial needs school. His son goes there under the alias Toby McIntosh.”
Carson jumped in. “Why does his son go there?”
Trent answered, “Gabriel Alexander Thompson the Second has autism.”
This little boy was an innocent bystander in all of this, too. Alex, the king of bastards, had potentially put his child in harm’s way. If whoever sent the note was willing to take his wife, a child would be icing on the cake. In college, I had taught art to autistic children. It had been part of my curriculum.
Children weren’t able to pick their parents. “What’s the status of his tuition?”
“The account is in arrears since the drafts stopped a little over two weeks ago. If his mother doesn’t become current on the account within two weeks, it looks like he’ll be released from school.”
I cradled my head in my hands. This was terrible. I thought about my baby. I was fortunate to not have financial stress added to the situation. The image of the little boy came to mind—he was a little Alex through and through. We were both victims of the same circumstances. I wanted to help this little boy any way I was able to without becoming directly involved in his life.
After clearing my throat, I asked. “Can we set something up to pay the tuition? I don’t want them to be able to take cash out, but I don’t want this little boy to pay for the sins of his parents if this school is legit and he truly does have autism.”
Running his fingers over his forehead, Trent thought for a second. “Let me do some additional checks. If everything looks legit, I’ll get it figured out how to funnel the funds through without you being involved. I’ll bring it to you to sign off on.”