"Probably not. But it doesn't matter. My father did it this way to remind us we don't have anything without him. But he was wrong. Because there's you and your boys. You matter. Thatcher and August matter. I'll tell you what I couldn't live with: choosing the money over going after Thatcher. Especially given what happened today."
I didn't have a response. He was right. And still, the idea of him losing his inheritance left me with an empty hole in my chest. I wanted to bring goodness to his life, to make him happy. Not be the reason he lost it all.
We inched forward, almost at the curve in the road. I caught the edge of a road work sign, the kind that points out a coming merge. Okay, this made sense. It was so slow because we were merging into one lane. Maybe things would pick up when we passed the sign. I could only hope.
"I don't get it, though," Thatcher said from behind us, sounding years younger, his voice tight and small. "You don't even know me."
"Want to hear a story? It's not a great one. Sad and kind of scary," Tenn said, flicking his eyes to the rearview to catch Thatcher's attention.
"Sure, I guess," Thatch said, uncertain and worried.
"When I was just out of college, my younger brother Finn was kidnapped. He was on spring break in Mexico to celebrate turning twenty-one, and some bad dudes figured out who he was, slipped something in his drink, and took him."
Finn? I remembered him at dinner the other night in his board shorts and faded shirt, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.
"What happened?" Thatcher asked, his voice rough.
"The kidnappers sent a ransom demand to my father. Prentice Sawyer did not like being told what to do. Even to save one of his sons. He told the kidnappers to do whatever they wanted with Finn."
"What?" I couldn't imagine it. "But he called the FBI, right? Or people like Sinclair Security? It sounds like that's what they do."
Tenn shook his head, inching us another ten feet closer to the merge. Up ahead, I thought I saw cars picking up speed, the bright glare of road work lights and smoke from flares. The clock kept rolling forward. Thirty-two minutes. Not enough time. I felt sick.
"My father could have called someone, but he didn't. If he paid one set of kidnappers, others would come for us. That was his excuse. The kidnappers didn't believe him, so they tortured Finn, recorded it, and played it back for my father, thinking it would change his mind."
"Did it?" Thatcher whispered.
"No. They kept at it for a few days, a new recording every day. We didn't find out all of this until later, or we would have tried to help. My father kept it a secret. He wasn't giving any kidnappers a red cent, he said."
"Your father was a real piece of work," I said in the understatement of the century.
"And then some," Tenn agreed.
"Did your brother die?" Thatcher asked quietly as if he was afraid of the answer.
"No. Eventually, the kidnappers realized they weren't going to get a payoff, and Finn thinks they planned to kill him. But they got drunk while they were arguing about what to do and he managed to get away. He was out in the desert, and by the time he found help, he was in bad shape. Dehydrated, injured from the torture, and really, really pissed off at Prentice. He dropped off the map for a while. We all thought he was dead. That was when my father told us about the kidnapping."
"Did he regret it?" I asked. We rounded the turn and the traffic started to move. Not at normal highway speeds, but faster than a crawl. It wasn't going to be enough. Unless this SUV had wings, we weren't going to make it.
Tenn gave a wry laugh. "Prentice? Not a chance. He was angry, but not remorseful. I'll never forget how furious he was that Finn had gotten kidnapped in the first place, and after it was over, so annoyed at the idea that Finn was dead. Not grief-stricken or remorseful. Annoyed. Like the whole thing was a big inconvenience. Later, we found out that Finn recuperated at a friend's place, and when he was well enough, he left to wander around the country. He never came home. Not until Prentice died. But I'll never forget the pictures."
"What pictures?"
"They faxed pictures of Finn. I never heard the recordings of the calls, but I saw those pictures. Finn was… I'm pretty sure he spent some time in the hospital. It was bad." Tenn swallowed and blinked hard.
Meeting Thatcher's eyes in the rearview, he said, "I wasn't letting that happen to you or your mom. No fucking way. Maybe if Sinclair Security had a team free and they could have gone in and gotten you out. Maybe then I would have stayed at Heartstone with your mom and waited. Those guys are pros, and we would have only been in the way. But they didn't have a full team to spare, and it was too dangerous to leave you with your dad. As it is, we got very lucky their job in Memphis was delayed."