“Did he come back?” Matthew asked. “Did he do something to either of you?” If it was the Fairytale Killer that the children had seen then it didn't fit his MO that he would harm either of them, but just because he hadn’t done it so far—that they knew of—didn't mean he wouldn’t do it.
“No,” Emmy replied quickly. “But Mom was angry when we told her. She said everything was fine, but we heard her on the phone with someone later that night. She said she never called an electrician and she thought the man was …” again she trailed off and shot her father an anxious glance.
“Who did she think it was, Emmy,” he prodded.
“She thought Dad hired a private investigator to try and find something on her that he could use in the divorce so he’d get us, and the house, and everything else,” Emmy finished.
“I wouldn’t do that, Emmy,” Beau said quickly.
The girl turned scared eyes to them. “Do you think we saw the man who took our mom?”
“You very well could have,” Matthew answered. “Do you remember what he looked like?”
“He was old,” Mac said immediately.
Old to a kid and actually old were two different things. “How old?” Matthew asked. “My age, your dad’s age, older?”
“About dad’s age,” Emmy said.
That would put him in his late thirties, the age they believed the killer to be. “What did he look like?”
“He was tall, and he had blonde hair, and brown eyes,” Emmy replied quickly.
“Do you think if we asked you to work with someone who draws faces that you two could help him draw one that looked like the man you saw?” Jonathon asked.
Both children nodded solemnly.
“Are you going to find our mom?” Emmy asked.
“Yes,” he answered honestly.
“Alive?” the girl asked.
That was still up in the air. He wanted to promise her that they would find her mother alive and bring her home, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie just to give her false hope. Although he didn't want to lie to the twelve-year-old the words stuck in his throat and wouldn’t come out.
Apparently, he didn't need to say the words. The look on his face was answer enough.
Emmy’s composure finally cracked, her face crumpled, her dark eyes filled with tears that quickly overflowed down her cheeks, and she flung herself into her father’s arms. When his sister fell apart, Mac quickly followed. Beau gathered both of his crying children into his arms, but the smug look on his face set Matthew’s teeth on edge. Beau Drake may not be the killer, but he was still a rotten human being.
* * * * *
11:06 A.M.
Mila was frantic about her kids.
She had to get to them. They’d be worried about her. They’d be scared and hurting. They couldn’t lose their mother. She couldn’t die here, she couldn’t do that to her children. She had to get out of here. Mila just didn't know how.
How could she have been so stupid?
Falling for some ridiculous story from a stranger. She knew better than that. She had spent many hours talking at length with her twelve-year-old about keeping herself safe online. They had talked about predators, that some people were out to hook victims and would tell them anything they wanted to hear. They had talked about being cautions and remembering that the photo the person showed you wasn't necessarily them, and that you could never know if what they were telling you was true or not.
All this time she had been so worried about her almost teenage daughter falling victim to a sexual predator, and yet she hadn’t heeded her own warning and now she was the victim.
Was this her punishment for dating someone while she was still married? Sure, she and Beau were separated and were in the process of getting divorced, but technically she was still married so technically she had been planning on committing adultery.
She had to get out of this room. Mila had been trying to work the screws out of the door pretty much since she woke up here.
He had drugged her. The chocolates and champagne waiting for her in the limousine had been laced with sleeping pills or something. When she woke up, she had been here. In this room reminiscent of a medieval castle. He had changed her out of the pink dress he’d had sent to her house for their supposed first date and into a long white cotton nightgown. Her first thought had been that he’d raped her while she was unconscious, but she didn't think he had.