Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

Brandon

I can’t go home. I can’t go to my parent’s apartment in the city—my mom is sleeping on a pullout bed in my father’s hospital room.

I stumble through the city streets, blinded by the thoughts hurtling around my head and the sound of Rose’s voice. “ Yes, I’m coming back .”

Another cab rolls past, and I flag it down. I give him Ron Valentine’s address before I even realize that’s where I’m heading. Rose—for reasons currently unknown to me—has a vested interest in my takeover of Ron’s business, so if anyone can help me find her, I figure it’s my father’s dearest friend.

The concierge eyes me up and down when I arrive at the apartment building. He doesn’t let me out of his sight while he calls through to their apartment, and I can see in his eyes that he’s hoping they’ll send me away.

They don’t.

Sumaira is waiting for me when I step out of the elevator, a gold embroidered silk robe fastened around her waist, fluffy mules on her feet. “Brandon? Is it your father?”

“No. His condition is stable. That’s not why I’m here.”

She, too, eyes me up, her eyes lingering on my unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. I’ve lost all concept of time but looking at the pink-gray sky taking up most of the view from the tall windows, I’m guessing it’s almost dawn. I don’t even know how long Rose has been missing.

I follow her into the open-plan kitchen where she starts the coffee machine. “You look like you could use some caffeine.”

“I need to speak to Ron. Is he here?”

Her eyes drift towards the bedroom and back again, and she busies herself finding cups and spoons. The kitchen cabinets are shiny crimson, the accessories ivory, the black marble counter, a reflection of Sumaira’s vibrant culture—it’s a complete contrast to my mother’s kitchen which is pale and understated, designed to draw the eye away from the cooking area.

“No,” she says now. “He isn’t here.”

“Where is he? Can I get in touch with him?” I’m already sliding my phone out of my pocket.

“I-I don’t know where he is.”

I swallow and inhale the aroma of fresh coffee beans. I need caffeine more than I realized. “Has he been to see my father?”

She shakes her head. She doesn’t move from behind the counter as if the promise of caffeine is what’s keeping her upright too.

“What’s going on, Sumaira?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice breaks.

“Rose is missing, and I think that Ron is involved somehow. Please, Sumaira, I need you to help me. Anything that you can tell me, anything at all.”

Her shoulders heave with unshed sobs. I walk around the counter and pull her into a hug. It’s a bizarre sensation hugging one of my parents’ friends—they’ve always been around, strong, loyal, people I looked up to—and this scenario should be flipped on its head. She should be the one comforting me.

I settle her on the couch, fill two cups with steaming black coffee, and sit opposite her. When she has calmed down, she tells me what she knows between small dainty sips.

“He hasn’t been the same since the takeover bid. I talk to him, and he isn’t listening. He’s away with the fairies most of the time. I asked him if there was another way for him to keep control of the business, and he told me it wasn’t that simple. I wanted to help.” She looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I wanted to help, Brandon.”

“But he wouldn’t discuss it with you?”

“I’ve never gotten involved with the business. He asked me why I wanted to start now when it was out of his control.”

“What did he mean: out of his control?”

“I don’t know.” She slides a silk handkerchief from the pocket of her robe and uses it to dab the tears from under her eyes. “Do you know what’s wrong with him, Brandon? I know the company has been his life, but what about me? What about our daughter? Our plans for retirement?”

I swallow a mouthful of coffee. It isn’t enough to dispel the swirling uneasiness in my gut. “I guess, sometimes, plans don’t feel real until it’s happening.” I pause. “Did he ever mention Rose to you before now? Rose Carter?”

“Rose Carter?” She furrows her brow.

“My mother’s temporary housekeeper on Ruby Island.”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” I set my empty cup down on the coffee table and rise. “I can’t stay, Sumaira, but I’ll speak to Ron. See if we can reach some sort of agreement.”

The sun is spreading its glow above the skyline of glass towers when I emerge onto the sidewalk. I call Julia. Her number is still unobtainable. I walk without thinking, my legs carrying me forward until I’m standing outside the Russo building.

When Carlos Russo first started out, he took over the entire top level of the building, and as his business grew, he spread his wings to the lower levels, but refused to move. He remembered his roots, and I also heard him say once that moving to another building or another city would bring bad luck upon him and his family.

I don’t stop to speak to the security guard.

The elevator is waiting. “Sir? Where are you going?” The door closes as the guard picks up the phone to call through to whoever is on the top floor.

Luca Russo is walking out of his office to greet me when the elevator stops. A lazy smile spreads across his face, reminding me too much of Damon.

“Where’s Rose?” I demand.

“Good morning to you too.” He gestures to the open door of his office. “Shall we?”

I follow him inside. I don’t sit down.

“As you’re here, I’m guessing that your wife failed to convince you to change your mind.”

“Where is she?”

His eyes darken, the pupils enlarging until they seem to swallow whole any color that might’ve existed in the irises. “I don’t think you’re in any position to demand answers.”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want. Cancel the deal, and you might just be in time to save your wife .” His lips turn up at the corners, but he isn’t smiling.

“Leave her out of it. This has nothing to do with Rose.”

“Too late for that.”

“We’ll see what the cops have to say about it then.”

“Go ahead.” He turns the landline phone on his desk around and gestures for me to use it. “By the time they finish questioning you, it’ll be too late.”

Cold flushes through me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leans forward and checks the time in the corner of his computer screen. “I figure she has about six hours. If she’s lucky. If not…” He shrugs.

I lunge over the top of his desk, savoring the shock in his eyes before the top of my skull collides with his jaw. My hands close around his throat. “Where is she?”

His eyes bulge, and saliva drools from his open mouth, but his lips are still twitching at the corners in a sinister smile.

“You crazy fucker. Tell me where she is, or I swear I’ll?—”

“What?” he chokes out. “Kill me?”

I bash his head against the floor. I hear the sickening thud of bone on hardwood and ramp up the pressure around his neck. A blood vessel bursts in his right eye. Still, he keeps his gaze fixated on me, taunting, daring me to go right ahead and kill him, and see where it gets me.

“Where is she?” I grind out between clenched jaws.

“Somewhere … you’ll never … find her.”

I release him and he lies on the floor, motionless, while a bloody tear drips from the corner of his eye giving him a macabre appearance.

I turn around and walk out without a backward glance.

Six hours.

Ron is AWOL. Carlos Russo hasn’t been seen in a while, his sons are enjoying their little game, and I’m no closer to finding out where Rose is.

Outside, I rub a hand over my face and try to shake myself into action. Where do I even start?

An incoming call on my phone reveals my mother’s face. “Mom.”

“Brandon, is Rose with you?”

I start walking. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I know where she is.” She’s whispering, and an image of her with her hand covering her mouth pops into my head.

“Where?”

“Don’t tell your father. I read his correspondence while he’s been sleeping.”

“Mom!” I switch the cellphone to my left ear, keep my head down, dodge the other pedestrians on the street.

“American Falls. There’s a reservoir?—”

I end the call.

The CCTV footage. The house on the lake. My father visited the warehouse with Ron. Perhaps he didn’t know how far the Russos would go—I must believe that—but my father is behind everything that has happened.

Sam and I watch the diving teams from the Idaho Police Department, slipping backwards into the reservoir at American Falls. I had to pull some strings in the name of Carlos Russo, using the CCTV footage obtained illegally from the warehouse, and the correspondence that my mother had discovered on my father’s tablet.

The water, reflecting the gray sky, looks murky, sinister, and I’ve been shivering since I got here, despite the thermal blanket a paramedic wrapped around my shoulders, and the coffee supplied by Sam.

Six hours, Luca Russo said. Even using the private jet, it took seven hours to get here minus the customs checks and flight space protocol at either end.

The divers were already here when we arrived. I’ll be charged with wasting police time if this turns out to be a wild goose chase, but I’ll suffer that, knowing I tried my best. Rose should never have been involved in this crazy feud over fucking money. She wouldn’t have been involved if she hadn’t been in the lobby of Weiss Tower with her friend’s kid that day, delivering her dad’s packed lunch.

Coincidence. Fate. The Universe working its fucking twisted magic.

“How are you doing, buddy?” Sam rubs my arm like he can warm me up, inject some hope back into me.

I shake my head, divert my gaze back to the water’s surface, to the waiting boats, the cops expectantly awaiting information from below. I can’t speak.

What if we’re too late? What if Rose is already dead? How will I ever forgive myself? How will I ever live with the image of her drowning, her lungs slowly filling with water, knowing that if I’d only listened to her…

A diver reappears, breaking through the water’s surface, and I straighten, move closer to the edge of the reservoir as if I’ll be able to hear what he’s saying.

Instantaneously, the boats become hives of activity. Winches are activated, heavy chains that lower retrieval mechanisms into the reservoir. The diver disappears again.

“They’ve found something.” I turn around to face the uniformed officer who spoke.

“Did they say what?” Sam asks on my behalf.

“A container. No water corrosion, so it’s likely to have entered the water recently.”

“Hang on in there, buddy,” Sam says with forced cheer. “They’ve found her.”

The process for lifting the container, moving it onto land, and breaking into it, seems to take forever. Six hours. If she’s lucky . By my reckoning, we ran out of luck a few hours ago, and when they finally pry the lid off and the paramedics climb in, Sam will have to restrain me from following them.

Another paramedic, a young woman around Rose’s age, waits with me. She doesn’t offer me false hope—she simply stands quietly by my side, ready to provide whatever comfort she can when required.

Stretchers are brought over from the ambulances. A person cocooned in a silver thermal blanket is lifted out of the container and placed on the first stretcher. I catch a glimpse of black hair and a strangled cry sticks in my throat.

It isn’t Rose.

I stumble towards the stretcher as it’s lifted onto a mobile trolley, the hydraulics raising it above the ground. The young paramedic tries to stop me, but I shrug her off. It’s a woman. Her skin is pale, gray almost, one eye a slit in the middle of pulpy purple flesh. Her jaw is mottled with bruising and her mouth is misshapen, but the face is still familiar.

“Jennifer.” I try to get closer, but an officer pulls me away, and Sam’s voice penetrates the shrieks that are filling my head.

“There’s someone else, Brandon. They’ve found another body.”

Another body encased in silver. This time a glimpse of honey-blonde hair.

I’m wading through mud to reach her, my movements sluggish, my thoughts a million miles away. Open your eyes, Rose. Open your eyes.

I reach her before they can stop me. “Is she alive?” I’m dreading the response, but I have to know.

“We’ve detected a pulse,” the paramedic says, discreetly guiding me away from the stretcher as they count to three and lift it onto the gurney. “Faint, but she’s still alive.”

Tears spill, and I don’t bother wiping them away. “Stay with me, Rose. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

I hold her hand while they cover her nose and mouth with an oxygen mask and move her into the ambulance. The vehicle blue-lights us all the way to the nearest hospital, and I vow to protect her with my life, the mantra playing on repeat inside my head.

I’m so consumed by the notion that I can keep Rose alive by force of willpower that I don’t even notice the second container being lifted from the water.