32. Elijah

Iwas up early the next morning, having barely slept. Each time I drifted off, I was tortured by nightmares, of Luke being dragged off, alone in some dark room in handcuffs. So when a message from Ripley came through on my back-up phone around six a.m., I bolted upright in bed and listened with my heart jammed in my throat.

"The police don't have a lot of leads so far," he said, "except for some tire tracks and a couple witnesses at a nearby gas station. No ransom note, but if they were going to send one it'd be within the first forty-eight hours."

A ransom note would be something at least. Some indicator that he was alive and hadn't vanished in the five minutes he was out of my sight.

After a quick shower and a few sips of coffee, I pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of basketball shorts. I got on the road, out of the city and heading back to the Hamptons. I wasn't unaware that I was dressed in the exact outfit Luke had teased me about by the gazebo at the garden party.

But thoughts of Luke only evoked a rising anxiety, so I calmed myself by following the threads of every single piece of information he'd gathered in the last two weeks.

There was Clarence Craven, the environmental activist, who'd hated Lincoln and TBG for three decades. And the angry protesters at Sunrise Village. Plus, per Ethel and Clarita, there were Lincoln's abundance of secrets, the ones he used to blackmail influential people to make his job easier and more prosperous.

Vincent Maura, the stalker, had been responsible for at least two of the threats since Lincoln had died, but he was still in police custody and couldn't have kidnapped Luke yesterday.

Of course, there was Senator Wallace, who'd clearly been helping Lincoln to grease the bureaucratic wheels for who knew how long. Luke's working theory was that she and Lincoln worked together as a team to blackmail people throughout Cape Avalon.

But who of these people would have cause to actually kidnap Luke? And why? If this was still all related to some missing flash drive, then what the hell was on that thing?

When I finally reached my destination, I triple-checked that I had the right address. The parking lot was nearly empty, though a moving truck was being unloaded. A new sign on the side of the building read Preston Beaumont Real Estate and the website described the business as focusing on luxury properties throughout New York and Connecticut.

I was here to finally speak with Lincoln's hard-to-pin-down assistant, Adrian.

But there was one person I wanted to see first.

I found Preston in the largest office, palms on the desk, wearing a slightly rumpled suit with stubble dotting his jaw. When he noticed my approach, all the blood drained from his face.

"Did…did something else happen to Luke?" he asked.

I stopped midway into the room. "No. Unless you've heard something I haven't."

He straightened and rubbed his temples with his thumbs. "The authorities were here till late last night." He rounded the desk. "I knew he was being threatened, I just never…" He gave a shrug. "We come from a high-profile family. Security risks come with the territory, but I never thought he'd actually get kidnapped, for Christ's sake."

I was quiet, studying him, as a cold fury rose up my spine. I understood Luke wanting to mend the burned bridge between them, now that their father was dead. But I'd also watched Preston belittle Luke in front of me like he was a meddlesome child.

"Do you have siblings, Elijah?" he asked.

"One. A little brother."

His eyes darted across my face. "Luke…Luke was my hero, when I was younger. Before I stopped being allowed to think things like that. When I suddenly mattered to our father. It was like I'd spent my entire life in darkness and then finally saw the sun. I didn't know what it would do to me—I'd never seen the sun. All I had to do was turn on my brother, my hero, and Dad would make life easier for me. Pure sunlight, every hour of the day. But that was his thing, you know? Lincoln Beaumont made everything easy for people until he no longer had use for them. And all I could think about when the cops called, when they told me that Luke…"

He blinked rapidly, clearing his throat. "All I could think about was that my whole life has been a lie up until this point."

I stayed completely still, unsure of what Preston might admit to next, letting him fill in the silence. Wanting to rip open a theory I'd had about exactly how far a brother might go to regain the company he'd been raised to lead.

"Luke never let things get to him," Preston continued. "He was always so calm, so relaxed. Dad could say all kinds of shit to him, and Luke would go out with his surfboard, catch a few waves, then return like nothing had happened." He scratched the top of his head. "I knew what Dad was doing. Not letting him eat. Making him sleep outside. I tried to help him. To sneak him food, to pull him back inside. But Dad's fucking bodyguards always stopped me."

My jaw clenched. "I didn't know that."

"It's why Luke hated them when we were kids. They were only eager to follow orders. But I could have tried harder, should have tried harder." Preston moved to brush past me, but I stopped him with a hard palm to the chest. He stared down at my hand, startled. "Excuse me?"

"Your brother is missing," I said harshly. "He could be hurt. He could be"—a silent scream kicked up in my brain—"worse than that. Tell me now if you did something to him. It's not too late to stop whatever it is."

Preston's nostrils flared. "Why would I do something to him?"

"He inherited a billion-dollar company and you didn't," I said with a scowl. "People have done worse things for much, much less."

He shoved off my hand with a growl of frustration. "No, I didn't do anything. I wouldn't. I could never. And also fuck you for thinking it."

He stormed out of the office, leaving me still shaking with restraint. It was exhausting, projecting an air of nonchalance when I wanted to tear this town to shreds until I found Luke. Which was when Adrian found me. He was young, probably in his midtwenties, white with boxy glasses and tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of his button-down.

"So you're the one who sent my boss huffing out to his car in a terrible mood," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know you, don't I?"

I nodded. "Elijah Knight. I was Lincoln's protection agent."

"I knew it." He tipped his head to the side. "Are you here about his son?"

I moved to shut the door. "I'm here about your former boss. Whoever kidnapped Luke was pissed at his dad. You were his assistant. I know you saw the messages, heard the voicemails."

Adrian raised a shoulder. "Nature of the job. They get a lot of death threats. Weird shit too. A woman once mailed a former boss of mine a paper bag full of her own hair."

"Did you have any suspicions about who was doing it?"

"Not a damn clue," he said with a frown. "I'm an executive assistant. I'm paid for speed and discretion. Whatever I see or hear goes in one ear, out the other."

I bit back a sigh and switched tactics. "You quit a few days before Lincoln died and have been avoiding Luke's calls and emails ever since. It's an interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

"Wow. I didn't anticipate this line of questioning. Are you insinuating that I'm at fault?"

When I didn't respond, he sighed and said, "It was just a coincidence. I quit that Thursday, left with my things. He died that Sunday, I think. I had nothing to do with it. And I just started a new, extremely stressful job. I'm avoiding everyone's calls right now."

He cocked his head to the side again. "Who is Luke Beaumont to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not in your uniform and you look about a hundred different kinds of fucked-up. He's more than your client, right?"

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Dropped my gaze.

"If it helps, I'd burn this town to the ground to find my partner if they'd been kidnapped. So I get it."

"Is it that obvious?"

He gave me a warm smile. "It is when it matters."

We could be together—we could figure something out—if only you'd let yourself live a little.

Emotion clawed at the back of my throat. But I shook it off before I broke down in front of a complete fucking stranger.

"It does matter. He matters," I finally said. "Is there anything else you can give me? The first letter Luke received mentioned a flash drive they were coming for, a flash drive Luke—or probably Lincoln—owed to them."

His tipped his head to the side. "Kenneth and Gregory finally convinced Lincoln to digitize everything, right before I started. One of my jobs was offloading every stray flash drive lying around that place. And I checked everything in those files. It was all above board and perfectly legal. Last I knew, there wasn't a flash drive left. I tossed them all."

I cursed, raking a hand through my hair.

"But you know…" He lowered his voice. "Lincoln hid stuff like a little pack rat in there."

I reared back. "He…what?"

"There's a loose board under his desk where he would hide all the trinkets he bought for his mistresses. In liability terms, the man was a walking disaster. But like every other narcissist I've worked for, his arrogance was his downfall. Lincoln never thought he'd get caught. If you're looking for some secret flash drive or whatever, I'd tear that office apart."

The small clue energized me so much, I was halfway out the door before I said, "Thank you. Your help is appreciated."

"Don't mention it," he said, sending me a playful wink that made me think of Luke. "Now go get your man back."