Chapter 7 - THE BROTHER WHO DIDN'T COME HOME|
At 8:42 p.m., Emilio finally called.
Marisol answered before the first ring finished.
“Emilio? Where have you been?”
“I was in a study group. My phone died.”
“Are you alone?”
A pause.
“Yeah. Why?”
She closed her eyes.
She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to ask him to leave the university and come straight to the estate, where security could protect him.
But if someone had been watching her, mentioning Emilio might put him in greater danger.
“Listen to me,” she said. “I need you to do exactly what I tell you.”
His voice changed.
“Marisol, what's wrong?”
“Go to the campus security office. Stay there until I call you back. Don't leave with anyone, even if they say I sent them.”
“Did somebody hurt you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
She realized her mistake.
“Emilio, please. I can't explain over the phone.”
He went silent.
Then he said, “There's a black SUV parked outside the library.”
Marisol stood so quickly that her chair scraped the floor.
“What?”
“I noticed it when I came out. The driver keeps looking at me.”
“Go inside. Now.”
“I am.”
“Tell campus security that someone may be following you.”
“Marisol, who is this person?”
“I don't know.”
It was the truth, and it frightened her more than any lie could have.
She heard a door open on Emilio's end.
“There's someone coming,” he whispered.
“Don't go with them.”
“It's a man. He says he's from the estate.”
Marisol's heart seemed to stop.
“Ask him for his name.”
A muffled exchange followed.
Then Emilio said, “He says his name is Grant.”
Marisol turned toward the security supervisor standing beside her.
Grant was still in the room.
He watched her face change.
“What's happening?” he asked.
She covered the phone.
“My brother says a man claiming to be you is outside his library.”
Grant went very still.
“Put Emilio on speaker.”
Marisol did.
Grant leaned toward the phone.
“Emilio, this is Grant Mercer. I'm at Ashford Estate with your sister. I have not sent anyone to you.”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Emilio shouted.
Then the line went dead.
Marisol screamed his name.
She called back.
No answer.
She called again.
The phone rang six times before going to voicemail.
Adrienne entered the room just as she began to pace.
“What happened?”
“They took my brother.”
He listened without interrupting while Grant contacted campus security and local police. The first report came back within minutes: a black SUV had been seen leaving the university parking area at speed. A witness had caught part of the license plate, but the number was incomplete.
Marisol pressed both hands against her mouth.
“I should have told him to come here.”
“You couldn't have known,” Adrienne said.
“I knew somebody was dangerous. I knew they were watching me.”
“That's why we have to think clearly now.”
She turned on him.
“Don't tell me to think clearly. That's my brother.”
Adrienne accepted the anger without defending himself.
“You're right.”
The simple answer made her stop.
He continued, “If someone took Emilio because of what happened today, they believe he knows something or they believe you can be controlled through him.”
“What if they hurt him?”
“We will find him.”
“You can't promise that.”
“No,” he admitted. “I can't. But I can promise that I won't treat his life like a bargaining chip.”
Marisol stared at him.
She had expected reassurance, the polished kind wealthy men gave when they wanted other people to remain calm.
Instead, Adrienne offered her the truth.
Grant approached with a new message from campus security. A student had seen the driver speaking to Emilio near the library entrance. The man had shown a badge or identification card, but nobody had been able to read it.
The vehicle's registration appeared to belong to a company that had dissolved two years earlier.
Adrienne took the report.
“Someone planned this.”
Marisol looked at the empty phone in her hand.
“Then they planned it before I ruined the cake.”
“Yes.”
“Which means they knew I had seen the vial.”
Adrienne's expression darkened.
“Or they were prepared for anyone who might interfere.”
He turned to Grant.
“Get me every security recording from the campus and every road leading out of it. Contact the police liaison. Quietly.”
Marisol gripped the edge of the desk.
“I'm going with you.”
Adrienne shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“No,” he said. “But the people who took your brother may be counting on you to walk into a trap. If you want to help Emilio, we need to make sure they can't use you to reach him.”
Her phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message appeared on the screen.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE CAKE STAND.
Below it was a photograph.
Emilio sat tied to a chair in a dark room, his face bruised, his eyes fixed on the camera.
Marisol made a sound she had never heard from herself before.
May you like
Adrienne took the phone.
For the first time since the wedding began, his hands shook.
