Chapter 9

I called 911.

Then I called Dad again. And again. And again.

The police arrived in minutes.

They searched the house. The yard. The shop.

No sign of Dad.

Detective Mills showed up. His face was grim.

"When did you last speak to him?"

"This morning. He was fine. He was going to the supply store."

"Did he say anything unusual?"

I thought back.

"He said... he said he was meeting someone. A former employee of Victor's. A man who helped build the pool."

Mills's eyes widened.

"He didn't tell me that. Do you know who?"

I shook my head.

"No. He just said the man wanted to talk. That he was ready to testify."

Mills was already on his radio.

"APB on James Wilson. Sixty-two years old. Gray hair. Blue Ford F-150. Possible abduction."

I sank onto the broken couch.

This was my fault. I should have been with him. I should have—

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

"Dad?"

A man's voice. Not Dad.

"Listen carefully, girl. Your father is alive. For now."

Victor.

"What do you want?"

"I want the original notebook. The original USB. Not the copies you gave the police. The originals."

I looked at Mills. He was mouthing: Keep him talking.

"I don't know where they are."

"Liar. Your father told me. He keeps them in a safe. You have the combination. Bring them to the old quarry on Route 9. One hour. Alone. Or your father dies."

He hung up.

Mills was already organizing.

"We'll wire you. We'll follow. We'll have snipers—"

"No," I said. "He said alone. If he sees police, he'll kill Dad."

Mills grabbed my shoulders.

"Listen to me. Victor Castillo is a murderer. He will kill your father no matter what. The only chance we have is to catch him in the act."

I stared at him.

He was right. And I hated it.

I went home and got the originals.

Dad's safe was behind a loose brick in the fireplace. I had known about it since I was a kid.

I put the notebook and USB in a bag.

And I drove to the quarry.

The police were following. Hidden. Unmarked cars.

I parked at the edge of the cliff.

Victor stepped out of the shadows.

He was holding a gun.

And behind him, tied to a chair, was my father.

Bruised. Bloody. But alive.

"Dad!" I screamed.

"Bring the bag," Victor said. "No tricks."

I walked forward.

And in that moment, I made a decision.

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I wasn't just going to save my father.

I was going to make Victor Castillo pay.