Chapter 8
We reached the private terminal with twelve minutes to spare.
Police vehicles surrounded the entrance.
But the runway was empty.
My heart sank.
“Where’s the plane?”
Holloway ran inside.
I followed despite three officers telling me to stay back.
The terminal employee looked terrified.
“A Gulfstream left nine minutes ago.”
“Destination?” Holloway demanded.
“The filed destination was Louisville.”
Kentucky.
The house.
The school.
Everything pointed there.
Holloway started making calls.
I stared through the window at the empty runway.
Nine minutes.
We missed Sophie by nine minutes.
Dana touched my shoulder.
“We’ll get her.”
I turned on her.
“How?”
She didn’t answer.
Then the employee said, “Wait.”
Everyone looked at him.
“That plane didn’t have a child.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I processed the passengers myself.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Who?”
“Two men and a woman.”
“Names?”
“They used private manifests. I can retrieve them.”
“What about a little girl?”
“No child boarded.”
I grabbed the counter.
“Then where is she?”
Holloway’s phone rang.
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“The vehicle Ryan used was found in a garage.”
“Was Sophie inside?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“We’re checking cameras.”
Security footage showed Ryan driving into the garage with Sophie.
Thomas’s car entered four minutes later.
A third vehicle followed.
Black SUV.
Then something strange happened.
Ryan and Thomas boarded a shuttle toward the private terminal.
The SUV left in the opposite direction.
Sophie was not visible with either man.
I pointed at the screen.
“She’s in the SUV.”
Holloway nodded.
“Likely.”
“Who’s driving?”
They zoomed in.
A woman.
Dark hair.
Baseball cap.
Her face was partially hidden.
But when she looked toward the camera, my stomach turned.
Rachel was right.
She looked like me.
Not identical.
But close enough from a distance.
Same hair.
Similar face.
Similar build.
“Who is she?”
Holloway froze the image.
“We’ll run facial recognition.”
Dana stared.
“Why would they need someone who resembles Emily?”
I knew.
“To be seen with Sophie.”
Holloway looked at me.
“They’re creating a false trail.”
A mother leaving with her daughter.
Maybe crossing state lines.
Maybe disappearing.
If the right cameras captured us, Ryan could claim I abducted Sophie.
Again.
And if something happened to that woman later?
Would they identify her as me?
My skin went cold.
“No.”
Dana understood.
“They could fake Emily’s death.”
Holloway didn’t respond.
That meant he was thinking the same thing.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Sophie in the back seat of a vehicle.
She looked terrified.
Below it:
STOP THE POLICE OR YOU GET HER BACK IN PIECES.
I nearly dropped the phone.
Holloway read it.
His jaw tightened.
Another message arrived.
COME ALONE.
A location pin followed.
An abandoned roadside motel forty miles east of Nashville.
Holloway immediately began planning surveillance.
“They said alone.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“If they see police—”
“They expect you to contact police.”
“What if they don’t care?”
“We handle it carefully.”
I stared at Sophie’s photograph.
They had put duct tape over her mouth.
Every protective instinct screamed louder than reason.
“I’m going.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Holloway.
“You just said—”
“You’ll go. We’ll be nearby.”
Dana grabbed my arm.
“No.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You absolutely do.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“And this is a trap.”
“Of course it’s a trap.”
I looked at her.
“But Sophie is inside it.”
Forty minutes later, I drove alone toward the motel.
Police tracked me from a distance.
A tiny earpiece connected me to Holloway.
No visible patrol cars.
No sirens.
No one close enough to scare the kidnappers.
The motel sat beside an old highway.
Half the windows were boarded.
The sign had lost several letters.
My phone buzzed.
ROOM 12.
I parked.
My hands trembled.
“Emily,” Holloway said through the earpiece. “We have eyes on the building.”
“Do you see Sophie?”
“Negative.”
“Any movement?”
“One heat signature in Room 12. Possibly two.”
I stepped out.
The afternoon heat felt unreal.
I walked toward the room.
The door stood slightly open.
“Police are positioned on the east and west sides,” Holloway whispered.
I pushed the door.
“Sophie?”
Nothing.
I entered.
The room smelled like dust.
One lamp was on.
A chair sat in the center.
Someone was tied to it.
My heart jumped.
“Sophie?”
The person raised her head.
Not Sophie.
The woman from the airport camera.
The woman who looked like me.
Her mouth was taped.
Her wrists were tied.
She had been beaten.
I rushed forward.
“Who are you?”
She made desperate sounds through the tape.
I removed it.
She gasped.
“Get out.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
“You need to leave.”
“Where is Sophie?”
“She’s not here.”
“Who are you?”
The woman looked at my face.
Tears filled her eyes.
“My name is Claire.”
“Claire what?”
“Claire Morgan.”
“Why do you look like me?”
She started crying.
“Because that’s why they chose me.”
My blood went cold.
“Who chose you?”
“Daniel.”
I cut at the ropes with a broken piece of metal from the table.
“What did they ask you to do?”
“He paid me.”
“For what?”
“To wear your clothes.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He said it was for a private investigation. He told me his client needed photographs of a woman leaving town.”
“You pretended to be me.”
“I didn’t know there was a child.”
My stomach twisted.
“What happened at the airport?”
“They brought Sophie to the garage.”
“Who?”
“Ryan and Thomas.”
“And?”
“Ryan told me to take her to a car.”
“Where?”
“I didn’t.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Sophie was crying. She said Ryan wasn’t allowed to take her.”
Hope flashed through me.
“What did you do?”
“I told Ryan I wouldn’t take part.”
“What happened?”
“Thomas hit me.”
I looked at the bruises.
“Where did they take Sophie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“They argued.”
“About what?”
“Ryan wanted to keep her. Thomas said she was leverage.”
My chest tightened.
“Then?”
“Daniel arrived.”
“Daniel?”
Claire nodded.
“He was driving the SUV.”
“The security video showed a woman.”
“That was me driving out.”
“But Sophie?”
“She wasn’t with me.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then where was she?”
Claire looked confused.
“I thought she went with Daniel.”
Holloway’s voice came through my earpiece.
“Emily, ask about another vehicle.”
“Was there another car?”
Claire nodded quickly.
“A white van.”
“Who drove it?”
“I didn’t see.”
“Did Sophie get into it?”
“I think so.”
“Who went with her?”
Claire swallowed.
“Lauren.”
My pulse raced.
“Where would Lauren take her?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Claire’s eyes widened.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Thomas yelled something.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Take her back to the beginning.’”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Holloway said, “We’re coming in.”
Police entered seconds later.
Claire was taken outside.
I stood in the motel room trying to understand.
Back to the beginning.
Beginning of what?
The plan?
My marriage?
Ryan’s relationship with the Reeves family?
Then I remembered something.
The college photograph.
Ryan.
Mercer.
Daniel.
Thomas.
They had known one another years before I met Ryan.
But there was one place before that.
My father.
Carter Development.
A company Ryan knew about when I didn’t.
How?
I called my mother.
She answered from Ohio.
“Emily? Are you okay?”
“Mom, I need you to tell me the truth.”
Silence.
“About Dad’s company.”
Her breath caught.
“Who told you?”
“Ryan.”
Long pause.
“Mom.”
“I wanted to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Your father’s death.”
I froze.
“Dad had a heart attack.”
“That’s what we told you.”
My skin prickled.
“What happened?”
“He died in a hotel room.”
“Why?”
“He was meeting investors in Nashville.”
I stopped breathing.
“Nashville?”
“Yes.”
“We lived in Ohio.”
“He was considering a development here.”
“Who was he meeting?”
My mother became quiet.
“I don’t remember every name.”
“Try.”
“There was a lawyer.”
My heart pounded.
“What lawyer?”
“Reeves.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thomas Reeves?”
“No.”
Relief flashed.
Then vanished when she continued.
“His father.”
I leaned against the wall.
“What happened after Dad died?”
“The project collapsed. I didn’t trust the people involved. Your father had changed his estate plan a few weeks earlier.”
“To leave me the company?”
“To protect his ownership for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were sixteen.”
“And after?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Another long silence.
“Someone broke into our house two days after the funeral.”
My heart stopped.
“They didn’t steal jewelry.”
“What did they take?”
“Your father’s files.”
I looked toward Holloway.
“Mom, did police investigate Dad’s death?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“No charges.”
“Was Mercer involved?”
“I don’t know that name.”
“Daniel Reeves?”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
“I knew Thomas. He was young then. College age.”
“Ryan?”
She went quiet.
Too quiet.
“Mom.”
“I saw a photograph years later.”
“What photograph?”
“Your wedding announcement.”
My blood ran cold.
“And?”
“I recognized Ryan.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“From where?”
“Your father’s funeral.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I thought I was mistaken.”
“You let me marry him.”
“You were already married when I saw the announcement.”
“What?”
“You eloped, remember?”
Yes.
Ryan and I married at a courthouse.
My mother learned afterward.
“You never told me.”
“I wanted to. Then Sophie came. You were happy. I convinced myself it was coincidence.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“It wasn’t.”
“No.”
My mother began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at the wall.
Ryan had known who I was before we ever met.
Our first meeting at a coffee shop had not been chance.
Our relationship had not been chance.
Our marriage had not been chance.
Eleven years.
A decade-long plan.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Ryan.
NOW YOU KNOW WHY I MARRIED YOU.
I showed Holloway.
Another message appeared.
YOUR FATHER SHOULD HAVE SOLD WHEN HE HAD THE CHANCE.
My heart stopped.
Then one more.
COME TO WHERE HE DIED.
A hotel name followed.
The Cumberland Grand.
Downtown Nashville.
Closed for renovation six months ago.
I looked at Holloway.
“Back to the beginning.”
He understood.
“My father died there.”
A final photograph arrived.
Sophie was sitting on a hotel-room floor.
Lauren stood behind her.
And beside Lauren was Dr. Mercer.
Below the photograph were seven words.
May you like
ROOM 814.
THE SAME ROOM AS YOUR FATHER.
