Page 81 of To Have and to Hold

“Jack has always been hard to get to know, but you’re aware of that.”

Knox didn’t bother to play dumb. “What’d you get from him?”

“He’s been hiding a past that we’d never’ve figured out.” The idea of that, of failing to discover this kind of connection, had the centipede writhing. “Jack and Dex Abrams have been harboring a secret for decades.”

“Wait—District Attorney Dex Abrams?”

“A girl died while with Abrams and Jack helped him cover it up.”

Knox’s brows rose at the news, but he lowered them with a grimace. “You think Emme’s abduction is related? Is that where you’re going with this?”

“A few months ago, Jack broke down to his wife, told her everything. And he called Abrams and confessed that he needed to go to the police and couldn’t live with the lie anymore. This is career-ending shit, Knox. And it held enough risk that Abrams would be willing to do something about it, don’t you think?”

“Like kidnap Jack’s daughter and instead of contacting Jack directly, he contacts you?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“And holds her for an indeterminate amount of time, with no demands, as well as abducts Emme publicly enough that police are instantly on the scene.”

“Yep.”

“And decides to carve out time in his busy schedule to have a chat with Emme’s ex-fiancé and not her current fiancé, and all while running an office and making public appearances and seeing you often, he’s storing a high-profile kidnap victim in his basement.”

My mouth flatlined. “You don’t believe me.”

“I think I’d give it more credit if you mentioned Max Torro or his crime family.”

I gnawed on my cheek while glaring at him, wondering if this was the time to mention my second theory involving Uncle Manny.

Knox relented. “Spence, it’s not that I don’t think you’ve found something crucial here—clearly you have. But how can it possibly relate to Emme’s situation?” Knox indicated the charred front door of the building beside us. “Look at where we are.”

“This could be a diversion. Some kind of setup. Emme was probably never here.” A terrible thought popped into existence. “Abrams is smart enough to concoct this kind of tactic.”

“How in the hell can you put Ed Carver and District Attorney Dex Abrams together?” Knox asked.

“I’m not…I can’t get there yet.” I paced a few steps, then came back to Knox. “But it’s perfect. We’re over here, scrambling to control a fire and make sense of this situation, when meanwhile Abrams is able to transfer Emme somewhere else, or worse. He has the opportunity to kill her.”

“Listen to yourself, buddy.”

“You think I’m not aware of how crazy I sound? I’ve been going nuts with all kinds of scenerios since this started! Nothing makes sense! Why she was taken, why I can’t give enough of myself to find her because I lost two and a half years of knowing who she’s become—”

Knox reached out. “Spence, sit down.”

“Why her fiancé doesn’t know who the fuck she is or who in their lives would take her, when you know what? I would’ve.” I pounded a fist into my chest. “If we’d stayed together, I’d know how she’s doing, what her favorite new restaurant is, who is bothering her at work, what her friends are up to. I would’ve asked her how her day went. Every day. And listened to her response. He went every morning without seeing her even though she laid next to him—that guy had the chance to learn more about her every second that ticked by but he fucking squashed it. And for what? At the one moment where knowing everything about the woman he supposedly loves is crucial—her life is on the line—he’s useless.”

Knox hesitated before saying, “Are we talking about Dave, or about you?”

The noise of the surrounding chaos beat around us, and Knox didn’t add to it with more questions. He regarded me silently, and that stare had weight. I said, more calmly, “Maybe my assumptions don’t completely add up, but you’ve got to give me the credit of thinking about them. We’re involved in a case that doesn’t line up regardless of what line of evidence we pursue.”

“Which is why we came here,” Knox said. “And got blown up.”

“This is some kind of setup, Knox. Or coincidence. I can’t explain it but my gut is saying we have to look into Abrams’s—”

“Goddamn it. Do you really think Ed rigged a bomb for the next Jehovah’s Witness passing by, or is it more likely he knew police were going to come to his door because he locked a girl in his crawl space?”

“Crawl space?” I rocked back, then asked, very carefully, “why are you mentioning something so specific? Why not basement?”

Knox palmed his face, then pulled back, cursing, “Ah, fuck.”

“What are you holding back?”

He replied, without looking at me, “Please don’t storm into the brownstone, it hasn’t been cleared for safety yet and we’re still scoping the place for evidence.”

“Knox,” I warned.

Knox raised his head. “They found a body inside.”

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