Page 106 of Wanted

Somehow I manage to finish reading those words without my heart stopping. The message is accompanied by a photo of my wife with a gun pointed at her head, her eyes closed, and I can see thick tears running down her cheeks.

I turn around on the first U-turn I find, my heart beating fast. Over and over I call Sanders, getting no answer. Shit, this is not looking good.

Jackson answers on the first ring. “He has Stella,” I tell him without greeting him.

“Fuck, are you sure?” No, I’m playing, asshole.

“I wouldn’t joke about something so important, I just received a text with a very disturbing photo.”

I hear him sigh on the other end of the line before speaking again. “Mark and I are on our way. I know it’s asking a lot of you, but you have to calm down, Lionel. Help is on the way and we’ll get Stella back sooner than you know. Charlie is going to get some things moving with the Feds while we fly.”

Those words sound so empty, as if said in another reality, to someone else.

“See you.” I finish the call as I push my foot on the pedal, I need to get to Carrollton as soon as possible.

When I get to town, the first thing I do is go to the house we bought. I run in, and what I find there isn’t very encouraging. The entrance guard is lying on the ground with a syringe stuck in his neck. Whoever has Stella isn’t afraid and is desperate—which is a bad combination.

Sanders is lying on the ground facedown, the wound on his head has stopped bleeding. I check his neck for a pulse, he’s unconscious, but not dead. Thank God.

“Mr. Kral, come see this,” Davis calls me, who usually accompanies me on my trips to Louisville. On one of the kitchen walls, taped to the wall with a bloody knife is a note.

Your life for hers.

Every minute counts.

Not only for hers, but for our baby’s life.

Every minute counts, and I’m standing here doing nothing.

Where are you? Baby, where are you?

“Davis, let’s go to Stella’s house, now!”

But it’s in vain, the place is empty, still it might offer some clues. Something that tells me in which direction to move.

Fuck, this is maddening.

The house is quiet. Today Lorraine and Felicia are taking care of the hive, so I’m only greeted by the dozens of molds carefully arranged in a drying rack.

I search the drawers for a clue, for something.

There must be some indication, no matter how small.

In the bedroom, I open the dresser’s first drawer and find the legal pad on which Stella made notes at what seems like centuries ago.

I read it carefully, point by point.

Lionel wanted to save up to buy the old winery.

I grab my phone from the pocket of my jeans and search for wineries for sale in the area. There are two locations, one right here in Carrollton and one in Madison, Indiana, across the river. Somehow I know where to go.

Going alone is dangerous, but my feet are moving before I can think twice.

“Where are we going?” Davis asks when we’re back in the SUV.

“To get my wife back, I know where she is.”

“I have a gun,” he says. “And in the trunk, there are two rifles and a few other things, but if they’re a medium-sized contingent, we won’t be able to manage on our own, and we’ll be putting Mrs. Kral’s safety in jeopardy.”

---