Page 45 of Hold Me Before You Go

All except for me.

With that, he left the room, and I followed.

Hayes met us outside the cell door, Dominic already inside.

“Humbly didn’t have any updates for us, and no updates from any of his police contacts up and down the coast,” my right hand informed me.

“She’s not going to be on the coast,” I said, finally coming to that conclusion. I’d been sitting on it for the last twelve hours. The coast was filled with tourists, despite it being the end of winter. It was one of the scenic hot spots on this side of the country. A man and a woman in a van with a woman tied up in the back would have been noticed by now.

“They took her inland,” Ash said from beside me.

“More places to hide,” Hayes agreed. “I’ll call him back after this and ask about his other contacts.”

I doubt Humbly would be able to help us. Lark and Brandon Hale had taken Carrie out of state. There was no telling where they were. We had constant eyes on Brandon’s warehouse in Jersey, and if they arrived there, we’d be there. However, I didn’t think they would.

If Lark's intention was to kill Carrie, then they wouldn’t transfer her across the country to do so. That would take too much time, effort, and money.

I jerked my chin to Hayes and then the door opened, horror-filled screams flooding the hallway. It didn’t phase us; we’d heard our fair share of torture in the past. My eyes landed on Carrie’s father-in-law, and a cruel smile formed on my face. His face was covered in sweat, his shirt ripped open, revealing white chest hair and weathered skin. Blood was trickling from various abrasions on his chest and stomach. His hands were tied to the tops of the armrests, and a blade stuck out of his left one, Dominic standing on that side.

“Mr. Hale,” I greeted. “Welcome to hell. My name is Grayson, and you’re going to answer some questions for me.”

Chapter Eleven

Carrie

I wasn’t going to die here, in this shitty motel room, surrounded by these two. I stared into the barrel of Brandon’s gun and lifted my chin.

“No one in St. Louis knew about my trust fund,” I told him, holding my breath.

Brandon’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?” The gun in front of my face lowered a fraction.

“Not the Oasis boys, Robert, or the detective assigned to Robert’s murder case,” I explained, twisting my wrists. “No one knew but my father, and he thought I’d spent it all.”

He looked back to Monica for a moment before looking back to me, lowering the gun. “How much do you have?”

“Two million,” I lied instantly. Ihadtwo million, but that was before I’d bought Blue Beauty.

A sinister smile found its way to Brandon’s lips then before he let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money, Carrie,” he said proudly.

I said nothing, working my hands still.I was almost there.

“Jesus, would you just get on with it?” Monica barked out, getting up from the bed.

My eyes flicked over to her as she put my coat back on. Brandon ignored her. “You’re going to give me that money, Carrie.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want if you let me go,” I told him, leaning forward so I could adjust my wrists and the angle.

Brandon chuckled. “Can’t do that, Carrie. You’re talking to a dead man, remember?”

My brows came together. A dead man? When I said nothing, Brandon, being the self-absorbed idiot he was, decided to monologue. I also didn’t like that he kept saying my name over and over. Thoughts of the last motel room started bubbling up to the surface, but I shut them down quickly.

That was a different category of nightmares I never wanted to analyze.

“I can’t believe Robert never told you about me. Did he at least tell you about our sister?” he prompted, raising his brows. The gun was at his side, and for now, at least, I could breathe easier.

“Robert told me he was an only child,” I confessed. It was the truth. I’d met his parents and got to know them on a superficial level over the years. We never spent the holidays together, andon Robert’s birthday, he would go celebrate with them on his own, telling me they would be disgusted by my appearance.

Monica huffed, shaking her head before looking up at the dated popcorn ceiling. “He didn’t tell her about anything—because he never loved her,” she quipped, as if that was going to hurt me in some way. However, I didn’t have any sympathy for her. Whatever moment we’d shared at the last motel was nothing more than a fleeting mistake.

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