Page 126 of Can You Take It?

“No,” she responds. “He’s gone off the grid. We’re working on it.”

“Damn it,” I mutter, hanging up the phone. I grip the steering wheel tighter.

Luna glances at me, worry etched on her face. “Where do you think Izel could be right now?”

I let out a heavy sigh, racking my brain for any possible leads. “If Izel’s headed anywhere, it’s probably to confront Victor. But finding her before he does…that’s the tricky part.”

“Do you think she has any safe places? Somewhere she’d go to regroup or think things through?”

I think back to our time together, trying to recall any mention of a place like that. “She never really talked about a place like that. She always seemed like she was running, never stopping long enough to have a safe haven.”

I feel a pang of regret as I remember how she’d once said she felt safe around me. At the time, it felt flattering, but now I realize how much she meant it. I was her fucking sanctuary, and I let her down. The thought makes me angrier at myself.

“Remember every small detail,” I urge her. Luna nods, and I can see her expression mirroring my intensity. I know she’s been through enough, and it is selfish of me to ask her to help me fix the mess I’ve created, but my options are painfully limited.

Luna hesitates before responding, “I don’t know where she was held captive, Rick. I don’t think she knew it either.” Frustration creeps into my expression. A dead end. But we can’t afford to give up.

Maybe Izel went home to Hollowbrook. It’s a long shot, but I have to try. We arrive in Hollowbrook, and I drive past the old Montclair estate, my gut telling me this place holds more secrets than we know.

“Think she might’ve come here?” I ask Luna, slowing the car as we near the mansion.

“It’s possible,” she replies. “It’s the only home she’s ever known, twisted as it is.”

I park the car a little down the road, out of sight. I ring the doorbell, and the chime echoes through the silent night. After what feels like an eternity, a woman in her sixties opens thedoor. She’s dressed in an old-fashioned housecoat, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“SSA Richard Reynolds, FBI,” I say, flashing my badge. “We’re looking for Izel Montclair.”

The woman’s face shifts from caution to confusion. “Izel? Oh, you mean Isla? She arrived about an hour ago. Please, come in.”

“Can we see her?” I ask, my patience hanging by a thread.

“Of course,” she says, stepping aside to let us in. She calls out, “Isla, dear! You have visitors!”

No response. My heart pounds in my chest as we step into the foyer.

“Where is your husband?”

“He’s in the backyard, playing golf,” she replies, pointing us towards the back of the house.

Luna and I exchange a look and head through the house. The place is a maze of antique furniture and family portraits. We reach the backyard, but it’s empty. No sign of Victor, and more importantly, no sign of Izel.

“Fuck,” I mutter, scanning the darkened yard. “Where the hell are they?”

Luna looks just as frustrated as I feel. “He’s gotta be around here somewhere. And so does she.”

I rack my brain, working to narrow down their possible locations. “They didn’t leave the property. Mrs. Montclair would have noticed if they did. So, they have to be in the house.”

“But where?” Luna asks. “This place is huge.”

I think back to what I know about Victor and the Montclair estate. “When your dad found Izel, was she on foot or did someone drop her off?”

Luna frowns, trying to remember. “I can’t recall. I’m not even sure if my dad ever mentioned that detail.”

“Think,” I urge. “It could give us a clue. Was there any mention of a car or anything like that?”

She shakes her head. “No, he never said anything about that. Just that she showed up at the station.”

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