Page 104 of Descent

“What do they want? Do we know?”

I shake my head. “Besides the obvious, her?”

“Who have you eliminated as a suspect?”

“Well, that’s kind of why I’m here. I didn’t know if…”

For a moment, I pause, forcing him to stop mid-step. His head swings over to me, eyes looking me over.

“You wanted to know if I was stalking your wife?”

I don’t respond, but I don’t have to. So instead I wait, I watch, and I save it all for later.

An amused chuckle rips through him as he shakes his head.

“Little boy, if I wanted your wife, I’d take her. I wouldn’t waste my time with games.”

That’s more on par with the man I know, but still…I can’t help but be suspicious.

“She got a letter this morning, addressing her as Giselle.”

His eyes narrow at that, amused smile nowhere in sight.

“Where is the letter?”

“Back at the house. Why—”

“What did it say?”

“Uh, fuck. I don’t know. I don’t have it memorized. Basically something about how she doesn’t have to worry, that he will come for her soon.”

My father frowns, his mind racing as he nods.

“Keep me apprised of this situation. I assume you’re setting up a watch for her?”

I nod.

“Good,” he says, as he sits down and dials his phone, avoiding eye contact and thus silently dismissing me.

As I walk down the front steps to my car, I replay it all in my mind. His reactions, his words, his body language shifts. It all rings true for someone who was surprised, but my father is the master manipulator. He’s such a compulsive narcissist. I have no doubt that he believes his own lies.

The fact that he knows Liam and I share her is…concerning. I mean, I suppose not since he seemed in full support of it. Only because he assumes it’s to use her for our pleasure, not because we love her and want her happy. Also, never mind the calculated eliminator and my uncle, that are also in this happy little family. Yeah, that wouldn’t go over as well.

Looks like we need to do a little research and see who else was close to Giselle Thompson.

Chapter Forty Two

Skyla

Wesley has his laptop open on the kitchen island, a pinched look on his face while I sit on my phone. It rings and rings, but Steph doesn’t answer. Instead, it goes to voicemail.

“Steph, hey, it’s me,” I say, not even trying to hide the shake in my voice as I re-read the letter for the twentieth time. “Can you call me back? I need to talk to you, about mom and other…stuff. Please call me back as soon as possible.”

I hang up the phone as Wesley speaks, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Don’t you think you’re going to worry her with a voicemail like that?”

“Shouldn’t she be? Shouldn’t I be?” I ask.

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