Page 18 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“If Michael had left a trail, yes, but the boy didn’t wander through the woods and lock himself inside that bunker,” Eamon whispered. “I’ve been searching for their scents since we arrived on the property, but they aren’t here. The second the brothers got in that car, they vanished, and I can’t detect what never touched the ground.”

Bel cursed and paced down the hall before returning to Eamon’s side with tears in her eyes. “What do I do? Tell me what to do because I will not watch that boy die.”

“I can help.” He captured her biceps, forcing her to stop pacing. “You might not like it, though. It’s not legal.”

“I don’t care,” Bel practically snarled. “If it saves Michael, do it. I’m not a cop in this house. I have no badge, no authority, no protocol. Do whatever you have to.”

Eamon nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I have a contact,” he said as he dialed. “Every generation, I alignmyself with people of his talents since I reinvent myself every few decades. Documentation and digital footprints have become such an integral part of modern life, and this contact can do almost anything with a computer. He costs a fortune, but he’ll be able to track the feed’s signal and get us Michael’s location. I’ll need the laptop, though, and privacy. I doubt he’ll work with you in the vicinity.”

“So don’t tell him I’m a cop,” Bel argued, trying not to focus on the reality that Eamon Stone might not be his true identity.

“Detective, my contact has your records. He knows exactly who you are, and he’ll work faster if I deal with him privately… Hello, it’s Stone,” he said into the phone as he strode into the kitchen. “I have a job I need done right now… I don’t care. Charge me whatever.” Eamon captured the laptop and fled the room, leaving a confused Henry and Wendy in his wake, and Bel watched him disappear, wondering if his contact was how he’d gotten her number all those months ago. It should bother her that Eamon had illegally dug into her life, but instead, she grabbed Wendy’s hand, unable to care about anything other than the little boy who needed them.

They sat in silence for minutes that felt like days, and then Eamon rejoined their group. “He’s going to call me back, but he’s confident he can trace the signal,” he said. “I realize this is terrifying, but the livestream is a good thing. For the first time, we can track the boys.”

He rubbed Wendy’s back as he placed the laptop on the island counter, angling the screen so only Bel could see the terrified little boy. He understood Wendy couldn’t handle watching her brother, but he also knew Bel well enough to know that even though Michael couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t leave the child alone.

“How long will it take?” Henry asked.

“Not sure. My contact is good, but it all depends on how skilled The Tinker is,” Eamon said. “I’m praying explosives are his forte, not tech?—”

Bel’s phone rang, causing both her and Wendy to flinch, and she dug it out of her pocket to find Desmee’s number plastered across the screen. “Mr. Desmee,” she answered. “Please tell me you have something.”

“I do, but you won’t like it,” the Darling’s head of security said. “Are you with Wendy?”

“She’s here, yes,” Bel said. “Should I leave the room?”

“No, don’t.” Wendy caught Bel’s wrist. “Put him on speaker, please.”

“It’s fine, you can add her,” Desmee confirmed, and Bel set the phone on the table for everyone to hear. “So, I stopped by Peter Pann’s apartment. The property manager refused to let me inside at first, but when I showed him my credentials and verified who I worked for, he unlocked the unit. Pann’s place has been wiped clean.”

“Wiped clean?” Bel repeated.

“As if he never lived there.”

Bel and Eamon swore in unison.

“What did the property manager say?” Bel asked.

“Not much,” Desmee answered. “Pann paid the rent with cash, so there are no traceable checks. He kept to himself, and the manager wasn’t even aware he’d moved out. He vacated the residence seemingly overnight, and let me tell you, it’s clean. Too clean. He removed every hint of himself, and not just from that apartment. From the records as well. All of our paperwork on him has vanished. It’s as if he never worked for us. It’s like Peter Pann never existed.”

“He’s been planningthis all along,” Bel whispered as her brain worked to fit the puzzle pieces together. Why would a loyal family driver suddenly attempt to murder the Darlings in a violent display of theatrics? There was no doubt in Bel’s mind that Peter Pann was The Tinker, but his involvement didn’t make sense. Why had a ghost entered this family’s lives only to destroy them? He had made no demands, offered no explanations. In cases where money or revenge were the motive, the perpetrators usually revealed their reasonings. They demanded a ransom or highlighted the transgression that drove them to madness, but this? It was as if Pann woke up one morning and snapped, only he hadn’t. This crime had always been his endgame.

“I’m sorry, Miss Darling,” Desmee said into the phone, and Bel jerked, forgetting he was still on the line. “I hired Pann. I let him near your brothers, and now we have a madman on our hands, but I swear to you, he passed all our checks. There were no red flags.”

“Wendy, you’ve met Peter, right?” Bel asked, and the terrified woman nodded. “Did you recognize him from your past, even if only a little? Is it possible that he and your family have history? Because he’s been planning this. Pann’s been biding his time for years, waiting for the perfect moment, and if Eamon hadn’t triggered that IED, you would’ve eventually deciphered his clue. That blast would have killed you, so who wants you dead?”

“I never met him before Desmee hired him, and I don’t know who wants to kill my family. I swear!” Wendy’s eyes flicked to the laptop to check the flood’s level, but Bel turned the screen away from her. She needed the woman to focus, and seeing the water dancing around the boy’s toes would only paralyze her.

“Peter took this job with this sole outcome in mind,” Bel continued. “Either he hates you, or he’s the delivery method for someone else. I originally assumed this was about exposing or punishing you, but after that explosion, my theory changed. Someone is trying to kill this family in the most terrifying way possible. Think, Wendy. Who hates you this much?”

“I don’t know!” She seized Bel’s arms with iron fingers as if their connection could convince her. “I don’t care about myself anymore, so I would confess every one of my sins if it would help, but I’m not a villain. I am not evil or cruel or a thief. I am simply a girl who lost her parents and is desperately trying to keep what little family I have left. I’m in a committed relationship, so there are no jilted lovers. My company doesn’t make underhanded deals. We don’t embezzle. My father would roll over in the grave if I allowed that, so I’m telling you the truth when I say I don’t recognize that room.”

“If I can interrupt and add my opinion,” Desmee said over the speaker. “This might not be about Wendy’s sins. It might not be about her at all. The late Mr. Darling ensured that the company operated with integrity, but many consider this code of conduct detrimental to their wallets since Wendy follows his lead and refuses to take the lucrative route if it’s unethical. She vetoes shady deals and rejects corrupt partners just as her father did. This could be a horrendous case of another corporation trying to deal with Wendy’s opposition to their illegal activities.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Bel said, her mind suddenly racing with all the appalling leads she couldn’t follow without the police force to aid her. “Are there any companies you suspect?”

“I can’t recite them off the top of my head, but I’ll gather that info for you. You search for the boys, and I’ll dig through any rejected deals. Maybe one will lead us to Peter Pann’s real identity.”

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