Page 50 of Paternal Instincts
Silence.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll need verification. Did you say a McDonald’s Happy Meal?”
“Costa, I swear to god. I’m having a day from hell. Do not—”
“Never mind. I’m relaying the message verbatim.”
“Thank you. I gotta go.” I hung up, scanned the room, and took a deep breath as I mentally prepared myself for what needed to be done.
Chapter 13
Aslan
“AMcDonald’s Happy Meal?” I stared at Ruiz in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. He almost took my head off for trying to verify details.”
Between the cursing and the request for fast food, I was starting to worry about my husband. I snagged my phone and keys and was about to leave when Ruiz’s phone chimed with an incoming text.
I paused as he checked it.
“Fuck me. Look at this.” He showed me the series of images Quaid had sent, including a second note from our unsub.
“I better move my ass. If you’re preparing a warrant for FedEx, take it to Madison and tell her I sent you. She knows I’m helping Quaid and that time is a factor, so she won’t give you a hard time.”
“Keep me posted.”
I located the nearest McDonald’s, picked up Quaid’s unusual request, and jumped on the Don Valley Parkway, taking the fastest routeto the Davises’ residence. The vultures were out in droves, circling the house and taking up any available street parking.
I had no less than two cameras shoved in my face as I raced to the front door, reporters asking what I knew about a ransom note, and did I think the child’s life was in danger, and how close were we to an arrest? I ignored them and let myself into the house without knocking, finding my way to the living room.
Quaid and Jordyn were in quiet conversation. An elderly couple sat motionless on a couch, the woman worrying her hands. Quaid had made it seem like the world was ending, but all seemed calm and quiet.
“Hey,” I said, drawing their attention. “Someone wanted McDonald’s? I swear, if this is Ruiz’s idea of a sick joke, I will kill the bastard.”
The relief on Quaid’s face was unmistakable. “You’re here.”
“Thank god,” Jordyn said, blowing a thick chunk of bangs off her face.
I glanced around, again noting the couple on the couch who weren’t talking. “I thought you said it was anarchy around here.”
“It was.” Quaid removed the takeout bag from my hand and peeked inside. When his nose wrinkled, the world realigned. “Can you take this to Sparrow?” He offered the bag to Jordyn. “I’ll catch Aslan up.”
When Jordyn left, Quaid guided me around a corner into a hallway. Lowering his voice, he explained everything that had happened since returning to the house.
“Wow.”
“I told you. Imogen’s in bed resting. Her sister Odelia is watching over her. Flynn and Nixon are in the kitchen. The Davis grandparents are in the living room. The Walsh grandparents are in Nixon’s home office—far from the liquor cabinet because Ronald is already three sheets to the wind—and Jude is sitting pretty in the nursery, highlyirritated that he couldn’t stay with Nixon and Flynn. I’m not sure why he’s here, but I don’t like it.”
“Are you keeping them overnight? It’s after five.”
“I know, and no, I can’t do that. That’s unreasonable. I was hoping to unearth the cause for so much hate and hostility, but everyone is being super uncooperative, which is pissing me off.”
