“I agree. We need to at least rule it out.”
“Everything keeps circling back to that place. Ethan Wright, who we know is involved somehow . . . the flyer with the auction date,” she frowned, “I don’t know. I think they’re connected.”
Blake rubbed his chin. “Maybe. The guy did paint for the place. It has regular auctions or sales all the time, though. Could just be a coincidence. I mean, there’s nothing else that points to it being an auction house for girls.”
“True—although that Bryce dude was slimy. So where? If they send her and we don’t know where and we miss the window of rescue—”
“I know. I know. That’s what we have to find out.”
“But how?”
“I’m working on that part.”
Linc walked into the den and slumped into the chair next to Blake. “Well, we found our artist.”
Chloe sat up straight. “Where?”
“Brady just fished him out of Lake Murray.”
“What?” Chloe’s and Blake’s voices blended as one.
Blake dropped his chin to his chest. “Unbelievable.”
“They’re scared,” Linc said. “We’re putting pressure on someone. They knew Wright was the lead we were chasing and they got rid of him.”
“Great,” Blake said. “Just great.”
Chloe felt his pain. She closed her fingers around his and squeezed. Then turned to Linc. “And they didn’t find anything at his house?”
“That’s part of the update. They found a file cabinet in the home office. A search turned up some letters from Ethan to his mother when he was in a foster home. His mom had lost custody for neglect and he ended up in the system for a while. He eventually went back to his mother, but he wrote her a couple of letters, talking a little about the different people he was meeting, how he hated school, and how he wanted to go home. Typical teenage boy stuff. We ran all the names he mentioned in the letters and one raised a red flag.”
“Which one?” Chloe asked.
“A guy named Alan Garrett.”
“Who’s Alan Garrett?” Blake asked.
“He was a prisoner who was killed a couple of years ago by another inmate.”
Chloe tilted her head. “What was he in for?”
His eyes met hers. “Human trafficking. One of the victims identified him in a lineup.”
“Whoa.”
“Turns out, he was innocent, though. Three days after he was killed, the victim recanted and said she’d picked the wrong guy. Six months later, she was found in a back alley with her throat slit. We still don’t know who did it.”
Chloe gasped and Blake’s fingers tightened around hers.
“So, what’s Ethan’s connection to this guy?”
“From what I gathered from the letter, they shared a foster home and went to the same high school. I tried tracking down a couple of relatives of Ethan’s and all I could come up with was an uncle in Charleston who owns a company named All the Wright Exports. I gave him a call and he said he saw Ethan on a regular basis and was hoping to see him this weekend. I had to tell the man that wasn’t going to happen. He’s on his way to identify the body.”
Blake winced. “Ah man, that’s tough.”
Linc nodded. “He was pretty devastated. Apparently, after Ethan left the foster home to move back with his mother, things didn’t work out too well. This uncle stepped in and took him in his last year of high school. He said he saw the talent in Ethan and sent him to art school. We’re also looking into Alan Garrett’s family and background. I want to know who his parents are, if he has any siblings, friends, whoever. From there, we might be able to get a little bit more information on the connection between the two.”
“Back to the girl who accused Alan of trafficking her,” Blake said. “What about Ethan Wright? If he and Alan were friends or something, he might have killed her because of her faulty testimony against Alan.”
“I would be all over that except he has an airtight alibi.”
“What’s that?” Blake asked.
“He was in the hospital having his gall bladder removed at the time of her death.”
Chloe sighed and rubbed her temples. “This case is giving me a headache.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to run this by you. I’ve got Annie searching for more. And I think David’s volunteered to help her. Over dinner, if I’m not mistaken.” He smiled, then sighed. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”
“Thanks, Linc,” Chloe said.
Blake pressed his palms to his eyes. “I’m running out of time.” He dropped his hands and shot a look at Chloe. “It’s time to see if the judge is willing to play dead for a little while.”
“What are you talking about?” Linc asked.
They shared their idea with Linc, and by the time Blake finished spilling his plan, her brother was nodding. “That might work. If he’ll agree to it.”
“The fact that it might save Rachel’s life isn’t motivation enough?”
Linc raised a brow. “All we can do is ask.”
Blake picked up his phone.
“What are you doing?” Chloe asked.
“Letting the kidnappers know the judge is about to die.”
Linc frowned. “But he hasn’t agreed yet.”
“I’m not really interested in giving him a choice. We need to buy time. This is the way to do it. He’ll agree.”
Chloe met Linc’s gaze and could see the concern there. She knew he was thinking the same thing she was.
It was probably time for Blake to be pulled from having anything to do with the case.
When she looked back at him, his glare singed her, then jumped to Linc. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not going off the deep end. I just think this is the best plan for now.”
Chloe sighed. “Do you know how much paperwork this is going to require?”
“A lot,” Linc said.
“More than a lot,” she said. “How fast can it be done?”
“After we get the judge on board, hopefully, fast.”
Looked like they were going to find out.
Blake stood in the den of the judge’s home and tried to read the man’s expression. It was dark and it was late and everyone just wanted to get some sleep, but Blake was running out of time.
Ben finally walked to the fireplace and looked into the flames. The artfully arranged gas logs made a pretty picture. A direct contrast to the one Blake had just painted for the man. “They found your daughter and told you to kill me or they’ll kill her.”
“That’s the sum of it. Yes. But since killing you for real is not an option, I need for you to simply play dead for a few days. At least until we catch these people.”
“But you don’t know who these people are, do you?”
“No. Not entirely. We do have some good leads that give us hope that we’ll get this wrapped up soon.”
Chloe cleared her throat. “We do think it’s someone close to you. Someone who knows you well and is aware of your every move. So, if you agree to the plan, you’ll have to let everyone, including your wife, believe you’re dead.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Not Lucy. I can’t let her believe that. And my children? No, not them either. But everyone else, fine. I don’t like it, but . . . fine.”
Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sir, if your wife knows you’re alive, she’s not going to respond appropriately. People will know.”
“Then no. I won’t do it.”
A yell welled in Blake’s throat. With effort, he swallowed it.
“What about this,” Ben said. “What if Lucy knows the truth, but takes to her room and refuses to see anyone except the kids? Then she won’t have to put on an act and that’s probably what she would do anyway should I die.”
“Not the kids,” Blake said. “Please. My getting Rachel back hinges on everyone believing you’re dead.”
Ben’s gaze met his. “They’re not going to let her go,” he said softly.
“I have to believe—and act—like they will. Not in the hopes that they’ll really release her, but with the intent of buying time so I can find her.”
The man nodded. “I understand that. All right. For Rachel. But only for a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” Blake whispered.
The front door opened. “Mom? Dad?”