The living area was still buzzing with activity, but now there were even more people here. The uniform of the day seemed to be a navy blue jacket, “FBI” in big, bold letters on the back. Some agents snapped photos of every square inch of the house. Others hovered over a large table in the dining area, staring at a map. Alexander’s eyes zeroed in on Martin standing in the corner, his arms wrapped around his mother, offering comfort.
Heat rose in his body at the duplicity of it all. There he was, acting as if he were truly upset by Melanie’s disappearance, when all the evidence pointed to him being the one responsible for it. Alexander’s heart pounded when he saw him place a reassuring kiss on the top of his mother’s platinum hair. All he could think was how he had been duped…how they all had. He put his trust in him, like his father had, but when Martin realized he’d never run the company, he decided to hit him where it hurt…by taking his daughter, then probably demanding a hefty ransom.
Alexander strolled casually toward the fireplace, all the stockings hung by the chimney with care. His eyes caught Melanie’s name on her stocking just to the left of where the man he had trusted with his life stood, acting as if nothing were wrong. Rage filled him. His vision became cloudy, his throat grew dry, his heart pounded in his ears.
“Mr. Burnham, sir,” Martin said, noticing him enter the living area. He stepped toward Alexander. “Is everything all right?”
Alexander snapped at the fake worry etched on his face. Martin had him fooled. He had them all fooled. Reeling back, he delivered a powerful left hook to Martin’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Alexander vaguely heard his mother screaming at him that he’d lost his mind, but he ignored her. His head was a complete haze. He’d reverted back to his training. Shoot first, ask questions later.
“Where is she?” he demanded, his eyes wild, vicious, untamed.
“Where is who?” Martin responded, holding his jaw, caught off guard.
Alexander pressed his shoe against Martin’s throat, getting a twisted satisfaction out of watching him struggle for air as he grasped his leg. His face turned a shade of purple and red as he fought for every breath. Officers and other law enforcement officials attempted to disengage Alexander, but he remained steadfast. Their interrogation methods would be completely inept against someone like Martin, who had been trained to withstand some of the worst situations imaginable and still not disclose any information. He would keep them running around in circles, chasing down every false lead, while Melanie remained lost. Alexander couldn’t let that happen.
“Melanie!” he roared through the lump in his throat. Every inch of him ached from not seeing it all sooner. “Your code and thumbprint were logged in when you came here last night! You tried to erase your tracks, but you failed to realize that nothing online is ever truly erased. Where…is…she?”
His chest heaved as he stared into Martin’s frightened and confused dark eyes, looking for a sign that proved he betrayed him, as all the evidence led him to believe. He was torn between wanting to do permanent damage to Martin for destroying his family and wanting to stop the pain he was causing him. Something about this didn’t seem right.
“Why would I take her?” Martin strained with labored breaths, his voice barely audible. “I’ve treated her like I would my own granddaughter. Do you think I haven’t been affected by her disappearance? Because I have, Alex. All morning long, all I’ve thought was that I could have done something to prevent this from happening. The pain you’re feeling, that Olivia’s feeling, that your mother’s feeling…” Martin gasped as Alexander let up the pressure against his throat slightly, still keeping him trapped to the floor. “I feel it, too.”
Alexander didn’t know what to think, what to believe, his emotions at war with his rationale. He knew Martin. Hell, he was a better father figure to him than his own father was. Martin had put his life on the line countless times to save Alexander. If he truly wanted to take over the company, why would he have done that? Still, Alexander couldn’t ignore the hard evidence — the entry code, the thumbprint, the manipulation of the records.
In a swift move, he grabbed Martin by the throat, picked him up, and pinned him against the wall, pulling his gun from his holster and holding it against the man’s head.
“Don’t give me that sob story,” he ground out. “You were pissed when I came back and took over my father’s company, the company he had pretty much groomed you to run. You must have been planning this for months, maybe even years. Wait until I was distracted, take Melanie, cover your tracks, then demand a hefty ransom in exchange for her safe return, all because you felt cheated out of my father’s company. I never thought you’d be capable of such deceitfulness and spite, but I guess I was wrong about you.”
“Alex!” a stern voice yelled.
Alexander snapped out of his hate-filled trance and looked at his mother, her dark eyes begging him to be reasonable. But all reason had left him the minute he walked into Melanie’s empty bedroom. He needed answers, and he didn’t care what he had to do to get them, including actions of questionable legality.
“I was nowhere near here last night!” Martin explained. “You can waste all the time you want blaming me, but it won’t bring Melanie back.”
“Then where were you?!” He pressed his gun harder against Martin’s head, completely ignoring the officers who now had their weapons pointed at him. They could threaten to shoot him all they wanted. He wasn’t going to let up until he had answers.
Opening his mouth to respond, Martin scanned the room and hesitated, as if he were trying to figure out his story.
“Tell me!” Alexander bellowed, imploring him to come forward with an alibi. This man had stood by his side through everything. He had lost his daughter this morning. He didn’t know if he could handle losing Martin, too.
Martin swallowed hard, uncertainty in his gaze. Alexander pinched his lips together, his breathing labored, the gun in his hand like a ticking time bomb. His nostrils flaring, he begged, “Please, tell me.”
“He was with me!” Alexander’s mother, Colleen, answered, catching him off guard.
He shot his eyes to her as she approached them, her murderous expression making him feel like a four-year-old little boy instead of the forty-year-old man he was. Mothers had a habit of doing that. He could face some of the most vile and dangerous men who walked the earth, but put him in an interrogation room with his mother and she’d have him singing like a canary in a coal mine in a matter of seconds.
“Ma?” Struggling to hide his confusion, Alexander focused on his mother’s eyes as she placed her hands on his biceps, trying to placate him.
“Martin was with me from around eleven last night to just after seven this morning.”
Alexander’s lips parted as he looked from his mother to Martin, then back at his mom again. He stepped back, lowering his pistol.
“What was he doing with you last night?”