We decide to start with the woods closest to where Veronica’s car was found. We know we’ll have to walk a ways since they wouldn’t need a car at all if the spot where they were holding her was nearby. The woods are too dense for a car to get through. We keep walking further out. Dad brought a police dog along, a German shepherd named Harry. He’s trained more for finding drugs than people, but since Catton is obviously drugging Veronica, Harry might be the perfect dog for the job.
“There are some puddles up ahead here,” Mitchell says off to my right. “The trees open up a bit. More sunlight is getting through.”
Dad, Harry, and I race over, but the area feels foreign to me. I’d know if it was the place I saw in my vision. Harry is strictly here for sniffing out a trail I haven’t seen or finding Veronica once I do locate the place in the woods from my vision. In a way, I’m just another search dog.
We look for hours, until we run out of daylight. Finally, I give up. “Let’s call it quits,” I yell to them. “Harry’s getting hungry, and frankly so am I.” I can’t keep going like this when I can tell we aren’t even close.
“Want to check the next area on my list?” Mitchell asks. He looks up at the lowering sun in the sky. “We could grab a bite and some flashlights and head back out.”
Dad pats Harry on the head. “I’ve got to get him back. Let’s reconvene in the morning. Six good for both of you?”
Mitchell and I nod, and we start the long trek back to the road. By the time we reach the car, we all have our phones out and are using the flashlight features on them. Harry rides shotgun, making Mitchell and I burst out laughing. We need a little comic relief right now, so I’m still smiling as we climb into the back of Dad’s car.
“Hey.” Mitchell nudges my leg. “You’re doing great. This is a tough case, but I know we’ll crack it.”
“Before the deadline on the ransom note?” I ask, spinning the plain silver band I wear on my left pinky. The kidnapper said the money had to be in the PO box by Saturday. That leaves us with tomorrow to find Veronica.
“Catton must know that the cops are going to be surrounding that post office on Saturday,” Mitchell says.
“Exactly. He’s too smart not to know that. Which means he’s either going to pull some stunt, using Veronica as a human shield to get out of there, or he’s going to make contact again and make sure Victor doesn’t tell us about it.”
“You think he sent the first ransom note to throw us off?” Mitchell eyes Dad in the front seat. He’s busy petting Harry, who keeps licking the side of Dad’s face.
“Only one way to know. I need to pay Victor Castell a little visit.” I glance at the clock on my phone. “It’s only eight thirty. Care to take a little drive with me after we drop off Dad and Harry?”
“You’re on.” Mitchell lowers his voice even though Dad has the radio on. “Can I ask why you want to go without your father?”
“He’s tired. I can see it in his eyes. Plus, Dad likes to do everything by the book.”
“And you’re not planning to?” The mischievous look in Mitchell’s eyes most likely matches my own.
“Not so much.”
“Damn, Piper, you may cost me my badge after all.”
I laugh and quickly cover my mouth to keep from drawing Dad’s attention. “Only if you’re dumb enough to get caught.”
The look on his face is nothing short of Challenge accepted.
Twenty minutes later, Dad and Harry are back at the station and Mitchell and I are on our way to the Castells’ house. I don’t call to let them know we’re coming—something Dad would have insisted upon. I want to catch them off guard. I want to see what it is they’re hiding. I’ve already figured out Victor’s feelings for his daughter aren’t greater than his love of his money. If he was so good at hiding that, he could definitely be hiding more, including another ransom note.
There are exactly two lights on in the Castell house when we pull up the driveway. One in the downstairs room near the garage, and the other an upstairs bedroom in the middle of the house. I’m willing to bet that’s the master bedroom, and most likely Darla Castell is occupying it at the moment. If I had to guess, I’d say the downstairs room is a study or office of some nature, and Victor Castell is inside.
“Do we ring the bell?” Mitchell asks. “Or are you going to pull out a Cat Woman suit and scale the side of the house so you can climb in through one of the three balconies? Because if that’s the route we’re going, you should have told me to wear different shoes.”
“Fine, we’ll do it the civilian way. You’re no fun at all, though. I’m not even sure I can return the Cat Woman costume.”
He bumps his shoulder against mine and rings the bell.
I allow myself the whole twenty seconds it takes Victor Castell to answer the door to reflect on how nice it is to talk to someone on a human level. Someone other than my parents and Marcia.
Victor pulls the door open, adjusting a pair of reading glasses on his nose. “Detectives?” He consults his diamond-encrusted watch. “Did we have an appointment?”
Mitchell’s quick sideways glance in my direction leads me to believe he’s willing to go along with the lie, but I don’t think we’ll get anywhere that way.
“No, Mr. Castell. Detective Brennan and I stopped by because we have some information about your daughter’s case and we assumed you’d want to be kept up-to-date.”
Victor nods. “Of course. I was just in my study going over my bank statement. Please, come in.” He steps aside, allowing us to pass.
“Your bank statement?” I ask him, stopping in the foyer as he closes the door. “Are you preparing to pay the ransom fee in exchange for your daughter? I was under the impression you froze all your bank accounts.”
Victor laces his fingers in front of him. “Not all of my accounts. Don’t take this the wrong way, Detectives, but the Saturday deadline is fast approaching. Unless you are here to tell me you know where my daughter is being held and you have dispatched a team to bring her home...” He lets the rest of the sentence trail off.
“So, you’re convinced we’ll fail.” Mitchell crosses his arms, his pectoral muscles flexed. He’s clearly trying to intimidate the slender Victor Castell, but the truth is, Victor is right. He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand.
“Mr. Castell, you said you were in your study?”
He dips his head forward once, which I take as affirmation.
“May we talk there?”
His brow furrows. “Why?”
“Because I believe you aren’t being completely honest with us. I think the ransom note you turned over to the police department isn’t the only communication you’ve had with the kidnapper. Is that true?” I don’t cross my arms like Mitchell. I let my words take Victor down a notch.
He swallows hard, and his adam’s apple bobs. “I...” He shakes his head, like he can’t bear to continue.
I look at Mitchell, trying to silently communicate what I’m about to do. I’ll need him to have my back since I have no way of knowing what I’m about to see. I step forward and place my right hand on Victor’s arm, just above his elbow in a reassuring way. “I promise we—”
“You can’t bring that to the police! You’ll get her killed,” Darla Castell yells.
Victor looks up at her from his desk in the study. “You expect me to transfer the money, no questions asked? What was the point of enlisting the WPD’s help if we’re simply going to meet the kidnapper’s demands?”
Darla walks around the mahogany desk to her husband’s side. “Simple. We didn’t know if she was kidnapped or if she simply took off in a fit again. But now we know. We have no choice. Do you want your daughter to die after all we’ve...?” She turns away from him and walks over to the bookshelf that lines the far wall.
“Then we’ll keep this a secret. If the police don’t find her by Thursday night, I’ll prepare the funds for transfer.”
Darla nods but doesn’t turn around. “If only you hadn’t asked her to come home this weekend. She’d be at school. Safe.”
“You blame me?” The pen slips from Victor’s hand.
Darla turns around, her steely gaze falling on her husband. “You don’t?”
“How was I to know something like this would happen? Veronica has come home every year on my birthday.”
“Only she didn’t want to this year.” Darla moves toward Victor. “You insisted. Whatever’s happened is on your head.”
My hand is ripped free of Victor’s arm, and Mitchell immediately pulls me behind him. Does he think Victor will do something to retaliate after my intrusion of his private memories?
“What did you just do?” Victor’s eyes are cold and full of hate as he rubs his arm where I just touched him.
“Piper?” Mitchell asks, still shielding me.
“It’s fine.” I step out from behind Mitchell. “Mr. Castell, I’m sorry, but you hired me to find your daughter and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“My husband hired the WPD, not you, Ms. Ashwell.” Darla’s voice couldn’t be filled with more hatred as she descends the staircase in the front hall.
“The WPD hired Ms. Ashwell,” Mitchell offers in my defense.
I hold my hands up in front of me to put an end to the conversation. “Are you people serious? Do you want to find your daughter or not?” My eyes flit back and forth between Victor and Darla, landing on Darla. “You blame him for Veronica’s disappearance, don’t you? You think it’s his fault since he asked her to come home. You’re the reason he hid the second ransom note.”
“The second one?” Mitchell asks.
“Yes,” Victor says. “We received two communications.”
“Can we see the second one?” Mitchell asks, adding, “Please.”
Victor and Darla exchange a look, one I can’t interpret without coming into physical contact with one of them. “This way.” He holds his hand out. “My study is this way.”
I go first with Mitchell staying directly behind me. The study is large, more like a school library than a room in someone’s house. I go directly to the desk I saw in my vision. My eyes falling on the laptop in the center. A bankbook sits next to it. Do people still use those?
Darla walks over and flips the book closed before I can read any numbers. “All you need to see is the message we received.” She picks up a paper and holds it out to me. I can’t help noticing she’s being careful not to touch me. She must have witnessed me reading her husband and doesn’t want to fall victim to my abilities the way he did.
The paper is a printout of an email, which means I can’t use my ability to get a read off of it. However, it does give instructions for transferring the money into a bank account, so we can use that information. I know it’s a long shot, but I ask, “Would you mind us taking a look at your email itself.”
“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” Darla says. “This is all we’ve gotten. And I see no reason why you need to snoop into our personal business.”
At the mention of business, I double-check the email address the note was sent to. “Mr. Castell, the kidnapper sent this to your personal email, not a work email address.”
“Yes.” He gives me a quizzical look.
“Well,” Mitchell says, “if the kidnapper was after your money and knew of your business dealings, they’d more likely send the email to a business address.”
“How would they get your personal address? That’s the real question Detective Brennan is asking.” I address Victor, but it’s Darla who answers me.
“You think this person knows us?”
“Mrs. Castell, we believe your daughter’s...” What do I call Will? Boyfriend doesn’t seem right. I settle on “Friend, William Catton got into an argument with her on Friday night and may have come here on Saturday to bring her back to school.”
“Why wouldn’t she just tell us?” Victor asks.
Darla sits down at Victor’s desk, a forlorn expression washing over her features. “I warned her to stay away from that boy.”
“You know him?” I ask, moving toward her.
She nods. “Veronica told me about him. He’s a nasty boy. Truly disrespectful.”
“Do you know he drugged your daughter the night they met?” I ask.
“No!” Victor practically yells. “Veronica would have told us if something like that had happened.”
Would she? The Castells have been trying to keep their daughter’s disappearance out of the media. My instinct tells me they’d cover up any mess she got into with a fraternity boy as well. “Perhaps she didn’t think she could come to you about it.”
“What are you implying?” Victor moves toward me, but Mitchell holds up a hand to stop him.
“We are just asking questions in the hopes of finding answers,” Mitchell tells him.
“Actually...” Darla stands up again and faces the bookshelf, most likely so she doesn’t have to look at her husband. “Veronica did come to me.”
Victor tries to step forward, but Mitchell’s still at the ready and motions for him to let his wife speak.
“She said she drank too much at a party. She’s underage. I couldn’t let her go to the authorities. They’d do a full drug test. Besides, she knew what Will had done.” Darla turns around. “I offered him money, thinking that’s what he was after.”
“Money for what?” I ask. “The video he made of your daughter?”
“Video?” Victor’s face turns red. “Video of what?”
Darla looks to me, and I don’t know if she isn’t privy to all the details or if she doesn’t have the courage to tell her husband.
“Apparently, Veronica put on a show for the fraternity. Will wanted her to ‘entertain’”—I pause to make air quotes—“some rushees last weekend. That’s what they fought about.”
“And you think he came here and forced her to go back to school with him?”
“I think that was the plan, but she refused.”
“So he took her by force,” Mitchell finishes for me. “Only, he didn’t return to school because there was an accident and Veronica was injured.” He fills them in on the incident at the stables.
“So where did he bring her?” Darla asks.
“That’s the question,” I say. “We initially thought he must be nearby if he wants us to bring the money to the local post office.” I hold up the printed email. “But this email with the change of plans means he could be anywhere.”
“What do we do?” Darla asks. “Should Victor email him back? Try to get him to agree to the original location of the drop off?”
It’s clear the post office was a sham to keep the WPD busy. Will would never agree to that. “No. But we do need you to get him talking.”
“I need to lie down,” Darla says. “This is all too much.” She starts for the door. “Victor, you’ll take care of this?”
He nods and watches her leave the room. “What’s our next move?”
“May I?” I motion to his computer.
He walks over to the laptop and brings up his email. “There.” On the screen he has the email from Will. “That’s the only communication I’ve gotten electronically.”
I’d love for him to step away so I can confirm that by scanning his inbox and deleted files, but he watches me like a hawk. I click reply on the email and motion for Mitchell to join me on this side of the desk. My fingers hover over the keys as I contemplate my response.
I can’t get my bank to transfer that much money at once. Given the nature of my business, I have taken certain precautions and set limitations on the amount that can be withdrawn or transferred at one time. I can transfer a third of the amount and bring the rest to you in person in exchange for my daughter. I don’t care who you are. I just want my daughter returned. No police. Just me, you, and Veronica. Name the time and place.
There’s a major flaw with my plan, and Catton should be smart enough to see it. If there are limits to how much can be withdrawn, Victor Castell wouldn’t be able to make the deadline regardless of the method of delivery. My hope is that he’s panicked and either won’t figure that out, or he’ll offer an extension for the rest of the money, buying us time to find him.
Mitchell reads over my shoulder, and I know he’s picked up on my plan. Instead of nodding or verbalizing his approval, he simply presses send.
I’m surprised when an answer comes almost immediately.
Wire a third of the money now and another third tomorrow. I’ll accept the final payment on Saturday. No in-person meeting. Once I’m paid in full, I’ll email you instructions for how you can find Veronica.
Mitchell slams an open palm against the desk, which makes Victor jump. “What is it?” Victor asks.
“Just hang on.” I press reply.
My bank won’t permit three transfers in three days. I need more time.
I press send and wait, tapping my fingers on the desk and refreshing the email inbox every few seconds. I take the time to scan the other emails, but there’s not much. Victor keeps a tidy inbox. Other than an invite to the opening of a new country club and a notification that his phone bill is ready for viewing and payment, his inbox is empty.
“What’s taking him so long to respond this time?” Mitchell asks, worry lines deepening in his forehead.
“Maybe he’s trying to figure out his next move. Bank policies are stymieing his plans.”
A new message appears in the inbox, and I immediately click on it. Mitchell and Victor huddle around the screen to read it along with me.
Each day I don’t get a third of the money, Veronica loses an appendage. I’m guessing she’ll bleed out long before anyone discovers her body.