SEBASTIAN DIDN’T REALIZE they had arrived at the Wellness Center until Faye asked, rather timidly, “Where would you like me to park? Out front or in the garage?”
“Garage,” he replied distantly, his attention locked on his phone, on what had consumed him during the entire drive here: a photograph of Grace published on a web page for the Los Angeles Times, a story headlined BLOOD WORLD CLAIMS YET ANOTHER VICTIM.
What had seemed like a routine kidnapping, complete with a ransom demand, was actually Paul’s way of getting a message to him.
And now my daughter’s life is on the line.
But how had Paul known about Grace? About Ava? Paul must have followed me one of the times I went to Ava’s house and . . . watched her. That was the only logical explanation. And how had Paul known Grace was a carrier? Or was it just a sick coincidence? Knowing Paul had Grace made him want to—
No, he told himself. Don’t think about that. Stay focused.
Grace looked so much like her mother. Same beautiful black hair and angular face and fierce “Don’t hand me your bullshit” eyes. Only Grace’s eyes were blue, not brown, and the color stood out against her light brown skin, not a blemish anywhere. And, Sebastian was willing to bet, she was smart, like Ava, and determined.
Hang on, Sebastian thought, eyeing Grace’s smiling face. Find a way to hang on until I bring you home—and I will, no matter what it takes, no matter what it costs.
Faye slid into a parking spot next to the private elevator.
“Stay here,” he said, in a tone that left no room for discussion.
She nodded, kept quiet, looked straight ahead. After he’d hung up on his secretary, Faye kept asking him if he was okay, if there was anything she could do. “Yeah,” he told her. “You can start by shutting up.”
Sebastian pressed the elevator call button, and again his thoughts spiraled back to the day the judge sentenced him to life in prison. Again he reminded himself he wasn’t a frightened nineteen-year-old kid. He wasn’t trapped and he wasn’t powerless. He could fix this. He didn’t know where Grace was, but he sure as hell knew who had her.
First, he had to deal with Maya Dawson. She had called moments after Ava had left, and told him he had to come to the Center right away. It was about Sixto Ferreria, Frank’s former IT guy and the second person who, like Link, had received a text from Paul. Maya said it was urgent but she didn’t want to get into it over the phone.
Sebastian knew why; he was using burners that weren’t encrypted. He wanted to toss his original phone into the garbage; then he remembered his secretary had given Paul his number. Best keep it for when the prick called.
As Sebastian rode the elevator to the top floor, he saw his reflection in the mirrorlike stainless-steel door.
“Grace,” he told his well-dressed reflection. “My daughter’s name is Grace.”