replied.
“What?” the Millstones said in unison.
“Madeline Alycia Tate,” Sparrow said. “Think hard. Your answer may save your life.”
It wouldn’t, but even the slightest hope was a sufficient motivator.
The couple shook their heads as they looked from one to the other. If this had not been real life, but perhaps a cartoon, we would see gears turning within their skulls as they searched their memories.
“I’m sorry,” Wendy said. “There were so many.”
Slowly, Jerry’s eyes met Sparrow’s and his neck straightened. “I know who you’re talking about. Of course you’d be interested. You needn’t worry. Most likely she’s dead or was sold out of the country.” His head shook. “It’s the same as dead. Those purchases don’t return.”
The barrel of my gun rose to point at Wendy. “Think harder,” I said.
His head shook. “Listen, I have what I know about her early history, who took her, and who finally purchased her. However, that was a while ago. As I said, she could be dead or sold again.” He shrugged. “I don’t follow every purchase.”
He was talking about Madeline such as one would track an item on eBay, and with each one of his sentences, my finger itched to pull the trigger.
Jerry went on talking to Sparrow, “You want to ensure that she’s dead. I get that. If you’ll allow me to look, I can give you what we have. The paperwork is in my office.”
I forced my finger to remain away from the trigger. As much as I wanted to see his brain matter splattered over the windows, if he actually retained the documentation, it could prove helpful for retaliation against others who did Madeline wrong. My gaze went to Sparrow.
“Both of you,” Sparrow said to the Millstones, “stand up. We’re all going to find this paperwork.”
They both stood. Jerry reached for the table unsteadily as he pressed the napkin to his temple.
“Are you all right?” Wendy asked as she reached out to her husband.
He was better than he would be.
A prod with the barrel of my gun refocused her attention.
With Sparrow behind Jerry and me behind Wendy, the four of us walked through the living room to a large office. Located in the front corner of the house, the room was filled with sunlight streaming through two walls of glass overlooking the ocean. I took a step near the window and looked down. From this location, there was no balcony. The house appeared to hang over the rocky cliff. “That has to be a forty-foot drop.”
“It’s in here,” Jerry said, pointing to a picture. “I’ll show you.”
Sparrow nodded.
Jerry swung the picture upon a hinge, revealing the door of a safe. As Jerry began entering a code, my phone buzzed. With one hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled the phone free. When I swiped the screen, Reid’s message appeared.
DISTRESS SIGNAL ACTIVATED. BLOCKED. NEVER SENT AND NOW DELETED.
Sparrow’s eyes met mine. I didn’t need to say what I’d learned. With a simple nod, he knew.
The door to the hidden safe opened. Within were multiple stacks of old journals as well as a clear box containing various types of electronic storage.
“It’s somewhere in here,” he said.
“Your signal has been deactivated,” I said, lifting my gun, ready to relieve the persistent itch.
I pulled the trigger.
“No,” Wendy screamed, her hands flying to her lips.
With a high-pitch whistle and muffled bang, the 9mm bullet entered the front of Jerry’s skull. For only a millisecond, the realization registered as his eyes opened wide. Blood splattered over the windows and wall. His limbs twitched milliseconds before his body lost rigidity and crumpled to the floor.
“Oh no,” she screamed.
“Mrs. Millstone,” Sparrow said, “come with us.”
Her eyes didn’t move from her husband’s dead body or the pool of red forming around his head.
I tugged on her arm. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Walking back to the living room, Sparrow opened the glass door. Unlike in the office, here it was the balcony that jutted over the cliff. A gust of warm breeze billowed our hair and clothes as the three of us stepped onto the stone balcony. Our ears filled with the roar of the surf as sunlight streamed down from overhead. Though the temperature was only in the sixties, with the low Southern California humidity, the air felt warmer. We continued walking to the edge.
The perimeter of the balcony was surrounded by an all-clear railing. The design allowed for ocean viewing at every height. I stepped to the railing and peered over. The cliff upon which the house stood was