Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker Off the Books #4) - Nicole Edwards Page 0,82

he said the governor needed to be here when he called back or”—she swallowed hard and a sheen of tears clouded her eyes—“or he’d kill Dante.”

Reese was instantly there, putting his arm around Corinne’s narrow shoulders, pulling her close as he started toward the living room, muttering to her softly. “Let’s go in here, talk to your mom and dad. Get this figured out.”

Brantley sighed, then nodded his chin in their direction, a silent instruction for Trey to go with them.

Once he was alone, Brantley took a deep breath, scanned the large, modern kitchen, and prepared himself for what was to come.

He recalled what he’d seen on that grainy security camera. Whoever was calling … whoever was likely going to demand a ransom … they were doing this with Dante. And he knew that as certainly as he knew his own name.

The question he and Reese and Trey had pondered on the drive over was whether or not they should tell Gerard and Katrina. He damn sure had no intention of letting Dante get away with this, but he also wasn’t willing to let the Greenwoods fork over whatever ungodly amount of money was requested in order to get their son back safely when he was already safe.

The only reason they hadn’t decided on outing Dante’s plan was that damned finger. Deep down, he knew that finger belonged to Dante. Which meant one of two things: either Dante was a complete idiot and had cut off his own finger in an effort to make this plausible—highly unlikely considering his vanity—or something had gone cross between Dante and the person he was working with.

Because of that, they agreed they would let the fake kidnapper remain in control for now. They would change the narrative to work for them, but in order to do that, they needed the ransom demand to be made and the Greenwoods to buy them a little time.

When he joined the others in the living room, he cataloged the scene before him.

Katrina was sitting on a salmon-colored couch, Corinne at her side. Both women were huddled close, arms around one another as though holding each other together.

In one of the two straight-backed armchairs patterned in flowers the color of the couch was Gerard. He looked like a defeated man, his eyes rimmed in red, his body language rigid. When Brantley stepped into the room, the man pinned him with a distraught gaze.

Trey and Reese were nearby, doing their best to blend in with the furniture and failing miserably.

As he stared at the overwrought family, Brantley knew he needed to come clean about what had happened at JJ’s before they heard it elsewhere. He didn’t know quite where to start, so he decided ripping off the Band-Aid was likely the most respectful means.

Brantley stepped around to stand so that all three of them could see him, but he refused to sit down when Gerard motioned toward the other armchair.

“Sir, before the kidnapper calls back, I’d like to have someone on my team run a trace on the call.” Brantley motioned toward the cordless receiver on the table. “To do that, I need to know the number.”

When Corinne rattled it off, Brantley shot a text to Luca asking him for the trace. The response he got was immediate and affirmative.

He kept his focus on Gerard, finding it difficult to look at Katrina or Corinne. The last thing he wanted was to see pain on the women’s faces.

“Also,” he said as he was tucking his phone back in his pocket, “there was an incident we need you to be aware of.”

Gerard was immediately shaking his head. “The only person I’m worried about right now is Dante. So your incident’ll have to wait until later.”

“The incident involves your son,” he added, his tone harder than before, not appreciating the governor giving him the brush-off regardless of the topic.

When no one spoke, Brantley continued. “This mornin’, one of my investigators called me to come over to JJ’s house to deal with an urgent matter.”

“JJ?” Katrina’s eyes widened with worry. “Is she all right?”

“She is, yes.”

“What incident? And what does it have to do with anything?” Gerard hissed, his eyes reflecting his confusion and his anger with the entire situation.

“Sir—” Brantley began heatedly but was cut off.

“Sir, last night, your son reached out to Jessica James,” Reese relayed, his tone matter-of-fact and far more calm than Brantley’s. “From her account, he was upset, lookin’ for help. We’re not certain why he reached out to