When the Heart Lies - By Christina North Page 0,78

put your headset on. I’m going to prompt you,” Mills said.

Xavier picked up the phone with a confused expression. He examined the cell before putting it on speaker. He answered confidently. “Xavier Wentworth.” The line remained silent. “This is Xavier Wentworth. Who is this please? What can I help you with?” The caller hung up. “Damn it!” Xavier shouted uncharacteristically. “And this isn’t Angela’s cell, but it’s the one she was talking on this morning; I’m positive. Is there any way we can get information from this phone? It looks like it’s a cheap disposable.”

Mills let out a disappointed grumble. “It’d be difficult if the cell’s disposable, and the call was short. Okay, I think we’ve done all we can do tonight. Mrs. Ericson, thanks for your time,” Mills said. “Call if you remember anything. We’ll get back to you with any questions.” Mrs. Ericson hung up, and Mills spoke to Xavier. “Xavier, I’d liked to go to the hospital with you tomorrow. Maybe we can get some information from your wife. I’m aware she can’t talk, but she may be able to give us answers to yes or no questions. Or by some miracle, explain to us why she needed a second cell phone. Since Jackson is familiar with the case, he’s already been reinstated. He’ll be working with Olivia, and I’ll be overseeing. Jackson, you continue with what you’ve planned,” Mills said and cut the line.

Xavier disconnected the call and stood with his hand on the phone, looking disappointed.

Chapter 17

Kinsley was alone in the cabin for the first time. Wayde had gone out to make a call for the ransom. He locked her inside and left Remy to stand guard on the porch. She wasn’t sure why, but was grateful she wasn’t going to have to be alone with him. She scrambled, searching for anything to help her escape. There was nothing sharp, nothing deadly. She checked the bedrooms, bathroom, and living and kitchen areas. Nothing. Then, she saw the coffee pot on the counter. So simple, but it had escaped her. Until now. She grabbed the coffee, placed a filter into the basket, and dropped three scoops into it. Without regret, she reached into the front of her shorts and removed the pills with trembling hands. In haste, she opened the bottle and spread them across the top of the grounds. Then she put two more scoops in to cover them. While unlikely to kill them, the effects of the brew would give her time to get away. But if it did kill them, so be it. She wasn’t going to sit and do nothing. She heard the car pull up and Wayde come onto the porch. He and Remy started talking. After about five minutes, their voices escalated. The conversation sounded heated. Their voices died down, but she still heard them talking. When the screen door squeaked, she scurried to the couch and slunk down into the ratty cushions.

Wayde entered first. Like a wild man, he dashed toward her, his rank hostility permeating the room. Apparently, the call for the ransom hadn’t gone well. He jerked her by the arm, hauling her from the sofa onto the floor. Before she realized what happened, he bent over and yanked her by her ponytail. Using the ponytail like a rope, he swung her around several times. Her hands clawed his, and her screams mingled with his ranting as she struggled trying to separate herself from him.

“You’re getting to be more trouble than you’re worth. You bitch!” He kicked her feet. “Get up, make yourself useful, and get me a beer.”

She scrambled to her feet and grabbed him a beer from the ice chest. Wayde picked up the chair that had fallen over in the uproar and sat down at the table, focusing on some invisible target. Remy swiped his glass from the table, poured himself a whiskey, and then stood perched against the door eerily silent. He had never been so subdued. She handed Wayde his beer, even popped the tab for him, as she slid into her chair at the table.

“That woman is going to get you killed,” Wayde said with vacant affect.

She studied his face, and searched for a hint of frivolousness in his tone, but didn’t detect it. With Remy uncharacteristically quiet, she was inclined to believe Wayde’s remark. “What woman? What are you talking about?”

Wayde smiled disturbingly. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He shook his head with a grunt and lit a