Page 54 of PenPal Hero

“Heavens, no,” his mother declared faintly.

“Well, the bozo who’s been snapping pictures of Bonnie does.” Holt returned his gaze to Foster. “And it’s not Jackson. Why are those photos on his laptop, and how did you discover they were there? Did you get a search warrant?”

“Nope.” Foster popped the P at the end of the word. “His office is down the hallway from mine.”

Holt was more confused than ever. “Why would the manager of Yates Ranch have an office at K&G Security’s headquarters?”

“Because he works there.” Pride radiated from Preston Yates’ voice and expression. “He went to work for them shortly after our arrival. They trained him so we could hire him as Bonnie’s personal bodyguard.” He made a rueful face. “Unbeknownst to her, of course. She’d been through enough. After her abduction, we wanted to give her some semblance of a normal teenage life, but we couldn’t take any more chances with her safety.”

“Plus, Jackson was desperate to redeem himself, and this gave him that opportunity,” Mrs. Yates sighed. “She was taken on his watch, and he’s never forgiven himself for it.” She shook her head. “He stopped dating. Stopped going out with his friends. Even stopped going to church. Keeping Bonnie safe became his full-time obsession.”

Holt waved away the pity party stuff about Jackson. Right now, he wanted to focus only on the stuff that would help them pinpoint Bonnie’s location. “So, let me get this straight. Jackson is Bonnie’s bodyguard, but she doesn’t know it?”

“That is correct.” Mrs. Yates’ lips trembled, as if she was struggling to hold back a sob.

“And you didn’t get a search warrant,” Holt faced his bosses, “because you didn’t need one. Everything at K&G Security headquarters is company property.”

“Affirmative.” Foster inclined his head.

“Is anything in the photos useful?” Holt knew he was hogging the floor, but no one was stopping him.

“That’s where this gets interesting.” Lyon wagged a finger at him, joining the conversation. “The photos are textbook stalker material. Zoomed-in snapshots of everyone’s coming and going. The only truly useful information came when our forensics guys uncovered the fact that Jackson’s computer had been hacked.”

Mrs. Yates made a bleating sound of distress. “By whom?”

“Another one of our security guards on staff,” Foster disclosed, blowing out a breath. “She goes by the name of Summer Rose Gardener, and her background has been so carefully altered that it got past our very stringent new hire screening process. Until now.”

Lyon nodded gravely. “And eyewitness accounts indicate that she drove off with Bonnie and Jackson in a black SUV that the other security guards initially assumed was a company vehicle. It wasn’t. By the time our boots on the ground guys realized it wasn’t, she and her vehicle were in the wind.”

Holt dropped his head, feeling defeated. “So they got to her, after all.”

“Not necessarily,” Foster countered. “Bonnie had no idea she was adopted. It’s possible Summer Rose is equally uninformed about her own adoption. It’s not in her standard background check. Our associates had to dig deep to find that information.”

“But there’s no guarantee Bonnie and Jackson are safe with her.” Holt hated to be the one to point that out. However, it was the truth. “Everyone whose lives Real Sons has touched is living with embedded mind control triggers.” Himself included, though his triggers hadn’t been planted in him at birth like the others.

“You have a point,” Foster conceded.

“And it still doesn’t explain why ten thousand dollars ended up in Jackson’s bank account,” Holt reminded. Was it possible that someone had paid him to kidnap his own sister? Holt wasn’t ready to rule anything out yet.

“I lent him the money,” Jude offered in a carefully modulated voice that held no inflection.

“Jude,” the sheriff warned.

Jude waved a hand unconcernedly. “He’s worried sick about his girlfriend. It might help him to know that I’m the one who lent Jackson the money.”

Holt’s suspicions were aroused. “Where did a convicted felon get ten thousand dollars?”

“Holt,” Foster admonished, giving Jude an apologetic look.

“It’s a fair question.” Jude’s expression didn’t change. “Here’s the answer.” He fixed his dark-as-black-ice gaze on Holt. “Jackson said he needed the money, and I had it to lend him. I have no better use for it while incarcerated.”

“Hold on a second.” Holt held up a finger. “Are you trying to tell us that Jackson came to you asking for a loan?”

“No. I voluntarily offered him the money when he came to me asking for advice.” The man’s deadpan expression rubbed Holt every which way but right. It was as if he didn’t possess a drop of normal human emotion.

“Advice about what?” Holt couldn’t believe no one else in the room was rushing to ask.

“How to live off the grid.” There was still no inflection in Jude’s voice. “That means you won’t find him until he’s ready to be found.”

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