Page 19 of The Wolves Come at Night
Finally, hands shaking, she opened it.
NOW ARE YOU TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY?
She sprinted to the door and threw it open. Teddy was just pulling out of the drive. Lord, time flies. When had he gotten his license? She waved wildly, and he stopped at the mailbox, rolled down his window.
“Where’s your daddy? Santiago?”
“At the bakery.”
“I need to talk to him, right now. But I need to do it in person, and I have to stay here. Would you please go get him and bring him to me?”
Teddy didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right back, Dr. Conway.”
He sped away, and Avery went back inside the house, dialing Carson again. The phone rang and rang, no voicemail coming on.
Why would someone take Carson?
Where would she get two million dollars?
She should call the police, right this moment. She wasn’t an idiot, she didn’t have cash money like this on hand, and they would know what to do.
But Santiago might have another idea. She hoped and prayed that the rumblings and rumors she’d heard over the years were right.
That he used to work for the government before he retired and moved to New Haven.
That he used to be a spy.
That he used to be in a gang.
That he’d killed ten men with a fork.
That he was incapable of being hurt.
That he’d spent three years in prison.
That he was a ghost.
She called her boys, one after the other. Got their voicemails. Shit. This wasn’t something she wanted to say in a message, she needed to talk in person. “Call me,” she said to each.
She heard the squeal of the truck’s tires and dropped the letter on the table. Santiago Diaz-Rooney strode into the room, still wearing his apron, a dusting of flour on his cheek and in the fringe of his dark hair.
“Avery? What’s wrong?”
“Teddy, please excuse us, all right?”
With a glance toward his father, who nodded, eyebrows drawn tight together, Teddy melted away into the hall. When she heard the front door slam, Avery thrust the notes into Santiago’s hands. He read them, paling a bit.
“What the hell?”
“Exactly my thought.” Avery struggled to keep her voice even. “I’ve been calling and she’s not answering. Why would someone take Carson?”
“For the money, apparently. But do you have this kind of cash to access?”
“No, of course not. It’s all tied up, in the house, the bakery, investments. But Santi—what do I do?”
She moved suddenly, knocking the wineglass to the floor. The ruby liquid purled on the hardwood and reminded her of lifeblood. She burst into tears, ragged sobs that racked her body. Damn it, g-g-get yourself together, but even her inner voice was weeping.
Santiago held her while she shook, murmuring soothing nothings until she got a grip on herself and could take a big, shuddery breath.
