Page 5 of Lost Love Cove 3
She turned, and he followed her back into the study, where Carrie handed Matt the envelope meant for him. He took it, his heart thudding and breath hitching slightly as their fingers brushed. Matt ignored it, trying not to let his mind wander to where they nearly kissed earlier, and forced himself to concentrate on the envelope.
“I don’t know about you, but this feels rather ominous to me,” Carrie said quietly.
Matt examined the envelope. “I agree.”
“Let’s open them one by one,” Carrie suggested and picked up the gold letter opener on Trevor’s desk.
Matt forced a smile, trying to chase away the tension. “Isn’t it a crime to open someone else’s mail?”
“Not during an investigation,” Carrie replied flatly. Her eyes never left the paper as she ripped through the top of the envelope.
So much for trying to work away some tension. Matt thought, his stomach knotting as he stepped closer, as Carrie unfolded the letter, and together they read:You have 24 hours to find the files Trevor stole. If you fail, you will never see your granddaughter again.
Carrie gasped softly, her hands trembling. She looked at Matt. “The kids being taken are all tied into these property scandals.”
Matt stepped closer, heart hammering, and he nodded, dreading opening the envelope in his hands. “I’m sorry, Carrie. This is all my fault. I should never have dragged you into this.” He ran a hand through his hair, guilt and fear tearing through him.
“No!” Carrie shook her head. “Don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, Matt.” She looked at him, and he could see she was being sincere. “The moment I arrived here for the summer I was pulled into whatever this is.” She glanced at the letter in his hands. “What does yours say?” She handed him the letter opener.
Matt hesitated for a split second before taking it and ripping the top of the envelope. Taking a breath and bracing himself, he unfolded the letter with stiff fingers. Together they read it:
Stay out of the county offices. Do not report the deed or what you know about Ms. Marshall helping you within the next 48 hours. If you do, you will never see your grandson again.
The storm outside howled, rattling the windows like fists against glass.
Matt’s pulse thundered in his ears. He felt like the world had started to throb around him as thoughts tumbled through his brain, jolting his heart, and igniting fear in his gut.
As he stood there staring at the paper in his hand, one thing was now glaringly clear. Where his property was concerned, fraud was no longer a suspicion. It was a fact. And now it had wrapped its claws around the people he loved.
3
TRENT RYDER (CARRIE’S SON)
The storm raged harder by the minute, rain lashing in sideways sheets across Key West, battering against buildings and hissing against the streets that were already slick with water. Trent stood just outside the emergency exit of the old brick building, chest heaving as he scanned the darkened alley for threats. His phone was useless. The last call to his mother had dropped mid-sentence, and now there was nothing but dead silence, no matter how many times he tried.
He hated silence more than noise. Silence meant disconnection. Disconnection meant danger.
Behind him, Alisha leaned against the wall, one hand pressed against her head, blood seeping slowly through the towel he’d given her. She looked pale under the dim security light, her features drawn tight with exhaustion and fear. But her eyes—they still burned with determination.
“You need stitches,” Trent said, forcing calm into his voice though his nerves were strung taut.
“No.” Her refusal was quiet but steady. “Not until we find them.”
Trent turned, meeting her eyes. “Alisha?—”
Her jaw set. “I can’t waste time in a hospital bed while Cody and Maggie are out there. We find them first.”
He exhaled through his nose, frustration pounding like a second heartbeat in his skull. She had the same fierce streak he carried himself, the same refusal to stand down when family was at risk. He admired it, even as it drove him to the edge.
“Then we regroup somewhere safe,” Trent said at last. “I know a place. The agency has a safe house close by. We can dry off and get my colleagues to pull resources together to track where whoever took Maggie and…” His brow crinkled as he looked at Alisha.
“Cody,” Alisha offered. “My son’s name is Cody.”
“Cody,” Trent offered a warm smile as he stood trying to block her from the wind and rain that pelted against his back as sharply as a stinging whip. But he ignored it. “Now, please, let's go to the agency safe house because you need to get out of those wet clothes and have your head seen to.”
Her gaze sharpened. “The Agency?” Alisha looked at him questioningly. “That sounds more like the CIA than the FBI.” Her brow tightened some more. “I’m sure your mother told me you were FBI!”
She was sharp—sharper than he’d expected. He forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Terminology overlaps sometimes. Besides, it doesn’t matter what we call it. What matters is that it’s secure and staffed with people who can help us find the kids even in this raging storm.”
