Treasured by Thursday
Page 84
“We don’t know that.”
“We can’t rule it out. Holding back information might result in someone else getting hurt . . . or worse.” She twisted toward Andrew. “Where is Hunter?” It was the first time she’d asked.
“I don’t know.”
Well that’s convenient. She lifted the phone and dialed Hunter’s office.
Tiffany apologized, said he wasn’t there . . . asked about her well-being.
No, Tiffany didn’t know where Hunter was. He asked for her to clear his calendar for the rest of the week.
Gabi hung up and dialed his cell.
Voice mail picked up.
“I don’t know where you are, and wouldn’t care if the police hadn’t just left our house. I need answers, Hunter. If I don’t get them soon, I’m going to the police myself and telling them everything I know.”
No sooner than the space of time it took to hang up the phone, it was ringing again.
“It’s Neil.”
Gabi glanced at the hidden camera she knew Neil and his team monitored. “Where’s Hunter?”
“I can’t tell you that, Gabi. Going to the police could be suicide.”
“A boy is dead.”
She heard him sigh. “Tell me what you know about him. What exactly was he doing at the house?”
“He wired the televisions, connected the cables . . . stuff like that. I think he helped a few of the girls with hanging some of the higher Christmas lights.”
“Anything about him seem odd?”
“There was a massive crew that day. Nothing felt off.” She paused. “Except the tree delivery guys. They weren’t off so much as overly helpful.”
“Tree delivery?” Neil cussed under his breath. “I’m sending over a team.”
“You already have a team here,” she said in protest.
“A different team. No more talk about going to the police, Gabi. You have to trust me on this.”
“If someone else ends up dead—”
“We will find them. Put Solomon on the phone.”
Frustrated, she shoved the phone into Solomon’s hand and left the room.
Hunter pulled into his father’s drive in a Jeep he’d picked up from the dealer before noon. If anyone was following him, they would have targeted the Town Car he had one of the security guards jump in the back of. It was all very cloak-and-dagger, but he didn’t trust anyone.
Wearing jeans—something he did on such a rare occasion that he had to hunt for an unopened box that had been sent from the high-rise condo he recently slept in—Hunter glanced around the secluded home of his father.
Tucked into the far suburbs of the Santa Clarita Valley, his father’s property wasn’t gated or secure in any way.
No one cared to notice.
There was a pickup in the drive, one Hunter had bought his dad a few years back. Beside it, a tiny sports car five years past its prime.
He pulled the key out of the ignition and lifted the collar on his jacket. Hiding under sunglasses and a baseball cap, Hunter jogged up the steps to his father’s home and didn’t bother to knock.
Hunter knew for a fact that a maid showed up every week to clean the place. Gardeners took care of the yard, and if the maid found the cupboards bare, she ordered groceries that were delivered.
Hunter might not care to spend time with his father, but he made sure the man had the basics.
He shed his cap and sunglasses the moment he closed the door. He pushed past the familiar hall and up the few short steps of the split-level home.
Standing in front of the sliding glass door was Noah, his back to him.
“I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”
Hunter looked around the room. “Where’s Dad?”
Noah didn’t turn from his perch, simply nodded behind him. “In the den. Probably out cold.”
Hunter tossed his keys, hat, and glasses on the table. He set the briefcase he brought with him down and left it.
He paused . . . as he’d been trying to do regardless of how difficult it felt.
How had he and his brother gotten to this point? How could they be as different as they were? Wasn’t there a time when they enjoyed each other? Would have blackened the eye of the other guy just for saying the wrong thing to their sibling? High school . . . it all changed in those formative years, and there was no going back.
Hunter moved to the front window of the house and looked out. When he was confident no one had parked themselves outside the drive, he moved back into the dining area where his brother stood.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Hunter told him.
Noah’s laugh started out slow, then grew. “You never do, brother.”
“This time it’s not about me.”
Noah turned then. When they were younger, looking at his identical twin was routine, now he found the image of an animated version of himself eerie. “Since when?”
Pause . . . patience.
“Why are you doing this?” If Hunter was ever going to get answers, it was now.
Noah looked down Hunter’s frame. “Wearing a wire, Hunter?”
Hunter shrugged off his jacket and shed his shirt with one smooth scoop. “Do I need to take off my pants?”
Noah lifted an eyebrow. “Because I could,” he said. “Because you stopped taking my calls.”
“I cut you off! Something he needed to do years ago.” Hunter flung his hand behind him to indicate their father.
“You think you’re so much better than everyone. But you never saw this coming, did you?”
Hunter sucked in a slow breath. “No, I didn’t.” He glanced at the briefcase on the kitchen table. “How much?”
“We can’t rule it out. Holding back information might result in someone else getting hurt . . . or worse.” She twisted toward Andrew. “Where is Hunter?” It was the first time she’d asked.
“I don’t know.”
Well that’s convenient. She lifted the phone and dialed Hunter’s office.
Tiffany apologized, said he wasn’t there . . . asked about her well-being.
No, Tiffany didn’t know where Hunter was. He asked for her to clear his calendar for the rest of the week.
Gabi hung up and dialed his cell.
Voice mail picked up.
“I don’t know where you are, and wouldn’t care if the police hadn’t just left our house. I need answers, Hunter. If I don’t get them soon, I’m going to the police myself and telling them everything I know.”
No sooner than the space of time it took to hang up the phone, it was ringing again.
“It’s Neil.”
Gabi glanced at the hidden camera she knew Neil and his team monitored. “Where’s Hunter?”
“I can’t tell you that, Gabi. Going to the police could be suicide.”
“A boy is dead.”
She heard him sigh. “Tell me what you know about him. What exactly was he doing at the house?”
“He wired the televisions, connected the cables . . . stuff like that. I think he helped a few of the girls with hanging some of the higher Christmas lights.”
“Anything about him seem odd?”
“There was a massive crew that day. Nothing felt off.” She paused. “Except the tree delivery guys. They weren’t off so much as overly helpful.”
“Tree delivery?” Neil cussed under his breath. “I’m sending over a team.”
“You already have a team here,” she said in protest.
“A different team. No more talk about going to the police, Gabi. You have to trust me on this.”
“If someone else ends up dead—”
“We will find them. Put Solomon on the phone.”
Frustrated, she shoved the phone into Solomon’s hand and left the room.
Hunter pulled into his father’s drive in a Jeep he’d picked up from the dealer before noon. If anyone was following him, they would have targeted the Town Car he had one of the security guards jump in the back of. It was all very cloak-and-dagger, but he didn’t trust anyone.
Wearing jeans—something he did on such a rare occasion that he had to hunt for an unopened box that had been sent from the high-rise condo he recently slept in—Hunter glanced around the secluded home of his father.
Tucked into the far suburbs of the Santa Clarita Valley, his father’s property wasn’t gated or secure in any way.
No one cared to notice.
There was a pickup in the drive, one Hunter had bought his dad a few years back. Beside it, a tiny sports car five years past its prime.
He pulled the key out of the ignition and lifted the collar on his jacket. Hiding under sunglasses and a baseball cap, Hunter jogged up the steps to his father’s home and didn’t bother to knock.
Hunter knew for a fact that a maid showed up every week to clean the place. Gardeners took care of the yard, and if the maid found the cupboards bare, she ordered groceries that were delivered.
Hunter might not care to spend time with his father, but he made sure the man had the basics.
He shed his cap and sunglasses the moment he closed the door. He pushed past the familiar hall and up the few short steps of the split-level home.
Standing in front of the sliding glass door was Noah, his back to him.
“I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”
Hunter looked around the room. “Where’s Dad?”
Noah didn’t turn from his perch, simply nodded behind him. “In the den. Probably out cold.”
Hunter tossed his keys, hat, and glasses on the table. He set the briefcase he brought with him down and left it.
He paused . . . as he’d been trying to do regardless of how difficult it felt.
How had he and his brother gotten to this point? How could they be as different as they were? Wasn’t there a time when they enjoyed each other? Would have blackened the eye of the other guy just for saying the wrong thing to their sibling? High school . . . it all changed in those formative years, and there was no going back.
Hunter moved to the front window of the house and looked out. When he was confident no one had parked themselves outside the drive, he moved back into the dining area where his brother stood.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Hunter told him.
Noah’s laugh started out slow, then grew. “You never do, brother.”
“This time it’s not about me.”
Noah turned then. When they were younger, looking at his identical twin was routine, now he found the image of an animated version of himself eerie. “Since when?”
Pause . . . patience.
“Why are you doing this?” If Hunter was ever going to get answers, it was now.
Noah looked down Hunter’s frame. “Wearing a wire, Hunter?”
Hunter shrugged off his jacket and shed his shirt with one smooth scoop. “Do I need to take off my pants?”
Noah lifted an eyebrow. “Because I could,” he said. “Because you stopped taking my calls.”
“I cut you off! Something he needed to do years ago.” Hunter flung his hand behind him to indicate their father.
“You think you’re so much better than everyone. But you never saw this coming, did you?”
Hunter sucked in a slow breath. “No, I didn’t.” He glanced at the briefcase on the kitchen table. “How much?”
