“She doesn’t need anyone to tell her that. God no. She has Jason Neely now. He’s the only man she needs.”
“Daddy, please!” Ansley screamed. “Trixie is in danger. Do the two of you have to do this now?”
“It’s all right,” Kimberly said, dragging her fingertips across her forehead. “He’s probably right. I should’ve gone to the house with Mom and the dads who love me.”
Daddy Kane balked at that. He started to retaliate, but about that time, his phone call must’ve been connected. “Yes, Leo. It’s Kane Cartwell. How the hell do you think I am at five o’clock in the morning? Right. It’s not a social call. I’m looking for one of my daughters and need your help.”
He listened for a moment before he continued, “No, it’s not Ansley or Kimberly. It’s Trixie. We think she’s been abducted.” A beat later, he said, “Yes, yes. That’s right. Yes, I’m starting to believe that girl of mine digs ditches to find her tunnel of trouble. The guy is someone you’ll remember. He was close friends with Stephen Pratchert—Cash Whitehead.”
Ansley sat on the corner of the desk. “Tell him what he’s done. Tell him he was in prison. Tell him Vicky said—”
“Just a minute, Leo,” Daddy Kane said.
“He just needs to know who he is dealing with here. You aren’t telling him anything.”
“You aren’t giving me a chance, Ansley. Either zip it or leave the room.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her mind churning with all sorts of possibilities. The day Vicky thought Trixie had been abducted, she’d pulled up the guy online and read copies of several transcripts revealing exactly what kind of monster Cash Whitehead had been prior to his prison sentence.
Raising the phone to his ear once more, Daddy Kane said, “Leo, continue. I have my other daughters here with me now and as you can imagine, they’re quite distraught.”
For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the occasional vague vocal responses of “I understand” or “I see” but her father seemed more and more agitated as time wore on. Ansley braced for an outburst. Her father certainly had a few in him.
After about five minutes, he rose to his feet and stomped to the window. “You tell your men if they find her before she is harmed, I will donate a cash reward to each of their children’s college funds. You tell them she has a family waiting for her—a very wealthy family willing to pay for their loved one’s safe return.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Brock and Rory drove frantically for the Tennessee state line. Brock didn’t know why he’d decided to head that way. He assumed after Mitch confirmed one of the camp vehicles was missing, Trixie must’ve left the camp without realizing she was being followed.
“I don’t know why we didn’t wait at the camp,” Rory said.
“I can’t sit and do nothing.” Brock gripped the steering wheel tighter. He’d sworn to protect her. He’d promised to never let her out of his sight again after the whole Pratchert deal and what had he done? He’d all but handed her over to Cash Whitehead—not once, but twice!
“Think, Rory,” Brock said. “Think like Pratchert or this guy. If you were fresh out of prison where would you take her?”
“Pratchert and Whitehead both came to Cow Camp. When Pratchert abducted Trixie, he took her to that rundown motel. Maybe Whitehead will do the same.”
“No,” Brock said. “If he goes anywhere, he’ll stay in an upscale place. He wants to impress her. Remember, he believes Mitch still has a lot of money.”
“That’s all fine and good, but he doesn’t have the money to compete with what he thinks Mitch has.”
Brock waved his finger high in the air. “But his brother does.” He yanked his cell phone from his pocket and dialed their home number. Kane picked up on the first ring. “Kane, I need to ask a favor. Pull some strings and find out about Cash’s brother. Find out where he lives and how we can get in touch with him.”
“I’ve already tried that,” Kane said. “Guy has some pull. We can’t even get an address on him.”
“What?”
“I don’t stutter, Sheldon,” Kane said. “We are working every angle we can from here. Where are you?”
“About two miles from the Tennessee line.”
“Keep me informed.”
The line went dead.
“He blames us?”
“Of course he does. It’s our blame to carry,” Brock said, his heart in his throat. God, he couldn’t stand it if something happened to Trixie. What he’d give to have her with him now. What he’d give to hold her in his arms.