Someone had tried to strangle her.
A voice interrupted the silence.
“She tripped.”
Richard looked up.
Ethan Caldwell stood several feet away adjusting the cuff of his tailored suit as though nothing unusual had happened.
“She lost her balance.”
His voice was calm.
Almost bored.
Richard looked back at Emily’s neck.
Then at Ethan.
“So she strangled herself on the way down?”
For the first time, Ethan’s smile faded.
Only slightly.
Victoria glanced at the blood soaking into the white rug.
She sighed with irritation.
“What a shame.”
Richard looked at her.
“The rug?”
She nodded.
“That Persian rug cost more than that old pickup truck you drove here.”
Richard didn’t answer.
Instead, he carefully slid one arm beneath Emily’s shoulders and another beneath her knees.
She whimpered as he lifted her.
“I’m taking my daughter.”
Ethan laughed.
A quiet, confident laugh.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
Richard kept walking.
Ethan followed.
“You know the county sheriff plays golf with me.”
No response.
“The district attorney owes me several favors.”
Richard continued toward the door.
“I’ve donated millions across this state.”
Still nothing.
“The family court judge practically spends Christmas at our house.”
Richard reached the front steps.
Ethan folded his arms.
“Do whatever you want, Colonel.”
His smile returned.
“No one is going to touch me.”
Richard paused only long enough to open the passenger-side door of his truck.
He laid Emily across the seat as gently as possible.
She barely remained conscious.
Her breathing was shallow.
Her lips trembled.
He walked around to the driver’s side.
Before starting the engine, he opened the glove compartment.
Inside, untouched for eleven years, rested the battery pack for the satellite phone.
He inserted it.
The screen flickered to life.
Searching…
Signal acquired.
Richard entered a number from memory.
One he had sworn never to call again.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Someone answered.
Richard spoke only six words.