Chapter 9
The phone call disconnected with a sharp click, leaving only the hollow hum of the connection. Arthur stood in the middle of the school’s administrative office, his chest heaving, the blood roaring in his ears. The secretary was staring at him in alarm, her hand hovering over the telephone to call campus security.
“Mr. Reynolds, are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?”
“Call the police,” Arthur barked, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and white-hot rage. “Call the local precinct and patch me through to Detective Vance’s office downtown immediately. My daughter has been abducted under false pretenses by my mother’s associates.”
He didn't wait for the secretary to complete the call. He bolted back out through the glass doors, leaped into his sedan, and tore out of the school parking lot, ignoring the speed limits as he navigated the suburban streets toward the public park shown in the video feed. His mind raced through every possible scenario. Margaret had completely crossed the line from legal manipulation into outright felony kidnapping and extortion. There would be no family dinners, no polite discussions, and no more hiding behind the veneer of suburban respectability.
As he drove, he dialed Marcus’s direct line on speakerphone. The attorney answered on the first ring.
“Marcus, they took her,” Arthur said, his voice cracking as he sped around a corner. “Margaret’s associates used an old emergency pickup form at the school to check Lily out. They just sent a ransom video—they’re demanding I drop the custody motion by five o'clock or I’ll never see her again.”
Marcus’s voice was lethal over the speaker. “Listen to me very carefully, Arthur. Do not engage them directly. Do not go to that park alone. I have already contacted the lieutenant in charge of the municipal missing persons unit. They’re tracking the IP address of the video feed right now. It originated from a cellular relay tower near Westlake Park.”
“Westlake Park is five minutes from where I am right now,” Arthur replied stubbornly. “I’m not sitting here waiting while my daughter is used as leverage by my own mother!”
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“Arthur, if you rush in there without backup, they will panic, move the child, and you may lose her trail entirely,” Marcus warned, his voice cutting through Arthur’s panic like a razor. “Trust the protocol. The police are already rolling units toward Westlake Park. I’m meeting you at the north entrance in four minutes. Stay on the phone with me.”
Arthur slowed his breathing, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles thundered. He pulled his sedan to the curb just outside the tree line of Westlake Park, cutting the engine. Through the windshield, he could see the green expanse of the park, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the empty walking paths. In the distance, near the duck pond, a lone figure in a yellow dress sat on a wooden bench.
