House of Fire (Unraveled Series) (20 page)

“We both did, on a
few different occasions, but it never seemed right. She wanted all of you
together. The last time was near Ben’s wedding, but she didn’t want to ruin his
day with Megan. I agreed. Then, during the weeks in Chicago with her surgery,
she had mumbled about it in her hospital bed, afraid that she would die before
she told you all, but I reassured her she would make it. That the time would be
right to tell you,” Michael said. “I’m sorry it took so long and I’m sorry
she’s not here.”

“It might be better
that way,” Mark replied as he finally lifted his hands from their shoulders.
Delaney nodded her head in agreement. Her face, puffy and swollen from crying,
throbbed beneath her forehead. The excruciating pain that her parents had
endured was unbelievable; her mother had kept the secret buried for so long.
What
else is Ann Jones keeping from us?

“I just haven’t
figured out this Holston Parker guy,” Michael said as he shifted in his seat to
look at Mark. “I don’t remember your mother seeing anyone in particular before
we started dating, but we were married when we were both twenty-five. I guess
that leaves a lot of time for complicated relationships.”

“When did Mom work at
House of Steel?” Delaney asked as she crumbled the Kleenex in her hand.

“House of Steel. I
haven’t heard that name in a long time. How did you know she worked there?”
Michael asked, his bloodshot eyes questioning her.

“Mom mentioned it
once when I told her I was thinking about waitressing back in college,” she
lied, tearing off tiny pieces of Kleenex and collecting them into a pile.

“You, waitress?” Mark
let out a small laugh before he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover it
up. He searched Delaney’s eyes, looking for answers.
He remembers Evie’s
note.

“That would be funny
to see,” James added as he tried to ease the tension in the kitchen. Emotional
upheaval wasn’t standard in the Jones family. They laughed and yelled like most
other normal, dysfunctional families, but they didn’t cry.
It was a sign of
weakness,
Ann Jones had once told Delaney when she had cried one day after
school when she was ten-years-old from a ripped hole in her jeans.
And a
Jones
, she said,
isn’t weak
. Delaney took those words to heart;
although, she rarely shed tears, she was the “crier” of the family.

“I’m just surprised
your mother even mentioned anything like that to you. She never talks about
Amberg,” Michael finally replied, letting his chest fall. “She worked there for
a few years while you were young. She started just after the twins showed up to
earn a little extra money during the day. She left when she was pregnant with
Anna, I think anyway. You think that has to do with Holston Parker?”

“No,” Delaney lied
again, feeling her gut twist. Ann met Holston Parker at House of Steel, clearly
when her parents were married and her poor father had no idea. “I just wondered
if she worked there when she was a teenager or something. Maybe she would have
met him there, but that wasn’t the case.”

As Delaney finished
the words, several knocks rapped on the front door.

“That must be the
police.” Mark moved into the foyer and opened the door to the stocky, Latino
Police Chief.

Sanchez. Shit.

“Come on in.” Mark
offered his hand, his professionalism perfected to a tee with his experience at
Holston Enterprises. All that corporate bullshit Delaney had always hated. “I’m
Mark Jones.”

“Police Chief
Sanchez.” He shook Mark’s hand hard while he looked into the house, narrowing
in on Delaney. Her chest thudded as he walked into the house, dressed in full
uniform. He pulled off his mirrored aviators in one smooth gesture, hooking
them in the opening of his collared shirt. It was a move she’d seen - that
everyone had seen- from classic cop movies. The officer strolled into the scene
and whips off his sunglasses, scrutinizing the so-called victims. She wondered
if Sanchez had practiced that move, ensuring that he
looked
his part. In
a normal kidnapping scenario, Sanchez should have been studying his potential
suspects. Delaney had once read that almost fifty percent of kidnappings were
“family kidnappings,” while almost thirty percent of abductors were
acquaintances. But he wasn’t examining his potential suspects; he was silently
interrogating only one of them. Delaney.

His holster dangled a
battalion and handgun around his waist. Delaney returned his stare, looking
into the same eyes she had lied to just six months ago. She wanted an authority
figure to trust - an officer of the law to protect her - but it wasn’t Sanchez.
Michael Jones released his wet Kleenex on the counter and got up to meet their
guest. While Michael moved off of the stool, Delaney felt a buzz inside her
pocket. She slid out the phone from her shorts to see the message:
Sneak out
the back. On street behind Mark’s house. Black Ford - V.

“Michael Jones,
Mark’s father,” Michael said as he held his hand out. Sanchez nodded and shook
his head, walking further into the foyer.

“You must be
Delaney’s father as well,” Sanchez said turning to Delaney. She forced a smile,
her puffy cheeks heavy against her face.

“Hello again,” she
offered with a meager wave from the stool. Michael turned back to Delaney with
an inquisitive look.

“We met last winter
while we were searching for the missing student on campus. We called in all of
his past professors,” Sanchez said, his eyes still fixed on Delaney’s. Sanchez
knew more than he was letting on. She needed to get out and fast. Delaney
looked at James, feeling a sudden panic that she would be leaving him alone to
fend with Mark and Michael. They wouldn’t understand, though. Evie held the
pieces of the puzzle that would help them find Ann.

“Always meeting under
unfortunate circumstances.” Delaney swiped the counter with her chunks of
Kleenex and got up to toss them in the garbage. Evie was waiting for her, but
Delaney hesitated, waiting to hear something from Sanchez.

“Regina said that
your wife is missing?” Sanchez turned to Michael on cue.

“I don’t know if she
is exactly missing,” Mark interrupted before Michael could respond.

“I would say she is
missing. Well, we know where she is. She’s with Holston Parker, but I think he
might be holding her against her will,” Michael blurted out. Delaney watched
Sanchez’s face, waiting for a telling sign. A twitch of his nose. A raise of an
eyebrow. A blink. But there was nothing.

“She’s with Holston
Parker?” Sanchez finally asked, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he nodded
his head.
He’s not surprised.

“Yes, and Mark works
for him,” Michael waved his hand at Mark standing beside him. “Mark tried to
call a few times, but Holston never answered. What do you know about Holston
Parker?”

Sanchez shifted the
weight on his legs and glanced at Delaney before he began, “I’m sure I know
just about as much as you do, Mr. Jones. I know he’s a prominent member of
Appleton who has donated a great deal of his wealth to the community. His
thriving business has been a boost for the economy in the area. I know nothing
of his personal life. What is your wife’s connection to him?”

“We’re not sure,”
Mark responded, running his hand through his hair again. His career was on the
line. Delaney knew that Mark didn’t want to believe her. He wanted to believe
that the boss
he
knew was the real Holston Parker, yet he had seen Ann’s
face, just as Delaney had.

“What makes you
believe that she is being held against her will?” Sanchez asked as a phone rang
through the foyer. Sanchez shoved his hand in his pocket and checked the number
before holding up his hand to them. “Excuse me just one moment.”

His matching black
hair and uniform vanished through the doorway and onto the front porch for
privacy, but his voice carried through the open windows flanking the front door
anyway.

“President Givens?”
Sanchez asked, louder than what he had anticipated. Mark and James exchanged a
shrug of shoulders as they listened to Sanchez’s voice lower.
Shit
.
It
was President Givens.
Holston killed President Givens
. Evie’s text
burned in Delaney’s pocket as she thought of poor Helen clutching her pearls.
Helen was better off without her sleazy husband, but she would be crushed. His
death would send shockwaves through the university.

Delaney needed to go.
Now.
She turned to James and wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the
mixture of sweat and cologne from his cotton t-shirt one last time. She
lingered for a moment, not wanting to let go of him. She wanted to tell him how
much she loved him, how much she needed him.

“I’m going to hit the
bathroom quick,” she said instead. She left the comfort of his arms and moved
down the hall, listening to Mark’s voice one last time.

“It’s going to be
okay, Dad. We’ll find her,” Mark assured him as Delaney disappeared into her
bedroom and ran to her top dresser drawer. She swiped her underwear aside and
grabbed Randy’s 9mm from the drawer. She snapped the strap of the holster to
her bra, sliding the gun into its place after she double checked the rounds and
the safety.
Five shots.
She felt the gun nudge against her ribcage as
she slid the drawer shut and ducked across the hall to the bathroom. She locked
the door behind her, panicking momentarily at the size of the small window. She
would have to fit; she couldn’t go back. The sounds of kids’ voices rang
through the backyard to her left. Regina’s boys would see. She lunged toward
the window, popped out the screen and wedged her body through the opening feet
first, straddling on her stomach until she let go. Delaney’s feet hit the mud
as she turned to assess the boys on the left.

“Hi.” The freckled
blonde boy tucked a ball on his hip and waved.

“What are you doing?”
the smaller of the two asked before he hit the ball out of his brother’s hand.

“Shh, it’s secret. I
know you can keep really good secrets,” Delaney whispered before she gave them
a friendly wave and bolted through Mark’s backyard. She knew they would never
be able to keep a secret, but she needed just enough time to get to Evie. She
crept past the swimming pool of the Henderson’s and ran between two houses to
the sidewalk. Delaney looked to an empty street to the right and then turned
left to see the taillights of a black Ford Focus.
Evie.

Delaney fled down the
sidewalk, the adrenaline pumping through her legs to propel her forward. As she
felt the clumps of mud fall off her shoes, her chest tightened at the thought
of James’s face. His gentle and loving eyes. What if she never saw them again?
She thought of Michael’s pained eyes; she had left him at the most vulnerable
she had ever seen him, but she heaved forward, banking that the woman waiting
for her would have the answers. That Evie would help her find Ann Jones. That
Evie would put an end to this all.

26

June 17 - 10:45 a.m

Delaney climbed into
the passenger seat, turning to see a woman with long blonde hair and large
aviators covering half of her face. A quick moment of panic flooded Delaney as
the woman in heels and a short cotton dress slammed her foot on the gas and
sped down the street with her small hands wrapped around the steering wheel.
She pulled her right hand off and reached for her hair. The wig tumbled down to
reveal the dark, cropped hair.

“Is that better?”
Evie asked, a coy smile spread across her face.

“Yeah, it just caught
me off guard,” Delaney exhaled - the twisted sense of relief of being with Evie
returned. “Last time I saw you, you were wearing combat boots and army pants.”

“Don’t worry, they’re
in the back seat. How many were at the house?”

“Just one.” Delaney
turned to see the backpack; she hoped Evie had more than combat boots and army
pants in the bag.

“Sanchez?” Evie asked
as she slowed for a stop sign, turning out of the subdivision. She slammed her
foot down again, accelerating on the open road. Delaney reached for the seat
belt, pulling it across her body before she gripped the door handle.

“Yeah, just Sanchez.
Let’s just not get picked up for speeding,” Delaney warned as she shot a look
at Evie. Her skin was sun-kissed a warm bronze tone. Her cropped hair was still
short, but had grown out a bit, still spiked in all different directions. She was
still beautiful in her kick-ass pixie kind of way. Evie dropped her speed by
one, maybe two, miles per hour.

“Do you have a gun in
the bag? Where have you been?” Delaney asked.

“I can’t tell you,”
Evie replied flatly. Anger flared in Delaney as she reached to open the window.

“Last time I saw you
in the barn, you told me to trust you. I think we’re past this shit, aren’t we?
The secrets. The games. None of that crap is going to work if we are going to
finally put this all behind us,” Delaney replied before pausing. This wasn’t
how she wanted this to go. She needed Evie, and she didn’t know how bad Evie
needed her, not yet anyway.

“Sanchez, huh?” Evie
pondered as she nodded her head and turned to Delaney. “I was in Europe,
visiting a friend. That’s all I can tell you right now.”

“Not exactly China.
Do you think Sanchez works for your dad?” Delaney replied as the hot breeze rushed
against her skin. She needed to know the intricacies of her relationship with
Holston. She needed to find out who Holston Parker really was.

“I was really in
Europe the whole time. That’s a fact.” Evie’s lips curled up into a devilish
smile before her face fell serious again. “I don’t know who he has under wraps
in the police department, but I wish I did.”

“Me, too. This would
be a whole lot easier. Where are we going?” Delaney asked as Evie veered onto
the on-ramp headed north on Hwy 41.