CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JOSHUA BRYANT
Another day in paradise.
It’s a beautiful spring day in New York City.
My family is healthy and happy. I’ve never seen my wife happier, Jackson, one of my twins, has settled into married life and fatherhood perfectly. Our adopted son Jacob got married last summer and just told us he and his wife Isabelle are expecting another grandchild for Isla and me. Hope, my baby, has gone off to college - my little girl is all grown up and wants to make a mark on her own before she joins her two brothers in the family business.
The family business, Bryant Industries, the company my grandfather and grandmother built up from nothing. The same company that was almost destroyed by members of our own family. My uncle is dead and my cousin is in jail but I still can’t get out of my head what Jacob and Isabelle keep saying. That this Marco guy who was responsible for everything just as much as my uncle and cousin were is still out there. He’s out there unpunished and still dealing in the same things. But we have no proof and without proof we have nothing. The business is thriving again, making millions of dollars every week - legally I’d like to add - with my twin sons at my side helping to run this beautiful ship. I’m happy, content. I just wish that my third son Harry would start to settle down and become the man I know is hiding within the teenager he still tries to show the world he is. For Christ’s sake he’s just under four years off of hitting thirty and he’s still acting like a teenager in his personal life. I think Isla and I have come to the end of our rope but we can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing in this world of sharks.
I hear the vibrations of my cell against my grandfather’s desk and I smile when I see my wife’s name flashing away at me.
“I love you Isla.” I respond just after accepting the call. She’s silent for a moment and I can picture her beautiful smile but then her tears begin to wash through me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I still haven’t heard from Hope.” She says through her tears.
“She’s going to be busy, baby girl. She’ll be getting into her lessons, she doesn’t have time to keep calling her parents all the time.” My wife.
My beautiful baby girl, she gets so panicked if one of the kids doesn’t call when they say they will but with Hope she seems worse.
Oh God, I love her.
I love the way she loves our family and then I hear the gentle sway of her voice again.
“I just tried her cell and it went straight to voicemail. She’s been gone for nearly two months and she always phones every other day or so. We haven’t heard from her in days and I just have a feeling. I’m worried, Joshie.”
My heart melts at my wife’s concern for our daughter. I remember what it was like being away from home for the first time, it’s liberating - as much as I hate that as a father I know that’s what my daughter will be feeling.
“She’ll be fine, Isla, but if we don’t hear anything by the end of the week I’ll go to the college myself.”
“I don’t know, Joshie, I’m really worried about her.”
“She’ll be fine. She’s just having fun.”
“Having fun. Are you sure that’s all this will be?”
“Of course, she’s more like her brothers than we know.” I hear the gentle laugh in the back of her throat.
“You promise you’ll go down there if we still haven’t heard from her?”
“Yes I will. I promise.”
I manage to say through the laughter that wants to erupt from deep within my stomach.
“I’m going now Bryant.” She whispers and I can feel the laughter yet annoyance from my words and I know I’ll be in trouble when I get home. My body quivers in response to my own thoughts. I look down at the city I love, the hustle and bustle of the most famous city in the world is a constant homing beacon to me but as I get older I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have more free time. Have more time with my beautiful wife, my beautiful wife who is probably a little annoyed at me right now. Once the twins have settled into their roles here in the company I can start to stand back a little, take longer vacations with Isla, but now I think I might want a little more. I’m nearly fifty-six I think I deserve it now. My buzzer goes off and I press the button to speak to my new assistant. God, I miss Mary, but she needed to retire or she would have stayed here forever and I couldn’t have done that to her.
“Yes, Roxanne.”
“Mr Bryant, there’s a package here for you that requires your signature.”
“Ok, I’m coming.”
I get up from my chair and walk around my grandfather’s desk and go to my door. When I open it I can see a delivery man waiting by Roxanne’s desk. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her and I feel protective of my assistant. We’re a family here, we’re not just a business, and I’ve always been proud of that. Atmosphere and employee contentment had gone down by the time I started but with a lot of trust and hard work I’ve managed to get it back to the way it was when my grandfather was running it.
“Mr Bryant?” The slimy man asks me, with a white envelope in his hand.
“Yes.” I look towards the envelope, just wanting this man out of my building.
“I need you to sign for this.” He passes me a tablet and shows me where to sign. As soon as I’ve done it he hands me the envelope and walks out. I did not like that guy, there was something about him. With the envelope now in my hand I walk back into my office and take my seat back behind my table. It still doesn’t feel right calling it my desk. It was and always will be my grandfather’s. I start to open the envelope not helping but thinking of where I can take Isla on our next trip; maybe we could go to Venice, she’s always said she wants to go there. I hear paper slide through the air above the table and when I look at the contents landing on the wooden desk my heart stops beating and my blood turns cold. I would recognise that light brown hair anywhere, the light blue top that matches my daughter’s eyes perfectly making her look like a princess, stares back at me from the table.
Oh God. My body turns to ice as my blood continues to travel through my veins but I can feel the heat encase me in my own sauna. There’s a note, why don’t I want to pick the note up? Because as soon as I do I’m going to know my baby is in danger.
I shouldn’t have let her go, I should have kept her close no matter how much she would have fought me. With shaky fingers I manage to pick it up, sickness threatening to engulf me as sweat rolls down my brow as I turn it over.
WE’LL BE IN TOUCH.
I can see the paper move as it stays within my shaky fingers, not believing what I’m seeing.
Someone has my baby and I can feel the vice squeezing and cutting into my heart. The pain is immense and I have no idea what to do first.
I want to kill the fucker who has my baby with my bare hands.
My baby.
“Roxanne, can you please get all three of my boys on the line” I shout through the door as I start to run my fingers through my hair, pulling at each of the strands as I go.
Oh shit, Isla was right. Oh God, how am I going to tell her, how am I going to tell the boys. My breath keeps catching in the back of my throat as the vice continues to squeeze and I’m sure my heart is no more.
My poor baby, my poor little girl.
I’ll fucking kill whoever has my daughter.