The downtown Greek Revival church of stained glass and faux mourners tolled its bells eleven times. Isla was contained but aware. Whenever she was with the families, she’d shelf her emotions. Even in her current setting, Isla didn’t shed a tear or quiver her lip. She was sad about Ellis, but too many other situations saturated her feelings.
Jules was instructed to text Isla every thirty minutes. She glanced down at her phone. Almost time for another check-in. Her concentration was muddled. All she thought about was Jules. She felt off, and not because of the memorial or the media circus out front. Isla sensed a presence; the phantom Joe spoke about.
Isla scanned the first few pews. The bosses of the sister companies sat stoically with their families, cradling a Bible, pacifying the Lord’s command with prayer on their lips. Pastor Randolph rambled on. The stench of judgment and incense burned her nostrils.
What was worse, organized crime or organized religion? Was there a difference? Isla didn’t pretend to be sanctimonious. She didn’t sing hymns on Sunday and embezzle money on Tuesday.
Mr. Thomas Birk, president of Calvin Health Group, did. Sitting in the third row, Isla watched him check his watch. His sin was insurance fraud, and he knew how to hide his money trail. Thomas’s son-in-law was their accountant. Probable, but she locked onto Martin and Mia. His smug mouth and her arched pencil brow both glared at Isla.
Pastor Randolph announced the reading of Ellis’s eulogy.
Carys stood and smoothed down her dress, her dark tresses tied back into a sleek ponytail. Holding a folded piece of paper, she glimpsed at Isla. “You have this, Scarlett,” Isla whispered. A small smile teased the corner of Carys’s lips, and she walked up the green-carpeted steps to the podium.
She unfolded the paper and cleared her throat. “My father was a man of authority, and he ruled with an iron fist. At times, my siblings and I caught glimpses of his gentler side when one of us fell ill or was injured, though it was short-lived. He taught Reed and me how to broker deals by the age of fourteen.” Carys paused. “He ruled with an iron fist.”
She turned the paper over and skimmed the pews of their corporate family. Isla knew what was coming next, but they didn’t.
“My father also taught me that family is the most important thing until there is betrayal. Once those boundaries are crossed, there’s no redemption. Trust is the foundation of family. Minor cracks here and there can be repaired, but only for so long. The foundation will crumble.” A shadow crossed Carys’s face. “Amaranthine means everlasting, just like the Pierce family. Unified, we’ll extinguish all who threaten us. We will not crumble, and for those who try, they will fail. We will protect whom we deem trustworthy. For the rest, death is only the beginning.”
Not a single sound was made.
Carys didn’t give a eulogy. She delivered a warning.
In perfect lady etiquette, she paused at her father’s photo and expressed her gratitude by placing a kiss upon his cheek, then returned to the seat next to Reed. Isla leaned over and patted her leg. Reed nodded. Something wasn’t right. She hid her wonderment and looked away from Carys, knowing she’d see right through her.
Where was Gavin?
Isla didn’t notice his absence earlier, but admittedly, she was preoccupied checking her phone every few minutes.
“Please bow your heads for the Lord’s Prayer,” Pastor Randolph instructed. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”
Her phone vibrated. She swiped the screen.
Restricted: Excuse yourself. Follow the hallway left of the entrance to the last classroom named Mrs. Stikes. Enter the classroom. Go to the door that leads outside. Tell no one!
Isla’s face drained of all color. She quickly responded.
Isla: Who is this?
Restricted: I have Jules.
With pressure under her ribcage, Isla read the statement over and over again. Her fear was realized. Panic clawed up her throat. She suppressed her scream. Someone had her daughter. Someone knew Jules would not be within arms-reach of Isla. Someone knew where she’d be. Gavin.
Isla slipped her phone into her purse and leaned toward Reed.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered.
“Everything all right?”
“I need to use the ladies room.”
He turned his head a bit more in her direction. Isla hated lying to him again, but Jules was in danger, and clearly, Gavin was watching her every move. Bastard. Isla knew his confession was empty. She stood, adjusted her trousers, and lightly stepped down the side aisle. The toes of her sling-backs glided over the floor. Her thoughts about what she was going to do to him weren’t lovely, and she waited for God to strike her down before reaching the doors. She paid no attention to who was observing her quiet exit. Most still had their heads bowed and their eyes closed. Isla slowly opened the heavy door to the narthex. No sign of Gavin. She could hear media commotion out front.
Isla’s breath stuttered, and she looked down the dim hallway. She walked past the church office. Silence rang in her ears as murals and scripture-scrawled halls guided her closer to the last classroom. Isla stopped at the door and grabbed the handle. Her heart throbbed like someone was fisting the organ, squeezing the life from it.
A pendulum of frenzy and rage swung inside her. Pounding. Echoing. She pushed the door open. The classroom was empty. Her phone vibrated. Isla pulled it out from the inside pocket and slid down the screen.
Restricted: Time is running out.
Dammit.
She hurried across the classroom, weaving through the desks. Isla pushed the emergency exit door. Grey clouds spun above the steeple. She peered through the wood tower playset. The swings swayed with each gust of wind, and beyond the small playground was a black SUV, just like the one Jules rode in at Ellis’s safe house. Like the one Henry was killed in.
The driver’s side door opened, and Gavin stepped out. Red. Isla saw nothing but red.