That forced me to take a breath. Paramedics were speeding my best friend to a hospital, and Belle was...
“Malcolm Byrne has been stalking Belle for years,” I said in a controlled tone. “He’s obsessed with her. Two years ago, he manipulated us into breaking up, and five years before that, he attacked Belle and Carter in the woods—wounding him.
“By the time I came to and raced down the hill, all I saw was a black car speeding off in a cloud of dust, but you can be sure Byrne is responsible for our dead friend in the dirt.”
Ortiz was a stocky, balding man with leathery skin and heavy-lidded eyes. His partner, Hanson, was tall with a hawk nose and long, fine red hair. What they had in common was the matching notepads they were standing there scribbling in, instead of taking action.
“But you didn’t actually see this Malcolm?” Detective Ortiz asked.
Balling my fists, I seriously considered going down for assaulting an officer. Didn’t I just say I only saw the car? How much time are we going to waste on stupid questions!?
I was bursting out of my skin to go after Belle. After getting to her too late, I ran inside—dialing 911—to get help and car keys. Hendrix spilled his tea on his lap when I busted in on him and Rosalie having breakfast in the solarium.
Rosalie fell over herself rushing to Preston and wouldn’t let me go anywhere until I told her everything, and then repeated the story to the cops. Any chance I had of chasing the car down was gone, and if fucking Ortiz and Hanson were on the case, Belle needed me more than ever.
“No, I didn’t see him,” I gritted out. “Belle described him as dark-haired, tall, and unnaturally handsome. Someone like that blows onto a small island, people have to notice.”
Hanson shook her head. “Tall, dark, and handsome isn’t as rare as you think. You could be described the same,” she said. “Do you have anything else for us to go on? Age? Identifying marks? Tattoos? Proof he’s even on the island?”
“Your proof is on the way to the morgue,” I snapped. “Belle made it sound like he was pretty distinctive. He would’ve had to feel out the security team to find the bastard who would flip. Ask them if a guy like that approached them.”
A commotion sounded in the hallway. On the other side of the glass-paneled solarium doors, Carter struggled with officers.
“Let me in! Nathan? Nathan, what’s going on?” he shouted. “They said Preston was attacked and Belle’s gone.”
“Let him in,” I said.
Ortiz gestured for them to let him pass.
Carter blew in, bearing down on me. “Is it true?”
I nodded.
“Fuck!” He shoved away, stalking back and forth like a caged animal. “Is it him?”
“Has to be.”
“We have to find her.” Carter spun on the detectives. “You have to get out there and find her now!”
“Calm down, sir,” said Ortiz. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Carter Knight and the scar you eyed twice since I got in the room was a gift from Malcolm Byrne. He cannot get away with her!”
“We understand the seriousness of the—”
“You don’t understand! You don’t know who he is.”
Hanson stepped in their path. “Enlighten us.”
“He— He’s— Hold on.”
Carter ran out the door.
The detectives watched him go and then turned back to me.
“Can you think of any other possible suspects or motives?” Hanson asked. “Does Belle or her family have enemies that you know of? Could there be a financial motive?”
“No. I’m telling you it’s Malcolm.”
We went back and forth—them insisting they had to be thorough while Belle got farther and farther away.
“Mrs. Desai, could your son have been the target and Miss Adler taken because she got in the way?”
Rosalie clutched her chest. “Of course not. No one would wish to harm my son. He doesn’t have an enemy in the world.” She got to her feet. “If that’s quite enough, there’s been a murder on my property, one of my guests was kidnapped, and my son is alone in the hospital. He needs me, and I quite agree with Nathan, you should be out there looking for the man responsible for this.”
“Yes, ma’am, we understand. If you’d bear with us for a little—”
Carter blew in on another cloud of agitation. In his hand, he held something I couldn’t make out.
“Okay, listen, and don’t interrupt,” he began. “We’ve wasted enough fucking time.”
Ortiz opened his mouth. “We’re not wasting—”
“Listen,” he sliced in. “The first thing you need to know is Belle is adopted.”
I rocked back. “What?”
“It’s true. Technically, it’s true. Tobias and Cecilia Lewis-Adler are her biological great-aunt and great-uncle. Belle’s grandmother was Cecilia’s sister.
“Belle’s mom lost her parents shortly after she graduated college. They left her money and a home, so Cecilia and Tobias didn’t think she needed their support. They were wrong,” he said. “She fell in with Belle’s father, Patrick Quinn. Patrick was a decent guy who treated her well, but he worked for the Byrne family. They were the Irish mob that controlled their town.
“Her mom was five months’ pregnant with Belle when Patrick was killed in a job gone wrong, and she was left alone and vulnerable. Malcolm fucking Byrne was on her before his body was cold—going on about the family being there for Patrick’s girl, and she and Belle would always be taken care of. She married him a year later.”
Hanson frowned. “You’re saying Malcolm Byrne is Miss Adler’s stepfather.”
“Yes. An abusive, controlling, jealous prick of a stepfather who beat Belle’s mom whenever he was drunk. The guy was paranoid and delusional. If she was two minutes late coming home from the supermarket, he accused her of cheating. When Belle was five, she finally had enough. One night, she put Belle in the car and made a run for it. She didn’t know he had his men tailing her at that point.
“They woke Malcolm up and chased her across town. The guy went crazy, ramming the back of her car until she spun out and crashed into the guardrail. She died on impact.”
Horror leaded my bones. I sank onto a chair, breaths shortening as the rest of Belle’s story unfolded.
“Belle survived the crash, but the collisions messed up Malcolm’s brakes. He crashed too and bashed his head on the steering wheel. His men pulled him unconscious from the car and fled with him. Belle sat there alone for hours until someone drove past the accident and called the police. The ironic part is those shits probably saved her life.
“Malcolm was furious when he woke up. A mess over killing his wife and raging that the only part left of her was safely in the hands of child services and out of his reach. He got himself off the murder charge by making his men swear he was with them all night. Then he set to work.
“He wanted Belle back, and damn, did he try. Lawyers, corrupt cops, bought judges. Malcolm did everything to get custody of her, but he couldn’t get around his wife’s will specifically naming Tobias and Cecilia as the ones to take guardianship if anything happened to her. As the case dragged out, it also became clear something wasn’t right with Malcolm.”