“Oh,” she sighed dramatically.
“It’s you.”
“Where’s Emily?” Richard asked.
Victoria rolled her eyes.
“She’s having one of her episodes.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“Move.”
“Honestly, Colonel Hayes, she became hysterical again. Ethan is trying to calm her down.”
Richard stepped forward.
Victoria planted one manicured hand against his chest.
“This isn’t your house.”
“You don’t belong here.”
Without raising his voice, Richard gently removed her hand from his jacket.
He didn’t shove her.
He simply walked past her.
She stumbled backward anyway.
“You can’t just barge in here!”
He ignored her.
The house was decorated for Easter.
White lilies filled crystal vases.
Pastel ribbons wrapped around expensive centerpieces.
Silver serving trays overflowed with desserts.
Soft classical music drifted through hidden speakers.
It looked like the cover of a luxury magazine.
Then Richard saw his daughter.
Emily lay motionless on a white living room rug.
One side of her face was grotesquely swollen.
Her left eye had nearly swollen shut.
Blood matted the hair above her temple.
She struggled to breathe.
Richard crossed the room in seconds.
He dropped to one knee.
Military instincts he’d relied upon for decades returned instantly.
Airway.
Breathing.
Pulse.
Her pulse was weak.
As he gently lifted her chin, he noticed dark red fingerprints wrapped around her neck.
Not bruises from falling.
Marks left by someone’s hands.
Someone had tried to strangle her.
A voice interrupted the silence.
“She tripped.”
Richard looked up.
Ethan Caldwell stood several feet away adjusting the cuff of his tailored suit as though nothing unusual had happened.
“She lost her balance.”
His voice was calm.
Almost bored.
Richard looked back at Emily’s neck.
Then at Ethan.
“So she strangled herself on the way down?”
For the first time, Ethan’s smile faded.
Only slightly.
Victoria glanced at the blood soaking into the white rug.
She sighed with irritation.
“What a shame.”
Richard looked at her.
“The rug?”
She nodded.
“That Persian rug cost more than that old pickup truck you drove here.”
Richard didn’t answer.
Instead, he carefully slid one arm beneath Emily’s shoulders and another beneath her knees.
She whimpered as he lifted her.
“I’m taking my daughter.”
Ethan laughed.
A quiet, confident laugh.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
