This case has been particularly frustrating because it’s easy to create theories. But accumulating evidence is difficult if not impossible. I hope our game plan works. We need whoever is behind this to make a mistake.

“Do you want to stay here tonight, or do you want to go home?” He looks out over the balcony. I glance over my shoulder. I can see others near various windows, phones pressed to their ears.

“Jack will hold a press conference within an hour, don’t you think?”

“I do. The only reason they aren’t parked outside his house is because this is a gated community. But every major news station is parked outside those gates.”

“Let’s stay. If this works, I think it’s gonna go down fast.”

CHAPTER 20

145 Hours Missing

Ryan

A replay of Jack Sullivan’s announcement plays on the muted television screen. The caption below the replay reads “Billionaire Jackson Sullivan Offers $100 Million for Safe Return of His Daughter.”

Two FBI agents remain in the house, conversing in the kitchen. Jack leans his head back against his office chair. His hair holds a greasy sheen, and his closed eyelids highlight dark circles. Gray whiskers mix with black ones all along his unshaven jaw.

“By doing this, I just ensured a degree of danger to every single billionaire’s family in the world.”

Alex’s downturned lips and sad, forest green eyes convey the weight of guilt. She must agree with him.

While it’s hard to harbor sympathy for someone who has amassed an obscene amount of money, no one should fear for their loved ones every single day. Regardless, Alex’s idea to turn the tables is a solid one. Later, when the case is dissected, many will argue that her recommendation represents out-of-the-box thinking that could save a life.

She didn’t recommend the one hundred million bounty. That’s a figure Jack came up with all on his own. To him, fifty million felt like too small of an amount. We’d all watched from the sidelines as he pleaded for his daughter to come home safely. His tearful, heartfelt message rang clear—he wants his daughter back, at any cost. The high dollar amount offered pissed the hell out of Ryland.

Jack’s phone rings. The ring tone is set to the loudest setting, and the shrill sound spills out of the open office doors and echoes in the open marble foyer. Alarmed, he stares at me, and I nod. Pick it up. He glances down at the phone, then shakes his head.

“It’s my uncle.”

The phone number he gave to call is being answered by employees at his PR agency. The other FBI agents left to sit with those employees to track any calls that come in. The chances that a phone call related to Sophia will go directly to Jack’s personal cell are low. But it doesn’t mean each time his phone rings his heart doesn’t jump start. Or that we aren’t dealing with someone who has his personal cell number.