"I hope you're right," Jessica said. "Listen, just call when you're on your way. I don't know if we'll be in the hospital or home, so—"

"Sure. I'll give you a ring when I'm on my way, let you know when to expect me."

"Thanks, Rick. I really appreciate it."

After he finished the call with Jessica, he powered Leslie's burner off. Hunter, sick. That wasn't okay, not at all. Rick would try to step up the timeline to get there as soon as possible.

He'd been waiting for Boyle's friends to leave most of the day, and he couldn't wait any longer. Who cared if they were there when he called? Maybe that's exactly what they were waiting for. If that was the case, they'd leave when the call came in.

Might as well give them what they wanted. Make them feel like they had some control.

He snatched his burner phone and dialed.

Chapter 29

MARISA'S PHONE RANG.

She pulled it out of her pocket while the others gathered around the kitchen table where they'd been eating an early dinner.

The few bites Marisa had taken of the lasagna Sam had brought turned in her stomach as she met Nate's eyes.

"Go ahead," he said.

She connected the call. "Hello."

"Did you get my money?"

"Almost."

"Almost doesn't cut it."

"I want to speak with Ana."

"You talk to her when I say."

Her heart raced, but she wasn't backing down. "You won't get a penny if I don't talk to my daughter."

"Have you forgotten who makes the rules? I do. You don't speak to your daughter until—"

"If you want to see one red cent of that money, you'll put my daughter on the phone. Now!"

Her entire body trembled. She glanced at her friends. Their wide eyes and open mouths told her she'd gone too far.

Silence on the other end of the phone. Had he hung up? Had she killed Ana?

"Whatever," Rick said. "Hold on."

Marisa's heart restarted. Barely. She met Nate's eyes and nodded.

His hand slid around her back, and he leaned in to listen. Marisa glanced at the expectant faces around the table and attempted a smile. She stared back at the table and begged God as she listened to sounds coming through the phone. A door closed—sounded like a screen. Then it was quiet. Then a door creaked.

"Come here, kid. Talk to your mother."

"Mama?"

Ana's little voice drifted from far away.

The man's voice came back. "Did you hear that?"

Marisa wasn't settling for that. It could have been a recording. "Put her on the phone."

"You can talk to her when I get my money."

"Put her on the phone right now, or you'll get nothing. For all I know, you recorded her voice."

"Pretty demanding for someone holding none of the cards."

Her ire rose. She waited until she knew she could speak calmly. "I'm holding two million cards. Put my daughter on the phone."