Chapter 75
Chapter 75:
“Oh! Gaston!” Her tone shifted instantly to syrupy delight. “To what do we owe the pleasure p>
“Where is Jocelyn p>
“Jocelyn?” Elouise laughed, a nervous tinkle. “Oh, she left hours ago. Didn’t she call you? Such a busy girl p>
Gaston looked at Leo. Leo shook his head and pointed to the screen showing the signal had terminated at the estate. She hadn’t left. She was still there, and her phone was off. And Elouise was lying.
“You’re lying,” Gaston said. His voice was deadly quiet, stripped of all polite inflection.
Elouise stammered. “Excuse me? I certainly am n p>
Gaston hung up. He looked at the pilot, who was walking down the aisle with a coffee pot.
“Turn the plane around,” Gaston said.
The pilot blinked. “Sir? We’re an hour out over the Atlantic. We don’t have the fuel to make it back to New York. We’d have to land in Boston p>
“Land in Boston. Have a helicopter waiting on the tarmac. Now p>
Th𝘦 𝘮o𝘀t 𝘱𝗈рu𝗅аr n𝗈𝘃еl𝘀 о𝗇
“Sir, the fuel costs alone p>
“Do it,” Gaston roared, standing up. The contracts scattered across the floor. “Or I buy this airline just to fire you p>
The pilot turned white and ran to the cockpit.
Two hours later, Gaston sat in the back of a Sikorsky helicopter, thundering through the night sky toward Long Island. The city lights blurred below him.
He dialed the local police chief — a man whose pension fund was managed by Collins Bank.
“Chief. It’s Collins p>
“Mr. Collins? Is everything alright p>
“I want a unit at the Schneider estate. I have reason to believe my wife is being held there against her will. I need an immediate welfare check. I’m five minutes out p>
“Against her will? Sir, are you sure p>
“If I get there before you do,” Gaston said, staring at the approaching coastline, “there won’t be anyone left to arrest p>
At the estate, Robert checked his watch.
“Go get her, Cory. She’s had enough p>
Cory grunted and went down to the cellar. He unlocked the door.
“Rise and shine, princess,” he sneered, swinging it open.
Jocelyn didn’t move. She was curled on top of a wine crate, her skin pale as marble, her lips a terrifying shade of blue.
Cory kicked the crate. “Quit faking p>
She didn’t react.
Cory felt a flicker of panic. He touched her arm. It was like touching a corpse.
“Dad!” Cory yelled, his voice cracking. “Dad! She’s not waking up p>
Robert came running down. He checked her pulse. It was thready and weak.
“Damn it,” Robert hissed. “If she dies, we lose the shares. We lose the trust p>
“What do we do?” Elouise wailed from the top of the stairs.
“Drag her out,” Robert said, his pragmatism chilling. “Put her in her car. Drive it into a ditch down the road. We’ll say she drank too much — look at the spilled wine — and crashed. An accident p>
Just then, a deep, rhythmic thumping vibrated through the stone walls. It grew louder, a mechanical roar that shook the wine bottles in their racks.