Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“But you didn’t get that,” she said.
“Not at the time, no. But I was the one who’d originally sent your father to Baudelaire when he’d expressed his deep sadness at having to sell some family heirlooms to pay his debts. Baudelaire paid him far more than they were worth. I’m certain it’s why he returned to him years later to sell the final item he’d kept—your mother’s ring. Baudelaire noticed that he seemed . . . unwell. Desperate. He needed a priest, truth be told. But Baudelaire bought his bauble, and then he called me and suggested I reach out.”
“For therapy.”
“A yearly check-in, I told him, and he didn’t question it. Maybe, to him, it seemed serendipitous. He was having a nervous breakdown. He asked me about medication. I suggested we talk first. He was driving when I called him. I told him to pull over and compose himself and then come straight here. I’d heard that Fontane’s son, Evan, had gone missing. Could that possibly be related to Mr. Meyer’s deeply agitated state? The timing was interesting. Anyway,” he looked at Noelle. “Your father said he’d gotten involved in something he couldn’t get out of. Something online. He’d had his friend hack a site where they hurt people. That’s when I knew it involved them. I knew. But that’s all he would say.”
The words pierced her heart even though she and Evan had already figured out that her father had been responsible for Evan’s abduction. But to have it confirmed seared her soul. Her father had set Evan up as a victim in one of their brutal games. “You didn’t know about the games then,” she said. “When my father told you he’d discovered something . . . you hoped it would lead to Evan’s father, to . . . Fontane . . . and the others. It was a stroke of luck, your chance to avenge your mother’s and sister’s deaths.”
“Very good, little rabbit. But I wouldn’t attribute it to luck. I’d positioned myself well. But it was my chance, yes. I’d waited a long, long time. They’d moved their lust for blood sport here, and I had finally been presented with an in.”
Evan released a breath. “Did you kill Dow Maginn?”
“Of course. You had been abducted,” he said to Evan. “Mr. Meyer saw you in the cage and immediately regretted what he had done. His hatred had gotten the best of him. He sold that ring hoping he could buy your freedom, but, of course, that’s not the way the game is played. And even if it was, ten thousand dollars is petty cash to those men. Mind you, I only pieced all those details together later. I see you’re not shocked, which means you’ve deduced some of it too.”
Noelle nodded, even while tears burned the backs of her eyes.
“Fontane logged in and expected to see a stranger in a cage at the start of another game and instead saw his own son. He went to the big bosses, or the midlevel bosses, you might say. The originals are highly insulated and only emerge once a year. They told him the game was already started, bets had been made, money put on the line. They were even angry he had the audacity to assume who ruled the game. Fontane’s father was long dead, and he had been nothing but a mere boy when they’d immigrated to the United States. I imagine the fact that he’d gotten himself embroiled in a high-profile investigation and trial didn’t ingratiate him to those men. No, Evan was staying, his captivity was underway, and the first days of darkness while the players placed their initial bets had commenced. Some captives screamed and begged during that time, chewed at their hair, banged their heads. All things that helped players determine how much money they’d first put on the line. How could they admit to these men that a mistake had been made? That a nobody had hacked in and put them all at risk? Trust in the system would be gravely compromised, and to play such a game, trust in the system is paramount. The players wondered, of course, at the contestant who was chosen, the son of a player. But that, too, turned out to be a boon, as it was assumed to be payback for some transgression. And so it acted as a warning and naturally helped tighten internal security. As some reconciliation to your father, however, they did allow him a request: to match Evan with the contestant of his choice. Fontane chose Noelle.”
She brought her hand to her mouth, holding back her tears. Oh God, oh God. It was the very definition of evil.
Her head swam, her muscles ached from holding them so tight. And the only reason she wasn’t slumping over with the weight of her grief was because Evan was holding her up. His solid body. The love and support she could feel emanating from him.