Page 22 of Ransom for His Secret Son

The walls were covered with photos, newspaper clippings and maps connected by lines of red string like some twisted spiderweb. Notes were scrawled in sharp handwriting across sticky notes, pinned over articles about Tarrant Eddington. There were possible sightings, police reports, surveillance photos. More papers—PI reports, Remi realized—were stacked neatly on a side table, but even from where she stood, she could see the wear on the pages. They’d been read. Over and over.

Christina turned, her expression carefully controlled, but there was something raw underneath it. A flash of obsession that she didn’t bother to hide.

“This is what I do with my spare time,” Christina said quietly. “Every day. I’ve got two PIs actively searching for him right now. But it’s never enough.”

She crossed the room and tapped a photo pinned near the center of the chaos. Tarrant’s face stared back, arrogant even in a candid shot, like he knew no one could touch him.

“That’s why I believe I was sent the text,” Christina continued, her voice low but steady. “Whoever has your son knows I’ll do whatever it takes to help. They know I’ll use every resource I have.”

Remi’s stomach twisted. The room was a shrine to hate, to loss—and maybe to guilt. But something didn’t sit right.

What if she’s out of resources?

The thought came roaring through Remi’s mind. What if Christina had hit a dead end, burned through money, investigators and leads and then decided to play dirty? To force Brody and Remi into doing what her hired help couldn’t.

Remi didn’t trust coincidences. Not when it came to someone like Christina Turner.

She kept her expression neutral, but her mind raced. Because if Christina had orchestrated this, if she were behind the nightmare Brody was living, then the woman wasn’t just obsessed.

She was dangerous.

The woman went to another board on the right side of the room and motioned toward the photos of Dr. Langley and Eloise. Langley had gotten the sticky note treatment, too, and there were details of sightings of him when Christina or the PIs had thought Langley might be meeting Tarrant.

Remi could see that none of those sightings had produced results. So Langley was either innocent or careful.

Brody’s eyes stayed locked on the crime board, his jaw tight, tension rolling off him in waves. Then he turned that hard gaze on Christina.

“Other than Eloise Davenport and you,” he said, “who hates Tarrant enough—and has the capabilities—to put something like this together? Who would use my son to get Tarrant?”

Christina’s mouth twitched into a dry smile as if the and you didn’t surprise her. She didn’t bother denying it. Instead, she crossed the room, opened a sleek cabinet and pulled out a thick file.

“This,” she said, dropping it onto the table with a heavy thud, “is a list of everyone I could find who might want Tarrant dead.”

Remi stepped forward, flipping through the pages. Names, dates, brief notes were scribbled in the margins. Connections to Tarrant were listed, some distant, along with some barely existent links like the person who’d once given him a manicure. Remi recognized many of them. Heck, she had a similar list in her own files. But none of the names jumped out. No red flags. No obvious suspects. Just a sea of possibilities.

Remi dragged in a long breath. “Too many names to dig through, hundreds of them,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Brody agreed, and he re-aimed that glare at Christina. Remi glanced at Brody, then back at Christina. “We don’t have time to chase every lead,” he added. “Narrow it down. Give us your top candidates.”

Christina’s eyes flickered with something—calculation, maybe—but she nodded. “Fine.”

Christina flipped through the file until she landed on a page near the middle. She tapped it with her manicured finger. “Mellie Freemont,” she said. “Tarrant was seeing her when he was married to my sister. The breakup was…bad.”

Remi leaned in, scanning the notes scribbled next to Mellie’s name. She knew the name well and had investigated her during the early days of the search for Tarrant.

“I looked into her,” Remi admitted. “I came up with nothing. No solid connections, no signs she was involved with Tarrant’s disappearance a year ago. She didn’t seem like she had the stomach for something like this.”

Christina’s mouth curved into another humorless smile. “Well, maybe you should look again. She went missing a week ago.”

Remi straightened, her pulse kicking up. “Missing?”

Christina nodded. “No one’s seen her. Stopped showing up to work, no activity on her accounts. It’s possible she set this whole thing in motion and then went underground.”

Brody didn’t hesitate. He yanked out his phone. Since Remi was standing next to him she saw him send off a text to his deputy.

Jolene, start digging into Mellie Freemont. Last known address, work history, friends, family. Anything that can give us a lead. She’s missing, and we need to find her.

The message sent with a soft chime, but the tension in the room stayed thick until Remi broke it. “Who else could be behind this?” she asked.