Chapter 20 - The Airport Trap
I reached Logan Airport with the kind of calm that only exists when rage becomes too large to show.
Bradford Wellington sat inside a private security office surrounded by federal agents.
Alexander’s passport rested on the table.
So did an airline ticket to Lisbon.
Passenger name:
Alexander Cross.
My son was three years old.
He was safe at Cross Manor.
But someone had prepared to move a child bearing his identity overseas.
Bradford looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Thin.
Terrified.
The arrogance I remembered from Allison’s wedding had disappeared.
“What were you planning?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I slapped the ticket onto the table.
“My son’s name is on this.”
“I didn’t make it.”
“Then why are you carrying it?”
Bradford looked toward Ethan.
“Because they told me to.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan leaned over him.
“Wrong answer.”
Bradford recoiled.
“I swear!”
“You met Reeves.”
“Yes.”
“You worked with Vale.”
“No.”
“Allison saw you.”
“I met a man who said he represented Vale.”
“Name.”
“He called himself Grant.”
Marcus checked records.
Nothing.
Bradford started crying.
It would have been pathetic if the situation weren’t terrifying.
“I was broke. The Wellington estate was gone. My father blamed me for everything. I needed money.”
“So you sold access to my family?”
“I didn’t know they would threaten Alexander!”
“You copied Patricia’s security card.”
“Yes.”
My jaw tightened.
“You let them into my home.”
“I thought they only wanted documents.”
Ethan stepped back before he did something irreversible.
I remained seated.
“Why the passport?”
Bradford swallowed.
“They told me to fly to Lisbon.”
“With Alexander’s identity?”
“With a child.”
The room went silent.
“What child?”
“I never met him.”
My blood turned cold.
“They wanted a child resembling Alexander?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Bradford shook his head frantically.
“I don’t know.”
I did.
“They wanted us to believe Alexander had been kidnapped.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“A decoy.”
“To force us into panic.”
Marcus immediately called Cross Manor.
Alexander remained safe.
Then another agent entered.
“We recovered something from Wellington’s luggage.”
A burner phone.
Only one message remained.
BOARD FLIGHT 714.
HANDLER WILL DELIVER PACKAGE.
DESTINATION LISBON.
AFTER DEPARTURE, SEND VIDEO TO CROSS.
I stared at the screen.
“Package means child.”
The agent nodded.
Flight 714 boarded in forty minutes.
We sealed the international terminal.
Agents searched every family.
Every employee.
Every service corridor.
Nothing.
Then Allison arrived.
She marched directly into the security office and slapped Bradford across the face.
The sound cracked through the room.
“You disgusting coward.”
He stared at her.
“Allison—”
“You used a child?”
“I didn’t know!”
“You never know, Bradford. That’s always your excuse.”
Her voice broke.
“My entire life, I blamed Meredith when things went wrong because admitting I was selfish hurt too much.”
She pointed at him.
“You’re doing the same thing.”
Bradford lowered his head.
Allison turned toward me.
“What can I do?”
“Think.”
“About what?”
“Bradford’s contacts. Anyone he mentioned after Lisbon.”
She shut her eyes.
Then opened them.
“The nanny.”
My pulse jumped.
“What nanny?”
“He asked me months ago whether Meredith still used the same nanny.”
Ethan immediately called Marcus’s team at the manor.
No answer from the nanny.
My heart stopped.
“Where is Alexander?”
A security officer answered.
“With Patricia.”
I exhaled.
“And the nanny?”
“Left twenty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“She received a family emergency.”
Marcus traced her phone.
Logan Airport.
Terminal E.
My blood froze.
We found her inside a restroom.
Crying.
Alone.
She had been blackmailed.
Someone threatened her brother unless she brought Alexander to an airport pickup point.
She refused.
Then fled.
“Who contacted you?” I asked.
“A woman.”
“Name?”
“She never gave one.”
“Voice?”
“Older. American.”
She handed us the burner phone they had sent her.
One unsent video file remained cached.
Marcus opened it.
A woman appeared wearing sunglasses.
Only half her face showed.
But I recognized the voice.
My mother did too when I played it for her.
She whispered the name.
“Cynthia.”
“Who?”
Patricia stared at me.
“Cynthia Reeves.”
Senator Reeves’s daughter.
I knew the name.
A celebrated child-welfare attorney.
Television commentator.
Political donor.
She had built her career protecting children.
And she had just tried to use mine as leverage.
Federal agents found her thirty minutes later.
Sitting aboard Flight 714.
Waiting for a child who never arrived.
When she was escorted off the plane in handcuffs, she looked directly at me.
“You destroyed my father.”
“No.”
I stared back.
“He did that himself.”
Her expression twisted.
“This isn’t finished.”
May you like
Behind her, Allison quietly took my hand.
For the first time since we were children, I let her.
