His Son. Her Secret.

Chapter 6

“No such thing as good news anymore,” Mal muttered, finally deciding to join the conversation.

Belle ignored her. “I checked missing persons reports, hospital alerts, police chatter… Nothing. There are no reports of a missing child that matches him.”

Beth’s stomach twisted. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” she confirmed with a nod.

That wasn’t good. That was worse. Belle looked down at the kid who was now lying back against her legs, looking up at her with a goofy smile. Beth could help return the smile even as silence settled over the room like a lead blanket.

Then Belle continued. “And there is more,” she added slowly, eyes flicking to Beth, “I didn’t cut the camera feed in the warehouse leading to the basement.”

Beth froze.

Avi straightened. “What?”

Belle lifted a hand. “In my defense, I didn’t expect someone to go rogue and pick up a whole child mid-job.”

Oh yeah. That had been her. Beth winced and dropped her gaze.

“So,” Belle went on, tapping at her keyboard, "That's to say there’s footage. Of the basement. And possibly…” she glanced up, “Of Beth leaving with him.”

The room went very still.

“But there were two men there with the child. Wouldn’t they have erased the footage to protect themselves?” Avi asked quietly.

Belle exhaled. “I fear that the bad guys either owned the warehouse or had full access to it, and they are the ones who are going to review that footage to find out who took their golden goose. They will see Beth and… Well. I don’t need to help you imagine the rest.”

Mal swore under her breath. She tossed the knife onto the chopping board and turned to glare at Beth.

Beth tightened her hold on the baby, who shifted slightly but didn’t protest.

“Can you erase it?” Avi asked after a beat, her brain clearly working in fix-it mode now..

Belle nodded slowly, which wasn’t reassuring, and her words backed up the feeling. “Yeah… But it’s not instant. It appears they had a different system running inside the warehouse, and this one isn’t garbage like the outside security I played with. It’s almost as good as Luxury Shipping’s. It’ll take time to get in again and go deeper, find the right segments, and wipe everything clean without leaving a trace.”

That wasn’t reassuring in the least. “How much time?” Beth asked.

Belle hesitated. That hesitation said everything. “Time we might not have.”

***

Cold. Anger. Frustration. Despair. Those were all emotions Santiago had become overly familiar with, and they washed over him like a tsunami as he watched himself on the 98-inch 8K TV mounted on the wall.

Standing in the middle of his living room, his gaze locked on the screen like it was the only thing holding him upright. His reflection stared back at him. He looked composed. Controlled. A man in a tailored suit standing behind a podium, microphones angled toward him like weapons. Cameras flashed. Voices overlapped. Questions were thrown like stones. It was all a lie. A mask. One he’d worn so many times in board meetings and when he had to deal with his family.

‘Mr. Burns, do you believe this was a targeted k********g?’

‘Is your son still alive?’

‘Do you fear you will lose your son like you did your wife?’

‘Are you cooperating fully with authorities?’

The questions had hit every nerve and still did two hours later. Santiago watched himself answer like a well-rehearsed politician.

‘Despite the tireless efforts of law enforcement, we have not made any significant progress in the last forty-eight hours…’

He was almost proud of how firm and steady his voice sounded. Almost. But there was no pride to be had in the situation, especially not when a picture of his son suddenly filled the screen, even his voice carried on in the background.

The image was of his son sitting on the floor of the very living room he was standing in, surrounded by plush cream sofas and oversized throws. A toy car was clutched in his small hand, curls falling into his bright eyes, a smile caught mid-laugh.

If Santiago turned his head just a little, he would see that same car sitting on a wooden playmat kept in the corner of the room for his son. Santiago’s throat tightened. He reached for the remote and muted the television.

Silence immediately swallowed the room, thick and suffocating. For a long moment, he just stared at the image of Kaleth that had now been minimized so it covered the left corner of the screen, memorizing every detail of the boy’s face like he hadn’t already done it a thousand times since Kaleth was born.

Right then, the sound of footsteps approaching behind him caught his attention, but he didn't turn to check who it was.

“You do know that you are going to get a lot of calls after this, right?” Derrick asked, his voice quiet as he entered the room. “And most of them will be garbage.”

Santiago didn’t respond.

Derrick stepped closer, glancing at the screen. “People get excited when money is involved. Wakes up all the sewer rats as well.”

Santiago’s jaw flexed. “I know,” he said, his voice low and rough as though he'd swallowed gravel. “I know how this works.” He had known that the chances of getting any real help from the public after offering a cash reward were lower than zero, but they'd been out of options, and the police had suggested it was a way to stir some response from the kidnappers. Whether that response would be good or bad was still a toss-up.

Derrick studied him for a second, then nodded slowly. “Alright.” Before he could say anything else, the sound of more footsteps cut through the air. Heels clicked sharply against marble, telling Santiago exactly who it was.

“Mr. Burns?”

Santiago's spine stiffened for just a second. He wasn’t sure whether to hope or dread the next words out of his personal assistant’s mouth. “What is it, Jen?” he asked, turning to face the petite woman with a curvy body but who somehow always dressed decently and efficiently.

That’s why he kept her. Jen Marbles was a composed woman who took her job seriously and never crossed the line. Even now, when everything was tense and dreadful, she stood tall with her tablet in hand and not a hair out of place.

“The police called. They have already received over a dozen calls,” she said as she stepped into the room. “All false leads.”

Santiago’s fingers curled slightly at his sides.

“Of course,” Derrick muttered, shaking his head.

Jen nodded. Her eyes dropped to her tablet. “Mall sightings. A play park. Someone even claimed they saw him at the airport. None of it checks out.” A beat passed before she added, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Santiago exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing the tension down, forcing control back in. He wanted to tell her he didn’t need her apology or sympathy. It was useless to him and wouldn’t bring back his son, but he held his tongue. Jen didn’t deserve his anger. She hadn’t been the one who let Kaleth be kidn*pped. No. That was all him. He should have kept his son safe. He’d failed.

As though reading Santiago’s mind, his brother suddenly stepped closer. “Hey. Look, I’ll handle it,” Derrick said, clapping a hand against Santiago’s shoulder. It was firm. Grounding. “I will handle communication with the police. You don’t need to deal with that circus. I’ll come find you when something concrete comes up.”

That wasn’t the slightest bit comforting, but all things considered, it was the best anyone could offer him right now. Santiago only turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge the man. “Keep me updated.”

“Always.” Derrick gave his shoulder one last squeeze before stepping away, already pulling his phone out.

Jen lingered a second longer. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Burns?”

“No,” Santiago clipped, unable to help himself.

She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be nearby.”

When she left, the room felt too big. Too empty, just like his chest. He felt as though his heart was missing and he had no idea how he was still alive. Glancing back at the muted television, he found that Kaleth’s picture was still on screen. He turned away before he punched a hole in the damn thing.

By the time he reached the door of his home office, Santiago wasn’t in a better mood. He wasn’t sure what he was expected to do while he waited for news. Work was out of the question, yet his office was the only room he felt he could stand in without feeling as though every brick was a reminder of his son and his absence. It was the only space where he felt he had control.

At least, that was what Santiago thought until he pushed the door open and froze.

Of all the shittiest days!