After I click the link, I open the simple and modern website and find the phone number at the top. I click the button next to the number, and soon it’s ringing, and I’m praying that help is on the way.
When the ringing stops, a low voice says, “Blackwood Security, how may I direct your call?”
“I need to speak with Alex,” I manage, hearing the shakiness in my voice.
A pause. Then, “Alex who?”
I try to recall Alex’s last name from when Ryder introduced us. Shit. “I’m sorry,” I tell the man, glancing back out the side window, finding we’re entering the suburbs. “I don’t know her last name. She works closely with Ryder. Does that help any?”
“I’m afraid not.”
His harsh voice is enough to tell me how royally fucked I am. I know Ryder. Anyone answering his phone would not put me through based on the information I’ve given. However, I don’t have time for a thousand questions with this guy to get through to Alex. “Sir, please listen to me very carefully. This is Hadley Winters, the senator’s daughter, speaking.” It’s so rare I pull out the name card. But it’s a card I hope wins me this round. “I need to talk to Alex on an urgent matter that involves my father that cannot wait. Now, let me make this clear to you: If Ryder finds out that I’ve called and you didn’t put me through to her, I can assure you that he will make your day very, very miserable. Think about that for a moment. Is a pissed-off Ryder something you honestly want to face tonight?”
Silence.
Then, “Please hold for Alex McCoy, Miss Winters.”
The second the elevator music begins playing in the background, I sigh in relief.
I look up at the cabdriver, finding his eyes now smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s a way to get it done, girl.”
I don’t reply, or need his approval. Worry is tightening every muscle in my body and my heart is clenching heavy with sadness, as my instincts continue to scream danger at me. I stare at the houses we’re passing on the quiet street, counting the seconds, hoping with every one that my father is okay.
Finally, the music fades away, then Alex’s surprised voice fills the phone line. “Hadley?”
“Yes, Alex,” I gasp. “Thank God, it’s you.”
“Of course, it’s me,” she says; obviously by her tone, she’s amused. “You scared the bejesus out of Tony. He said the punishment from Ryder if this call was fake was worse than talking to the crazy—”
“Listen,” I cut her off, having no time for her conversation either. “I don’t know for sure, but I think my father is in trouble.”
A pause. Then, “Say that again?”
“My father,” I repeat, heart pounding, palms sweating. “He emailed me tonight. I think he’s in trouble.”
Another pause. “I’m sorry, Hadley, but I’m not seeing how an email is an indicator of trouble.”
“He doesn’t email.”
She adds dryly, “Well, perhaps he decided that now he should start. What did he say?”
“He thanked me for sending his schedule through his email and said he’d call me when he was back from Washington.”
“That’s nice.”
“Alex,” I snap, done with this, fully trusting my instincts. “He doesn’t know how to email from his phone. He doesn’t even know what app he would use. It’s like someone wants to ensure I don’t go check in on him. Please,” I beg, tears filling my eyes. “Please listen to me. Something is wrong. I just know it.”
She’s quiet a moment, and obviously the worry in my voice makes her believe me, because when she addresses me again, her voice softens, “He’s never emailed before? Not ever? Not even once?”
I wipe away a tear, looking out the window, seeing we’re getting close to my family home. “He doesn’t even know how to use the calendar on his phone, let alone his email.”
“When did you last talk to your father?”
“He came over this morning”—God was that only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago—“and that’s when he asked me to send him the schedule. Listen, that’s just normal stuff that comes with my job. He already thanked me this morning. He wouldn’t do it again, there’s just no reason to. And that’s not my father.” I’ve never begged a woman for anything, but I’ll beg her until my voice runs out, as long as she listens. “I’m on my way to his house now and we’re almost there, but please send someone to help me.”
“If you think he’s in danger, you better be nowhere near his house,” Alex states sternly. In the background, I hear rustling. And when she becomes breathless, I assume that means she’s running somewhere. Then she adds to someone obviously in the room with her, “Get a team to the senator’s house.” To me, she briskly adds, “Hadley, do you hear me? I’ve got a team on their way. They’re a minute away. Don’t you—”
“Get here fast!” I hang up the phone.