Anat shook her head. “Horus, my husband, wasn’t a man to buy me jewelry, because I didn’t ever wear it. He made things with his own two hands for me. He wrote me poetry. Those were the things I treasured. My granddaughter is my greatest treasure. The ankle bells that were my mother’s. The ones that were my Amara’s—my daughter. They didn’t get those, because they weren’t kept in the jewelry box. They were angry that I had so little in the way of jewels. I had cash, which I gave to them. It was in a drawer in the kitchen. But there was nothing to tell my friends.”
Player could have told them Anat would never risk her granddaughter’s life even if she did have jewels, although they hadn’t told the police that someone had attempted to kidnap Zyah. They hadn’t because Player had shot two men. Now those men were dead.
As if Jonas could read his mind, the sheriff brought the subject back to the two dead men. “The robbers only have to believe there’s something of value here, Anat. They have someone in town working with them. Someone who knows all of your friends. Someone you talk to and who has been inside this house.”
“Please don’t scare my grandmother,” Zyah objected. She shifted as if she might get up. Player put a restraining hand on her thigh, so she reached out to take her grandmother’s hand instead. “You have no idea how difficult it’s been for her to try to feel safe in her own home after what happened to her. Those men broke into our home and robbed her. They beat her.”
To Player’s horror, there was a little sob in her voice. He immediately wrapped his arm around her head and turned her face into his chest.
“I know you’re trying to help them, Jonas, but neither of these women has a clue why these men wanted to target them in the first place. They have no idea if they’re still being targeted.”
“I’m not making this up, Player,” Jonas said quietly. “These men came back a second time, and if I’m right about what happened a few weeks ago, they targeted this house a third time. That means this gang is way off their normal pattern. If that’s the case, something very big is making them risk getting caught when they wouldn’t ordinarily take chances.”
That gave Player pause. Jonas was right. Code had already given Torpedo Ink the information that this particular gang of thieves would always grab and move on to the next small town. They targeted a small group of elderly and got out fast before law enforcement even knew they were around. They didn’t hit the same house twice, let alone try to kidnap a member of the household. That was way off the norm. They’d already hit four homes. They had come to Anat’s house on three occasions. They hadn’t returned because Torpedo Ink was there.
“Their violence has been escalating. They’ve always been willing to kill. They get rid of their insider once they leave,” Jonas continued. “But they’ve never deviated from their pattern of hitting four or five houses and leaving town fast. That’s how they never get caught.”
“Maybe it isn’t the same gang,” Player ventured. He could feel Zyah tensing. She had spent so much time—too much time—healing his fractured mind that it was impossible for her to hide much from him. As far as Zyah knew, they had nothing of worth in their home that robbers would want.
Anat leaned so far forward in her wheelchair that Player actually put out a hand as if he could catch her if she fell. Maestro and Jackson did the same. She ignored them all, looking directly into the sheriff’s eyes.
“I would never, ever, under any circumstances, risk my granddaughter’s life. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t give to a kidnapper, robber or killer to get her back. She is my entire world. She is my everything. I have nothing that I can think of that these people want. Whoever this insider is, this informant is, they know more about my household than I do.”
Player felt his gut clench but kept the expressionless mask on his face in the ensuing silence. Jonas Harrington and Jackson Deveau would never miss a mistake like the one Anat had just made. The older woman sat back in her wheelchair, having made her point.
Anat sipped at her tea, looking regal. As far as Player was concerned, she was magnificent. He didn’t remember having a grandmother. Or really, even, a mother. The weeks spent with Anat Gamal had been one of the best experiences of his life. She was intelligent, had a tremendous sense of humor and told him countless stories of places and occurrences in her past that were fascinating to him. She was a wealth of knowledge, and he did his best to learn from her.