Chapter 11

As the detective hung up the phone, Jonathan excused himself and made his way to the bathroom. He was pretty sure he was going to be sick. On his way, Jonathan passed the bed where he last saw his wife and daughter. Standing in the doorway, he could picture the two of them, snuggled in the white sheets, red curls blazing across the pillows.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and immediately wished he hadn't, as Jennifer's scent scorched his nostrils. His stomach announced its presence in a violent lurch. Jonathan almost didn't make the toilet.

It was a full two more rounds before he felt his knees would support him again.

Standing to the full of his 6-foot frame, Jonathan flushed the toilet and moved to the sink. He turned the cold water on high and found a washcloth to wipe his face. Looking himself in the eyes as he turned the water off, he whispered, "You look like hell, Hart. Get it together. You made a promise to Jennifer you didn't keep. Now you need to find your wife and daughter. Damn it. Find them!" Jonathan picked up the mouthwash and rinsed for a few minutes. He spat into the sink and spoke to the man in the mirror again, "Jennifer and Ryleigh need you. Go find them."

He turned and made himself walk back to the detective. "Mr. Hart," the man rose to meet him. "We have good news and not so good news."

"Don't you mean bad news?"

"Until I have to tell you I found bodies, I'm not going to tell you the news is bad. Nothing short of that is bad."

"Fair enough."

"So the good news is both phones are on. The not so good news is they are not together."

"Not together? How is that possible?"

"Your wife's phone is on and still trying to connect via the roaming signal. The cell towers put it right here. Or rather, close to the spa. I have several officers trying to locate it right now. Your daughter's, however, for the last two hours, it has been jumping towers. From the line it's creating, it looks like she's headed toward Charleston. Any idea why she would go to Charleston?"

"Ryleigh wouldn't go to Charleston on her own. The question, detective, is why Jordan Coughlin would take my daughter to Charleston."

"Okay, so why would he…"

Another officer began to call out, interrupting him, "Detective! You need to hear this."

They moved over to the phone equipment the officers brought into Jonathan's suite. "I have Detective Duncan here. Would you please repeat that?" The officer adjusted a couple of knobs, and a voice came through a small speaker.

"Yes, sir. This call came in about 30 minutes ago. It's from a number y'all were lookin' for."

More voices began to fill the room. "911, what's your emergency?" The noise in the background was mostly just that. However, Jonathan thought he could make out a few words when the operator was silent. "911 Operator, what's the exact location of your emergency?"

"... okay, Chérie?" At what sounded like his wife's voice, Jonathan grabbed hold of the chair in front of him to stabilize himself.

"...Momma..."

"Can you speak up? I'm having trouble hearing you."

"...tired of..."

The operator tried again, "Do you have an emergency?"

"comfortable...need help..."

"Please keep the line open; I am sending help to your location. All units, I have a possible 10-40 in the Concord and Lauren Street area. Caller is on a cell phone and unresponsive. Vehicle appears to be moving..."

"Ryleigh…" was all Jonathan could manage.

"That sound like your daughter, Mr. Hart?" Detective Duncan asked.

Jonathan looked up and locked his eyes on the man. Despite the sudden dryness in his mouth, Jonathan willed his voice to work, "Yes, Detective. I would say that was both my wife and daughter."

"Together? Well, that is good news."

"What was the dispatcher saying?"

"10-40? It means there is a hostage situation. Because she didn't speak to them, they are assuming she's a hostage."

"Which she is."

"Right. Any idea why?"

"Until he tells me what I did to him, no. I have no idea why."

Ten minutes later, Jonathan, the detective, and a handful of officers in a couple of police cars were on their way to Charleston, lights, and sirens blazing. The detective and Jonathan were in the lead car, moving well over the posted 55 miles per hour speed limit. They pulled off the side road onto the highway heading towards I-95 without much of an actual stop. However, they didn't spend long on Highway 46 before the detective turned off. Not knowing the area well, Jonathan questioned the move, "Shouldn't we head to the interstate?"

"We could if you want to take a good 25 or 30 minutes longer. Trust me, Mr. Hart, I want to get there as fast as you do."

"I highly doubt that, sir," Jonathan corrected him. "My wife and daughter are in the hands of a mad man."

"And it is my mission to get them back into your hands as quickly as possible."

The scanner bolted to the dashboard of the undercover car sprang to life, "David three Bluffton PD."

Detective Duncan reached for the mic. "David three. Go ahead, BPD."

"Be advised we have information from Charleston PD."

He looked at Jonathan with a raised eyebrow and spoke into the mic, "Go ahead."

"There has been an earthquake in Charleston. An 8000 followed in the vicinity of your call. No further information. Will keep you advised."

"What followed?" Jonathan demanded.

The detective kept his eyes straight ahead as he spoke, "8000… An explosion."