Ch 932 - The Heir

Alex regretted agreeing to partner with Yvonne. Their task was to search the woods for Christopher. Meanwhile, Ken Stokes and Louis were out searching for Debbie. 

Yvonne was hanging back behind him, trying to talk to him. Alex ignored her. He couldn't give her any hope that there might be a chance for reconciliation. There was too much heartbreak there. 

"Do you remember," Yvonne was saying. "When you took Debbie on that hike in the woods?"

Alex stiffened. He remembered that hike. Debbie had been quiet about it afterwards. He had assumed that the hike had tired her out. 

She's trying to get me to talk, he thought. I can't let her get to me. 

Alex picked up the pace, taking long strides over the rocky ground, putting as much distance between them as he could. 

"Debbie told me all about it," she shouted, trying to be heard. "It sounded fun! I think you guys make such a cute couple! You have common interests and values. And stuff!"

Alex could hear her running to catch up. He had strapped on his hiking boots, the same pair he had worn on his hiking date with Debbie, but Yvonne had chosen a pair of running shoes. Her feet would hate her in the morning. 

Stones and grass crunched beneath Alex's feet as he searched the woods. He had the maps app open on his phone, but he kept losing signal. SCOT had transferred the coordinates of Christopher's last known location to his phone. Every so often, Alex would take it out and judge their location. 

He paused for a moment, gathering his bearings. He took out his phone and checked the app. A map of the forest opened up in front of him. A blue dot represented him, and a red dot represented the spot where Christopher had last been. They weren't close, but they also weren't too far. Alex estimated another hour of hiking before they were in the right area.  

Yvonne came up close behind him. He could hear her ragged breath, and the sluggish steps she took as she finally caught up with him. 

"Are we close?" she asked. 

Alex bit his lip, trying not to talk. Instead, he held his phone out to the side, so she could see the map. She brushed a lock of hair out of her face as she analyzed the map.

"Not too far," she said. "Maybe, an hour, I think? I don't know. Me and hiking. I never know how to judge time. How long do you think we've got?"

Alex pocketed the phone and began walking, picking up the pace yet again. Yvonne had to jog to keep up the pace. She stumbled a few times. About a half hour later, her foot caught on a rock, and she flew forward. 

By reflex, Alex's hand went out to stop her. Her chest hit his forearm, and he found himself twisting to grab her shoulders and set her down on the ground. He righted her so that her footing was even. After a moment, he realized what he was doing, and pulled himself away. 

He turned to leave, but her voice kept him in place. 

"You do care about me," she said, hopefully. "Alex, I'm not going to pretend I was right to do what I did, but it doesn't justify the way you're treating me."

Alex clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes. He knew that she was right, but he didn't have the heart to look at, or talk to, her.

"I can't apologize enough," she continued. "I love you, and I love Debbie. I can't imagine how hard it must be right now for either of you. It's unfair of me to demand that you talk to me, but you're being unfair, too, Alex!" She stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips. "We stand a better chance of finding both of them if we work together on this. Please, will you at least give me a heads up about where you're going?"

Alex thought about it, and realized that she was right.

"Fine," he said. 

He could see the relief in her face. Her shoulders relaxed, and a warm smile returned to her face. 

"Thank you," she said. "Now, please, tell me how much farther we have to go?" she batted her eyes at him coyly, but he frowned in return. She stopped, and looked away. 

"Not too far," he said. "About a half hour." He pulled out his phone and checked the map. "We need to head," he turned in a circle until the blue dot oriented along the line SCOT's coordinates had drawn, "that way!" He said definitively, pointing through a cluster of trees.

They headed through, and a half hour later they came to the small clearing where Christopher had fallen. Alex stood still while Yvonne walked around, exploring the area. 

Yvonne became interested in the rocks where Christopher had fallen. She knelt over them, inspecting something she found interesting. Alex hung back, unsure of what he was supposed to be looking for.

"Hey!" she called to him. "Alex! Come check this out!" 

Alex went over to her and knelt beside her. She was pointing at something in the mood. It looked like bootprints. 

"I think it's a trail," she said, leaning forward over a rock. "It's a little hard to see because animals have been running over it. But it's a trail all the same." She looked up at him. "It goes in the same direction. The one they went in." Yvonne's throat bulged a little as she swallowed. 

"We follow it," Alex said. "On your feet, we need to-"

He spotted something poking out of the underbrush nearby, and he lost his train of thought. It was a piece of white cloth, and it fluttered in the breeze, moving with the motion of the underbrush. He walked over and knelt down, taking the white piece of fabric in his hand. He tugged gently, not wanting to trigger any booby traps, or disturb any sleeping animals. 

The cloth came free with a little resistance, and Alex was careful unfolding it. He didn't hate spiders or insects, but he didn't want them randomly crawling over his exposed skin. Luckily, there was nothing hiding within the folds of the cloth. Well, nothing living. 

Alex's heart sank, and his blood ran cold when he saw the image that had been embroidered with a delicate hand. A single letter "J" embroidered in gold. It took up most of the space on the front of the double-layered handkerchief, and beneath it was a crest that Alex knew well. The crest of the Ambrose family. 

******

Lincoln swirled the amber-colored scotch in his glass and took a shot. Its flavors burst along his tongue, and he sighed with pleasure. There was nothing like a good scotch whiskey to unwind after a long day of planning. The boy, Christopher, had retired to his bedroom. Lincoln was getting through to him, at last. It might only be a few days before he was fully convinced that Alex was an enemy. 

The lights had been turned down. He was planning on going to be himself, and didn't want to be overstimulated. He had some big days coming up, and he would need his rest. 

Lincoln was only slightly aware of the man who sat across from him. He sat in shadow. This was the same man in black.

"Your gift is much appreciated," Lincoln said, looking into his glass. "I'm sure she will fetch quite a lot of attention." 

The figure crossed his legs and leaned back. He held his own glass of scotch whiskey, and was drinking at a slower pace. Lincoln's guest was not a fan of good alcohol. He was also not a fan of talking. 

"Strong, silent type tonight, are we?" Lincoln observed, holding his drink close to him. "You know, I've put her in one of the smaller rooms. It's based on something called a studio apartment. Something the poors might rent or buy if they're desperate enough to sacrifice on space." 

Alex's little girlfriend had proved to be something of a fighter. Now, though, she seemed to be more subdued. Possibly because she had been unconscious when she arrived. To the best of Lincoln's knowledge, she had fallen asleep in transit, and remained asleep until she woke up this morning. 

At any rate, Lincoln had bait, and he would draw his good for nothing grandson out of the woodwork and into the light. 

*******

Debbie was becoming tired of being captured and held prisoner. It was quite boring. 

This time was slightly more pleasant. Instead of a cell, she was given a room the size of a New York City studio apartment. A single room that contained a bed, a wood-framed sofa, an oven, a fridge, some counters, and a small bathroom attached to the room. 

Debbie appreciated the minimalist design. Rather, she tried to. It was difficult to appreciate something that was supposed to be your cell when you were the prisoner.  

"This is nice," she told herself. "Just nice. No books, no TV, no computer, not even a chess set. I can make this work. It's nice."

She didn't think that talking to herself out loud would be helpful, but it was better than silence. The fridge was full, so at least whoever had put her here wanted her alive. The bed was also moderately comfortable, which meant they wanted her rested. 

I'm thinking too much, she thought. But can you think too much when you're alone with your thoughts?

For the millionth time, she stood up, and paced around the small space. She went into the bathroom, explored the medicine cabinet. It was full of pain management medications, some mouthwash, toothpaste, and a variety of toothbrushes. She closed the medicine cabinet and leaned against the sink, hanging her head in exhaustion. 

She had no memory of how she got here. All she could think about was Alex and how terrified he must be. A part of her hated him for what he had done with Yvonne, but without his strong arms to comfort her, she felt cold and alone. Draping the duvet about her did nothing to soothe her heartache. 

She went back into the living room, and sat on the wooden framed sofa. It had soft red cushions which were comfortable enough, but they weren't nearly as comfortable as Alex's sofa. Just like the bed wasn't as cozy as Alex's bed. She allowed her thoughts to drift to Alex, and her head lolled to one side as she drew her knees to her chest.

Suddenly, the door opened. 

Debbie's head snapped up at the sound, and she braced herself against the sofa. Hallway light spilled into the room through the crack as a heavily pregnant woman in a pink power suit entered her prison cell. 

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. The woman in the pink suit tilted her head to one side, her eyes running up and down Debbie. She made a small, "hmph" sound, and strode up to Debbie, heels clicking on the wooden floor. 

"Hello," said the woman. "You must be Debbie."

Debbie said nothing. There was something incredibly off about this woman, and she wasn't sure what. She looked the woman up and down, and found herself grabbing one of the many plush cushions that filled the sofa. 

"I'll take that as a yes," said the woman. "It's nice to meet you."

"Are you going to tell me your name?" Debbie asked, gripping the pillow with a firm hand. 

The woman chuckled. "Where would be the fun in that?" she asked. She stood with her weight on one foot, and her left hand on her left hip, accentuating the baby bump. 

"You know my name and I didn't even tell you,"  Debbie said sternly. "Only fair that you should tell me yours."

The woman stared down at Debbie. 

"I suppose you make a good case," the woman said, rolling her eyes. "Fine. The name is Naysmith. Kylie Naysmith."

Debbie's stomach dropped, and the world rocked beneath her. 

Kylie. Naysmith.

The name hit her like a cannonball. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and she barely had enough time to leap over the sofa and make it to the bathroom before she vomited. When she was done, she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, letting her head rest against the toilet bowl for a few minutes as she recovered. 

Kylie. Naysmith. 

This was the woman Alex had slept with to gain vital information about Riley. A thousand emotions ran through Debbie, and she could hardly grasp a single one before a new emotion replaced it. Her entire body began to tremble as tears uncontrollably poured down her face. 

The click-clack of high heels marched toward her, and Kylie stood above her. 

"Oh, poor little lamb," she said in a high, sweet voice. "Did somebody need to get their feelings out through their stomach?" 

Debbie looked up at her. Kylie's makeup was perfectly done, and her nails were perfectly manicured. Next to her, Debbie felt painfully average. 

No wonder Alex slept with her, she thought bitterly. Look at her. She's stunning!

Debbie shook her head, trying to dispel the thought.

"What do you want?" Debbie demanded, curling up against the toilet bowl. 

Kylie looked away for a second, then grinned and turned back to face Debbie. 

"Nothing much," she said, touching a hand lightly to the hefty-looking bump. "I just wanted to introduce you to the heir to the Naysmith fortune."

"What?" Debbie barked. "Now that we killed Riley, it's all going to you? Congrats."

Kylie laughed. "Oh, no. Not me. Although I am technically the heir since my brother's unfortunate demise meant everything went to me. No, no," she placed her second hand on the bump and grinned wickedly. "I should probably say that my son will also be the heir to the Ambrose fortune."

It took a moment for the words to sink. When they finally did, Debbie found herself vomiting again. 

Just how long had Alex been sleeping with this woman? The liar! She was about ready to give birth!

As Debbie hugged the toilet bowl, Kylie left the studio apartment-styled prison cell, her high heels clicking all the way.