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Dad’s face is the last one I want to see, but there he is, smiling. “Why were you out of the country, Mariah? Where have you been?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
He bristles at my detached tone. “You will always be my concern, daughter of mine.”
“You forfeited that right two years ago. I have nothing else to say on the matter.”
“Watch your tone,” he hisses through clenched teeth, glaring at me with so much hatred and disappointment. “You seem to have forgotten your place, Mariah. You are my daughter, and you will respect me.”
“Respect is earned.” A text from Malcolm blinks on the screen and I hit ignore. “Now, what do you want? Calling isn’t something you do and when it occurs, it’s because you need something from me.”
“Why were you in Colombia with Javier Lucas?”
My blood runs cold at that. How the hell…
“Are you having me watched?” His lack of a response gives me the answer I need, and while inside I’m fuming—wanting to strangle the man—my expression remains unemotional. Cold. “I guess this is a trait passed down from generation to generation.”
“Are you fucking that—”
“Where is my mother?” Dad doesn’t like that I interrupted nor my line of questioning, but I couldn’t care less and match his icy glare. “What did you do to her?”
“She isn’t of your concern.”
“And my life isn’t of yours.”
“Mariah,” he spits out, but his attention isn’t on me but someone on the other side of the phone. It’s a woman’s voice, speaking low, but I catch part of their reflection in the windowpane behind my father. She’s familiar. Someone I’ll be paying a visit to soon.
“Get to the point.” Walking to the fridge, I pull it open and take out a can of pop. “Some of us would like to eat dinner in peace.”
His eyes snap back to mine and the woman turns her face, but I do catch a better look. Mildred, you stupid bitch. “I’m not above hurting my daughter and you’re pushing me, sweetheart. Back down and do as you’re told if you want to see your mother again.”
Popping the top, I take a large sip. Noisily, which I know annoys him. “What is this going to cost me?”
“Malcolm is currently holding control of the Frederick’s laboratory in Utah. Get me the—”
“No.”
“The fuck did you just say?”
“I said no.” Then I take another sip and smile. “Mom isn’t dead, and I will find her.”
“The hospital will never release her without my signature.”
“Maybe, but you just signed your death warrant.” Disconnecting the call, I quickly press the number for Malcolm and wait. It rings twice before there’s an audible click.
“Did he call you?”
“He did. Much sooner than I expected.”
“Was anyone with him?” His ire matches my own. A familial betrayal cuts deep and the punishment is served without mercy, something I am okay with.
“Mildred.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” We hang up and I go on with my evening. Within the last week, we’ve watched videos, gone through endless files, and started the search for my mother. Mildred Frederick and my father have been corroborating for the last few years on unapproved medical testing for a few viral strands that have been slowly growing overseas but haven’t hit the States, and yet, their end goal is a worldwide bidding war.
That’s their goal, but I have mine.
I want their blood on my hands.
