<h4>Chapter 96: Obsessed</h4>


    Matthew


    "Meet me at Red’s Cigar Bar as soon as you can," Charles’s text said so I rush there.


    This is better be about Rodrigo.


    I push open the heavy wood door and step inside. The bar is dimly lit, smoky, and reeks of leather and stale whiskey. A jazz tune hums softly from the speakers, shing with the tension brewing in my chest.


    Charles is already there, seated in a booth at the back with a ss of bourbon in hand. He doesn’t wave. He just lifts his eyes and gives me a look.


    I slide into the seat across from him. "What’s going on?"


    He nces around first, then leans in. "I made a few calls. Pulled some favors from old contacts."


    I lean forward, every muscle in my body tensing. "And?"


    Charles lowers his voice. "I found someone. A guy who used to work security for Rodrigo a few years back. He quit, disappeared off the grid—until now."


    My jaw tightens. "And he knows something?"


    Charles nods. "He says Rodrigo has always been involved with some bad people."


    "I’d guessed that much," I say grimly. "Why else would he suggest kidnapping of an innocent child?"


    Charles takes a slow sip of his bourbon, then sets the ss down with a deliberate thud. "And I listened to him and let him do it. God...I can never forgive myself."


    I waive my hand in dismissal. "I don’t have time for you to have a pity party, Charles. Tell me what else you found out."


    "Alvarez said Rodrigo didn’t just ’suggest’ the kidnapping—he personally orchestrated the logistics. He hired the men, picked the park where Marishka would be distracted, and arranged the van. He monitored their progress on a burner phone."


    My fists clench on the table. "So this wasn’t some half‐baked scheme that got out of hand. Rodrigo nned it down to thest detail."


    "He even scoped out Sarah’s routines," Charles continues. "Alvarez said Rodrigo watched Marishka’s schedule and made notes of her."


    I push back from the booth. "Did Alvarez say why he was so eager to "help" you?"


    Charles runs a hand through his hair, eyes haunted. "Alvarez said...he said, since Rodrigo saw my daughter, he kind of became obsessed with her," he says and winces as if he tasted something disgusting.


    The air between us suddenly feels thin. I sink back down, my legs going weak.


    "Obsessed?" I repeat, the word tasting like poison. "What do you mean, obsessed?"


    Charles drains his bourbon in one gulp as if needing the burn to continue. "I don’t know."


    "Jesus Christ," I mutter, nausea rising in my throat. "And you never noticed anything off about him?"


    Charles’s eyes sh with anger, then dim with shame. "He was careful around me. Professional. I never saw...I never thought..." His voice cracks.


    A waitress approaches, but I wave her away before she can speak. This isn’t a conversation I want to be interrupted.


    "Where is Alvarez now?" I demand. "Can he lead us to the men who kidnapped Sarah?"


    "Holed up in a motel off Route 16. He’s terrified, Matthew. ims that’s why he never came forward before."


    "Then he better stay terrified," I snap. "Because if he’s lying or holding anything back, I’ll make sure he’s more afraid of me than of Rodrigo."


    Charles leans back, rubbing his face. "He gave me the names of the couple who took Sarah. He said to keep him out of all this now."


    "Then we go see the couple," I say grimly.


    Charles’s eyes turn wide. "Matthew, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Those are dangerous people. What if..."


    "You are telling me to let this go?" I growl. "Your daughter is still traumatized because those people kidnapped her when she was just a child."


    Charles flinches, his lips parting, but no wordse out. I can see the guilt twisting behind his eyes, weighing him down like chains.


    "I’m not telling you to let it go," he finally says, voice low. "I’m saying if we go after them, we have to be smart. They’re not the kind of people you knock on the door and have a little chat with."


    I m my palm against the table, the sound cutting through the murmur of the bar. A few heads turn, but I don’t care. "I’m done waiting, Charles. Sarah does not deserve to live in fear like this."


    His face twists in pain, but he doesn’t argue. He knows he can’t. There’s no excuse big enough to erase what he allowed.


    "Where are they?" I demand, my voice is low and sharp like a de. "The couple who took her. I want names and an address."


    Charles slowly reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a crumpled slip of paper. "Their names are ke and Serena Nash. Alvarez says they’re holed up in an old farmhouse just outside of town."


    I snatch the paper from his hand. The names mean nothing to me, but they will. Soon.


    "Shouldn’t we call the police?" he asks.


    "We don’t have enough evidence to show it, and it happened decades ago. Don’t worry. I am not nning on going over there and demanding answers right away," I say.


    Charles raises a brow, skeptical. "Then what are you nning?"


    "I just want to ask them some questions, that’s all," I say cryptically.


    Charles studies me for a moment like he’s trying to decide whether or not to believe me. "I don’t like this," he mutters.


    I give him a hard smile. "I’ll go alone," I say, tucking the paper into my coat. "If I have to."


    "No, I wille with you. Sarah is my daughter and I want to do what’s best for her. When do you want to go?" he asks.


    "As soon as Sarah is out of the hospital and back home. Meanwhile, I think it’d be good if you visited her. Oh, and by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask," I pause.


    He raises an eyebrow. "Ask me what?"


    "Who do Evelyn act like she hates Sarah?" I ask.