Chapter 2 - The Cryptic Ransom-2
Rowan staring at the glowing screen of his smartphone, his pulse hammering so violently in his ears that the ambient noises of the emergency room faded into a dull, distant murmur.
"Mr. Mercer? Is everything alright?" Officer Vance asked, noticing the sudden, terrifying pallor that had drained the color from his face.
Rowan slowly turned the phone toward the officer. Vance’s sharp gaze locked onto the image of Delaney bound to the chair in the dark basement. She immediately tapped her radio microphone attached to her shoulder strap.
"Control, this is Unit 402. Upgrade my current location to a high-priority kidnap and extortion incident. Dispatch Detective Miller from Major Crimes to Vanderbilt ER immediately."
Rowan backed against the wall, clutching his forehead. "This doesn't make any sense... Pay the bond? What bond? I'm an architect at a regional firm! We don't have millions of dollars! Delaney works as a part-time registrar at the county records office!"
Officer Vance took the phone carefully using a clean latex glove to preserve potential forensic data on the screen. "Mr. Mercer, look at the bottom left corner of the photo. Do you recognize that metal chest behind her?"
Rowan leaned in, squinting at the grainy image. Tucked in the shadowed corner of the basement room was a heavy, rusted green iron trunk stamped with a white stencil: PROPERTY OF TENNESSEE DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS - DEPT. 14.
"That's state prison surplus equipment," Rowan muttered, searching his memory. "Delaney’s late father, Arthur Vance... he was a senior correctional officer at the old Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary before it closed down."
Before Officer Vance could reply, Micah tugged gently on Rowan’s pant leg. The boy looked up, his eyes heavy with sleep and leftover fear.
"Dad..." Micah whimpered softly. "The bad man in the black truck... he came to the house on Wednesday."
Rowan dropped to his knees instantly, taking Micah’s small hands into his own. "Micah, look at me. What black truck? Did someone come to Mom's house?"
Micah nodded slowly, taking a sip of his juice box. "Mom was crying in the kitchen. A tall man with a scar on his neck walked inside without knocking. He told Mom that 'Arthur's ghost' finally had to pay what he stole. Then Mom locked us in the upstairs bedroom and told us to play quiet games until she came back."
"Did she leave with him voluntarily?" Officer Vance asked gently, kneeling beside Rowan.
"She tried to fight him," Micah whispered, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "She threw a glass candle at his face. But he grabbed her arm and dragged her out the front door. Mom yelled at us through the window not to open the door for anyone except you, Dad. But after three days... the lights stopped working, and Elsie was crying so much..."
Rowan closed his eyes as a wave of immense guilt slammed into his chest. While he was sitting in comfortable corporate meetings discussing commercial zoning laws, his ex-wife had been kidnapped from her home, and his tiny children had been left to starve in the dark for three terrifying days.
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A senior detective dressed in a dark grey suit, Detective Miller, strode into the ER lobby, holding a tablet computer.
"Rowan Mercer?" Miller asked, his voice gravelly and precise. "We just ran the digital metadata on the encrypted image sent to your phone. The IP origin wasn't an offshore server. The signal was bounced off a cellular tower located less than four miles from here—in the old industrial district near the Cumberland River."
