CHAPTER THREE: THE FATHER WHO SHOULD BE DEAD

It wasn't even up to thirty minutes and priska had reached the school already.

I got a message from the school that my kids are here she thundered.

“Where are my kids?”

Priska’s voice hit the ER desk hard enough to make the nurse flinch.

“Mrs. Ricks? They were picked up twelve minutes ago with their father’s authorization.”

Priska stared. “What do you mean by their father’s authorization? My husband died three years ago. So who authorized the picking of the kids?”

The nurse looked down at the log, confused. “The signature here says V. Ricks.”

Priska went still.

“Voy Ricks? Dead for eight months. I don’t understand. This doesn’t look real. My husband has been dead for three years now, and the school was aware. Who gives out children on a signature that I’m not understanding? This whole scenario—please, you people should explain it to me. You, the school, know that the dad to the kids is dead. So how come a dad authorized the signature to pick up the kids? Are you hiding something from me?”

The nurse opened her mouth, but Priska was already moving.

Just right there where she was still arguing, someone she couldn't recognize sent her a photo.

It was Dary, her son, blindfolded in the back of a black SUV. His lips were parted like he’d been crying.

A second message came through, "You have 30 minutes. Come alone to Warehouse 7. Or you get the next photo of your girls."

Priska looked up.

Rachel was standing across the ER, arms folded and she was just watching priska mumble and rage in anger.

And suddenly it clicked.

Rachel and Voy were married. The file proved it.

So Rachel was working for Voy.

But if Voy was alive, why the act?

Why let her grieve for three years?

Why send Rachel to the school, to the warehouse, like every move was choreographed?

Priska clenched her fists. This wasn’t just about a warehouse anymore.

This was Voy playing a game with her.

And he was winning.

She hit the hospital exit running.

The car was parked two streets over, but the road to Warehouse 7 was locked down. California traffic didn’t care that her kids were missing. Horns. Sirens. Nothing moving.

Priska didn’t wait. She yanked the keys out, shoved them in her pocket, and started running.

Her chest burned. Her legs screamed. But the photo of Dary in that SUV kept her moving.

Warehouse 7 was a mile away. She didn’t check the time. She just ran.

When she got there, the gate was open.

Inside, the warehouse was quiet. It was only the echo of her footsteps she heard.

“Rachel?” Her voice echoed. No answer.

Then she saw him, standing by the loading bay, hands in his pockets, like he’d been waiting.

"VOY", priska screamed so hard.

Her knees almost gave out. Everything she was holding hit the floor. Keys, phones and the folder from the clinic.

“VOY?” The name came out again. She was shaking but moving backwards towards the exit door.

He stepped forward. “It’s me.”

Priska shook her head. “No, you’re dead. I buried you. I sat at your grave for three years. Are you a ghost or are you real? Say it.”

Voy didn’t flinch. “It’s me, Priska. I can explain everything that’s been happening but you just have to listen.”

“Don’t explain anything!” She was yelling now, tears mixing with sweat. “The only thing I want to hear is that you’re giving me my kids back. Now.”

Voy held up his hands. “I’m handling it. But I can’t do it alone. I need you.”

Priska wiped her face. “Need me for what?”

“Because it’s Rachel.” His voice was very low as he mentioned that name “She took the kids. She’s been manipulating me for weeks. She wants to extort me. She’s using the marriage papers, the company documents you dropped at the warehouse before you rushed to the hospital. She’s using all of it.”

"She has been manipulating you for weeks? But you have been dead for years.

How does this sound in your ears? Answer me voy priska thundered.

Are playing games with me voy?

Priska froze.

Can you just calm down and listen to me voy said. You've asked me a lot of questions at once and I'm going to take my time and answer all.

“So when I said Rachel works for me,” Voy said, “it was true. But not like you think. She was never loyal. She’s been playing both sides.”

Priska looked at him. The scar on his eyebrow. The way he stood when it was serious. It was him.

And if it was him, everything changed.

“Where are my kids, Voy?”

“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “But I know where Rachel is taking them next. If we move now, we can cut her off.”

Priska picked up her phone. The message was still there. 17 minutes left.

She looked at Voy. " You mean Rachel has my kids?

For the first time in three years, she wasn’t alone in this.

“If that's the case, then we move now.”

They didn’t take the car.

VOY grabbed a set of keys from the office hook and tossed them to her. “My backup. It’s faster.”

Priska caught them and sprinted for the side door. The engine roared to life before the gate was fully open.

Voy was already calling someone. “I need a location on Rachel’s phone. Now. She has the kids.”

The line was breaking before they finally heard the voice of who was receiving the call.

“She’s at the Port of Oakland, Dock 12. She’s loading them onto a container ship.”

Priska’s foot hit the floor. The car surged forward, tires screeching.

“Port of Oakland? That’s twenty minutes out. We don’t have twenty minutes.”

Voy looked at her. “Then we make it ten.”

A new message came in. It was another photo.

This time it was all three kids. Blindfolded while standing against a shipping container.

Priska’s throat closed.

Under the photo, a sentence appeared.

"If you want to see them again, get out of the car and stop following me."

Voy read it over her shoulder and swore under his breath. “She’s taking them out of the country.”

Priska’s eyes caught the small print at the bottom of the photo.

Container number MAEU 882451.

Destination: Panama. Departure in 48 hours.

She slammed the brakes.

Voy turned to her. “What is it?”

Priska held the phone out, her voice barely there.

“They’re putting my babies on a ship, Voy and it leaves in two days.”