Chapter 189 The Orphanage Connection
On her phone screen lay a photograph she had taken during an event at the orphanage years ago.
In the image, a teenage emcee from the orphanage was inviting Sidonie onto the stage to speak.
The build of that teenage host was strikingly similar to the silhouette of the kidnapper in the video.
It had to be the same person.
So that teenager–could he be the kidnapper?
And the orphanage…
Quinn recalled the sudden broadcast of the five–year–old firefighting footage on the island, the orphanage function where reporters received anonymous texts and confronted Sidonie on the spot.
Every incident seemed to circle back to the orphanage somehow.
That connection made the young man an even stronger suspect.
Her search had also turned up information about the co–pilot who died in the border blaze five years ago. His wife had passed away earlier, leaving him to raise their only son alone; at the time of the accident, the boy was eleven.
By age, that teenager could very well be the dead co–pilot’s son.
Quinn dialed the police and relayed every detail of her discovery.
When she ended the call, Trent stared at her, stunned. “Why are you helping Sidonie? I thought you couldn’t stand her.”
“I don’t like Sidonie,” Quinn answered coolly, “but I was a soldier. I know what a soldier ought to do.”
Even though she was now retired, she still saw herself as a soldier at heart, bound to the code she had once sworn to uphold.
A tremor ran through Trent’s chest, and for a moment, he found he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Quinn.
A soldier… He had never truly respected her military background; to him, she had been little more than someone who once did a stint in the service.
He had even looked down on her, assuming that aside from enduring hardship, she possessed no special talents.
He had married Quinn during the lowest point of his life, meeting her just after she had lost both parents.
Around her, he felt less wretched, and being with her had always given him a strange sense of calm.
So he proposed and privately vowed to treat her well–if he chose her to be his wife, then he would stay loyal to her and to their marriage.
But when had everything begun to change?
Had the distance grown because he was busy launching a company, because he heard Sidonie was coming
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home, or because he saw Sidonie stride through the airport in her captain’s uniform?
Even he couldn’t say.
When they divorced, he had no regrets; in fact, he assumed Quinn would be the one to regret it, convinced his future was bright while she was merely a retired soldier with nothing to her name.
Now, however, he could not even articulate how he felt.
He only knew that the upright integrity shining from Quinn made him feel deeply ashamed.
A member of the production team led Trent away from the set to calm him down, and with the livestream cut off, the talk–show interview resumed its scheduled taping.
Yet, most people in the audience were already distracted, so the remainder of the interview ended in a hurried, perfunctory wrap–up.
Once the program went off the air, Quinn received a call from the police informing her that they had already located the kidnapper.
“They found him?” Quinn froze in surprise; the officers were moving far faster than she had expected.
“Yes. It seems he was waiting for us to show up from the very beginning,” the officer said. “Just as you predicted, Ms. Bridger, the suspect is the son of the deceased co–pilot. When we arrived, he offered no resistance, and what he splashed on Sidonie wasn’t real gasoline at all–it was a synthetic compound that, even if ignited, produces only a low–temperature flame.”
Quinn pressed her lips together. “May I speak with the suspect?”
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