Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 187: Chapter 187

I assumed he meant that because he was worried for Shirley, so I reached over, giving his shoulder a light pat. I forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "We'll get to her soon," I said, trying to keep things positive.
But at that moment, something shifted inside me. I wasn't as repelled by York as I had been before.
He might have done things in the past that made me angry, but right then, I could see that he was a man who cared deeply for his family.
By the time we pulled up to the police station, it was fully dark outside.
I glanced at the clock. It was already 7:40 PM.
Inside the station, we were greeted by Officer Robert Taylor, the one who had called me earlier.
"Hi there, I'm Robert. Come on in, have a seat," he said, guiding us into the small reception room.
I didn't waste any time. "Mr. Taylor, how's my mom?"
After confirming our identities, Robert motioned to a colleague to bring us some coffee.
As soon as the door was shut behind us, Robert's face turned serious.
My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn't help the urgency in my voice. "Where's my mom?"
From the way Robert looked at me, I had a sinking feeling. This wasn't going to be as simple as I'd hoped.
"Jenny's been arrested for unlawful imprisonment and kidnapping Shirley," Robert explained, his words cutting straight to the point. "But when we caught her, Shirley was already gone."
"She's gone?" York slammed his fist onto the desk, knocking his coffee cup over.
I was still reeling from the shock of hearing that Shirley was missing when York's furious voice brought me back to reality.
"Mr. Smith, please, calm down," Robert said quickly, trying to defuse the situation. "We've already set up a task force to find your mother."
Robert seemed taken aback by York's outburst. As a seasoned cop, he'd seen a lot—good people, bad people, even violent suspects. But the look in his eyes when he studied York was a mix of surprise and wariness.
I followed Robert's gaze toward York. A cold chill ran through me as I saw the murderous look in York's eyes. His anger was palpable.
"I just want to know where my mother is," York's voice was low and laced with fury, his gaze fixed on Robert as if he were ready to tear into him.
I tugged gently at the hem of York's jacket, my voice a whisper. "We don't know why Jenny kidnapped Mom yet. Let's not jump to conclusions."
York hesitated, but slowly, his anger seemed to cool. He sank back into his seat.
Robert visibly relaxed, shooting me a grateful look. He then began explaining the details of what had happened.
"We reviewed the call logs. This morning, Jenny contacted Shirley. For reasons we don't fully understand, Shirley agreed to meet her and went alone to Jenny's rented house in Enschester. While they were talking, Shirley drank some coffee that Jenny had prepared, but it had been laced with a sedative.
"After Shirley passed out, Jenny took her to a house out in the country," Robert continued, sliding several photos across the table.
The pictures were sharp and clear. They showed a run-down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. The yard was overgrown with weeds, cobwebs clung to the walls, and the paint had long since peeled off. It looked like the place had been abandoned for years.
In one corner of the yard, there was a woman's handbag. My heart stopped when I saw it—it was Shirley's. The same designer bag I had bought her for her birthday.
There were more photos, too—scratches on the wall, streaked with blood. They looked like signs of a struggle.
As I looked at the photos, a wave of terror washed over me. My hands shook as I picked them up, the weight of the situation crashing down on me. I could barely hold onto the pictures as my mind raced.
York's face went pale, his hands shaking as he flicked through the photos. He fought to keep his emotions in check, his voice tight with barely contained anger as he asked, "Robert, is this where Jenny kidnapped and hid my mother?"
"Yeah," Robert replied, his voice heavy. "Jenny brought your mom to that abandoned farmhouse. After she woke up, she tried to escape. She screamed for help in the yard."
Robert pulled out a photo of a villager, pointing to the man in the image. "This is the guy who called the cops. He was on his way home from working the farm when he heard your mom's cries. He realized something wasn't right and dialed us."
York's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "So, you're telling me that, with the villager's tip, you still couldn't rescue my mom?"
His voice was low but seething with frustration. "Even if Jenny had help, you should've been able to get something out of her. This is your job! Why haven't you found anything? Why is she still missing?"
His anger mirrored my confusion. I couldn't help but look at Robert, waiting for him to explain.
But Robert didn't flinch. He stayed calm, speaking slowly. "We responded immediately after getting the call. We didn't want to alert the kidnappers, so we sent plainclothes officers to investigate."
"We caught Jenny, but your mom wasn't at the farmhouse. It's possible her accomplices moved her before we got there. We're expanding the search," Robert continued, his tone businesslike, almost rehearsed.
My fingers tightened around the photos, my mind racing.
Robert softened a little. "I understand how this looks. We did find Shirley's contact information through a document in her bag at the scene."
It hit me then, the realization dawning on me. "So Jenny hasn't said anything?" I whispered, my heart sinking.I couldn't believe it.
The only reason the police had found me was because of a document in Shirley's purse. Jenny hadn't said a word—nothing at all about what had happened, or where Shirley was.
Robert nodded, his expression grim. "That's right. Everything I've told you is based on what we've been able to piece together from the clues. We've been digging into Jenny's background, trying to find something that would make her crack, but so far, nothing."
My stomach tightened.
Robert let out a frustrated sigh. "We even brought in a psychologist to help. We thought maybe Jenny had a vendetta, something deeper going on. We tried hypnosis, but she's been stonewalling us—won't talk, won't tell us anything, not even where Shirley is."
I couldn't understand why Jenny was so fixated on Shirley.
Just then, York's voice cut through the room, cold and commanding. "I want to see Jenny."
After a long, tense silence, Robert nodded reluctantly.
A few moments later, we were led to an interrogation room.
Through the glass, I saw a frail woman slumped in a chair, her hands cuffed tightly to the arms of the seat.