Isla stared blankly at Grayson, unable to form a response, gaze fixed on the wrist locked in his grip.
Exhaustion pulled at her hard, but she forced herself to fight it back.
"Mr. Vale," she managed weakly, "how did you know I'd been taken? How'd you even find me?"
Grayson kept one hand on the wheel, the other still anchoring her wrist. He glanced over at the question.
"Richard Bennett," he said, eyes back on the road.
"He's the one who tipped you off?" Isla asked, genuinely surprised.
The conversation was distracting her from the exhaustion, at least some of the color returning to her mood despite everything.
"No. I noticed something off with his behavior a large cash withdrawal that didn't match any legitimate spending. Had his phone monitored. That's how the information came thro
