AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Deflecting?”
I crouch down as I ease the drawer out.
“Shit. There’s something…” I reach in and carefully pull out the paper that’s stuck to the top of the drawer shelf. “A birth certificate…”
Oh, fuck me to hell and back. It’s an original birth certificate, and there’s writing on the back. Small. With a legend. Names, and on the other side, the code numbers and letters. “I just found the fucking key.”
“On a birth certificate.”
“Oh, fuck yes, right on the back, and you’re not going to fucking believe it,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. “The certificate’s for Amelia Hanlon. The father’s Dale. Dale fucking Hanlon. That prick bastard.”
I hang up on Smith, take photos, and send them straight through to Smith and to Jones. Then I run my finger down the list. No Dark Desires. No Bishop or even a chess piece.
But… I remember something I saw at Grant’s house that time I showed up with Scarlett. I snapped a picture of it.
Rook. I think that was the word. I didn’t take much note then, but… if we’re going to go chess… DDa4—a4’s part of the language of chess. Bishop could be rook, and DD’s a no-brainer, if taken out of context. Dark Desires. Yes, Hanlon Shipping uses AA, DD, CC, ZZ for shipment’s sake, but what if that particular one is a code?
I send a text about it to Smith.
“Now all I need is a call from whoever’s got Amelia.” They’re definitely going to call. If they contacted Grant, they’re going to call me. What they’re doing is giving me time to find this list.
But they won’t be getting it. I want blunt force, so Orion’s standing by. We have eyes on Bishop. Eyes on that asshole I beat to shit last night.
It stands to reason that it might be Bishop because it’s the simplest answer, I think, as I open the safe down in the office with the same code as upstairs. Dale Hanlon isn’t exactly imaginative.
Simple, but I don’t know. What I do want to do is check on Scarlett. I resist. She’s safe and she’s got the ability to distract me in ways that are dangerous. Ways that undo me. Just fucking ways.
My heart squeezes to a stop and my blood turns to ice as I see a photo in the safe.
Mom.
With shaking hands, I pull it out, vaguely aware of the tsunami of rage coursing through my insides. She’s there at a party with my fucking father and a beardless Grant. Grant and Dale look a lot more alike than I thought at that age. There are other women in the photo, too. One of them’s clearly Scarlett’s mom; I can pick out the resemblance. The other must be Amelia’s mom. She’s young here, maybe eighteen. Both Amelia and Scarlett hold their father’s looks, too.
Dale.
Rapist.
Motherfucker.
Now brother’s wife stealer. Fuck, maybe he raped her, too. Made her put his name on one certificate, because why the fuck would Grant work with his brother if he knew?
I try to calm my breathing as I pocket the photo. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe because I don’t have a photo of my mother. Or maybe I want evidence. I want to be reminded of my mission.
Because Scarlett gets in the way of that, too.
I didn’t even fucking realize that until this moment.
Shit. She’s dangerous.
Suddenly I turn and call Grant.
“Are you there, JM?”
“Not yet. Traffic,” I say, not sure why I’m lying, but it feels right. I don’t trust his brother and I don’t trust him. “Heard anything?”
“No.”
“Maybe,” I say, “we should be ready to contact the police. If you really don’t have any idea where the list is, then…”
