Chapter 4
Cora
"Please explain to me why they couldn't come to us?" William asks, his eyes locked outside of the car as we trudge along slowly through Pigeon Forge.
"They scheduled the meeting," I explain. "I didn't argue. We're lucky they're willing to meet with us."
"Lucky." He scoffs under his breath. "Lucky would've been if Sadie wasn't such a brat or, hell, if she was never born at all. Our family could've done a lot better had she not been so willing to show her ass around every turn."
"Don't say things like that," I chastise. "She's our sister."
"This is a waste of time and effort. She'll come crawling back and beg for more money for drugs like she always does."
"She has never stayed gone this long," I remind him. "Not without so much as a text or answering her phone and telling me to leave her alone before hanging up."
I glance toward the chauffeur, but he doesn't seem the least amount interested in our conversation, and, for that, I'm glad.
We flew into the area on a small private jet, another favor we'll owe Senator Dyer for I have no doubt. The drive through town is stop-and-go due to all the red lights, but it doesn't take as long as I know it can during peak tourist time. I love this area of East Tennessee. I've had the chance to visit here a handful of times in my life, although I can't remember the last time I was able to, right off hand.
William runs his hands down the front of his suit jacket as the car turns into the parking lot of a small, non-descript building. Other than a sedan and a dark SUV parked outside, there seem to be no others around.
William straightens from the car, letting the chauffeur help me out on my side, and I see the transition in him the second he faces the front of the building. He has gone from a man willing to be mildly inconvenienced in the back of a sedan to a politician who might win a vote or two if he does his job well today. But the problem is, this is a family matter. This isn't a job interview, and I'm wondering if William is even capable of recognizing the differences any more.
"Senator Dyer," William says when he enters the building.
The two men shake hands, and I step forward for the greeting, feeling no kind of way with how the senator steps in closer to me and brushes a kiss on my temple.
"William, Cora, this is Diego Anderson and his colleague Eddie Yarrow."
A stocky man in slacks and a long-sleeved sweater steps forward, his hand expected first to William before he holds it out to me. I immediately notice the tattoos that peek out on his wrist when he extends his hand past my brother, and as much as it shouldn't, it makes me view him a little differently.
"Eddie Yarrow," the other man says, drawing my attention from Mr. Anderson.
I shake his hand as well. This man seems to fit more into this situation. He doesn't look out of place in his button-down shirt and slacks.
The other man is wearing boots that seem more tactical than anything else.
"Senator Dyer," I whisper when the other men walk further into the room and begin to sit at a long conference table. "What organization did you say these men were from?"
"Cerberus MC, ma'am," Mr. Anderson says, as if he were meant to be right in the middle of our conversation.
"MC? As in motorcycle club?" William asks before turning back to glare at me, as if I've gotten the family in trouble this time rather than Sadie.
"I assure you, Kincaid and his associates are the best at what they do," Senator Dyer says.
"Kincaid?" I ask, confused.
"That's me. But before anyone gets too deep into judging us, we still haven't agreed to take the case. If you'd like to get started?" Kincaid points to the empty spots across the table from him and the other guy introduced as Eddie Yarrow.
"I swear the shit you get us into," William grouses as we cross the room and take our seats.
I feel deflated as I take the seat my brother finds enough of his manners to pull out for me. I had put a lot of hope into this meeting, but I don't know what a couple of bikers can do for our family. I know I'm passing judgment and that's the very last thing I should do, considering the trouble and people Sadie has found to associate with, but I can't seem to help it.
What I do know is that I trust Senator Dyer, and if he says these guys are the best, then I have to believe it.
"We have a little bit of information," Mr. Anderson begins. "But I'd like it if you could give us a little more detail. If we take this case, Ace will need to know everything."
"Ace?" William asks.
Mr. Yarrow lifts his hand in acknowledgment.
"Sorry for the nicknames," Mr. Anderson apologizes. "Old habits. We've known each other for decades."
"Sadie has a wild streak," I begin, ignoring the way William discreetly presses his shoe next to mine. It's a warning to keep it short and simple. I can tell he already regrets getting on the plane this morning, but I can't lose the opportunity for these men to find our sister. "She has a history with drugs and running around with the wrong crowd."
"We know about the video when she was younger," Mr. Anderson says. I know that has to chap William's ass because my father worked very hard to make it go away, but once it's on the internet, it's there forever.
The media likes to remind people of it when they have a slow media day, and opponents in any campaign the Preston name has been connected to are quick to bring it up too, as if the choices of one person in the family determine the value of everyone else.
"The last time we saw her was three weeks ago yesterday," I continue.
"And what happened during that meeting?" Mr. Anderson prods.
"I told her the family had had enough. We were no longer going to support her drug habit. I told her she needed to grow up and take the feelings of those who love her into consideration when she was making her bad choices." I clear my throat, but it doesn't stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
I've relived this conversation over and over, and there are days I wish we had never had it. Those days, I wish I had just let her keep the pieces of our mother's jewelry that she was trying to steal. Other days, I'm able to straighten a little and know I made the right choice.
"She was there stealing jewelry because I had told her the day before on the phone that I wasn't going to give her any more money until she went to rehab."
"According to our records, Sadie had been to rehab three times in the past," Mr. Yarrow says without having to look at the folder in front of him. It's clear the man prepared for this meeting, and that makes me feel a little better about this situation .
I dip my head. "She was in rehab when our father passed away. She checked herself out when she was given the news, and has never gone back as far as I know."
"And the credit card she has?"
I feel the burn of William's eyes on the side of my face.
"You wouldn't give her cash but you handed her a credit card?" William growls. "What a way to stand your ground, Cora."
"She stole the credit card," I confess. "When I noticed the extra charges, I knew it was her and didn't report the card stolen."
"Jesus," William snaps.
"It was a way for you to track her," Mr. Yarrow says. "So you knew she was okay?"
I nod, finding that I sort of like this guy.
He looks at my brother. "If she filed the card as stolen, the credit company would've gone after Sadie in a legal battle."
"She could've canceled it," William argues, his tone dismissive and annoyed.
"There's been no activity on it since the day after I told her to leave the house and to never come back unless it was to get help with her drug addiction," I explain. "That's when I got nervous."
"The last cell phone ping we had was close to DC. Records indicate that she might've visited a home at 1502 W Pace. Are either of you familiar with the place?"
I shake my head, looking over at William who takes a second longer to respond. I can tell that he's purposely acting obstinate.
Eventually, he shakes his head.
"It's suspected of being a brothel," Mr. Yarrow continues.
"What?" I ask, a sob on my lips. "You think Sadie is having to sell her body for money? "
My hands are trembling at the thought of her being put in such a horrible situation because I had a bad day and told her to leave and not come back.
"Really?" William asks, his attention on me. "Wouldn't getting paid be a lot better than her just giving it away for free like she's been doing for years?"
I glare at him and the callous way he's speaking about Sadie.
"William," both Senator Dyer and I snap at the same time.
There are conversations you can have in private that can't be had in mixed company, but, honestly, if they know about the video which happened to be a recording of her having an orgy with a handful of college guys, then they know just how free with herself she's been.
"I think you have a case here. I won't disclose a lot of information because we have more than one case happening in the area, but I can tell you that a link to that house is dangerous," Mr. Anderson says as he leans forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the table. "Now you have to decide if you want us to work for you or not."
They've already found more information than I've been able to find on my own, so I'm all for having them help, but there are also certain provisions we have to make sure are in place. Knowing Sadie, there's no way to determine what sort of situation she might be found in.
"We need utmost discretion," I begin.
"You've got to be joking," William snaps. "What is this going to cost us?"
"The total fee depends on how extensive the case ends up being, but our fee to even get started is a hundred," Mr. Anderson says.
"Only a hundred bucks?" I ask.
The men across the table both smile.
"A hundred thousand. If you don't have it, then I'll front the money," Senator Dyer says .
"No," William growls.
"Your father was a dear friend of mine—"
"I'll pay it," I interrupt.
William can get as mad as he wants, and it won't matter. I need Sadie home, and if it takes all of my savings, then I'll spend it. And when she's back, I'll hog-tie her and carry her to treatment my damned self. It's about time someone forced her to do the right thing. She doesn't have to be happy about it, but there's a part of me that imagines she'll be grateful for the help in the long run.
"I'll want frequent check-ins. I want to know what progress you're making on finding her," I demand.
"We'll keep you as informed as we possibly can, but we operate on a need-to-know basis. There may be sensitive details that you'll never be privileged to," Mr. Anderson says, topping it off with a kind smile, as if it will take the sting out of it.
My lip twitches in irritation, but the longer I stare at him, the less I feel like he's saying this just because I'm a woman.
"We'll need DNA from you two," Mr. Yarrow adds as we stand up.
"The hell you do," William quickly says.
"If we find her in less than savory conditions, we'll need to have it for familial comparison," he continues. "We only need a sample from one of you."
I dip my head in agreement, knowing I'll do anything to bring my sister home.