Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Cole
I met Parker at her house before sunrise. She lived with her husband and baby near town on a cul-de-sac filled with enormous newly built homes. The driveway was clearly heated, as there wasn’t a flake of snow on it when I pulled in.
“Walk me through again,” Parker said, bouncing her baby on her shoulder.
“Charles Huxley owns Deimos,” I explained, pulling up the email Marcus had sent overnight, where he’d attached a list of over three dozen corporate holdings.
“The trailer park is owned by Phobos Management.”
She nodded.
“Which we know is owned by Charles and Dennis Huxley. And in Greek mythology, Phobos was the brother of Deimos.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“I know. But these receipts for campaign contributions do. Look.” I turned the laptop around so she could study it.
“Mayor Lambert is subject to federal campaign contribution laws. His aids spend months preparing these reports. Marcus told me that the Huxleys always contribute to local political and charitable campaigns. Usually as individuals, but occasionally from their corporate entities.”
Nodding, she slowly scrolled through the documents.
“And last year, someone screwed up and sent a payment from a bank account held by Deimos Industries. Which sent Marcus and the mayor’s staff on a wild adventure to determine ownership so their boss wouldn’t get investigated by the FEC.”
“And do you know what they found?”
“Deimos is owned by Scylla, Inc. I’m not great at understanding incorporation paperwork, but it appears to be an entity of Phobos Management.”
“And they own a ton of stuff.”
“Yeah, lots of real estate up here and on the mid-coast. Phobos shows up in FEC databases all the time. They are a politically active family, but someone messed up with Deimos.”
She was grinning now. “And the police chief?”
I slid the Post-it with the license plate number on it across the table. “I could swear I caught a glimpse of a fancy Swiss watch on his wrist. And my wife grabbed this plate number from the truck parked by the side of the road. It was a black F-350. Really fancy.”
“On it,” she said. “I can make a call to run the plate and put out some feelers. If we’ve connected Deimos to the Huxleys, then they have a lot of explaining to do. Not just for me, but with the FBI.”
“Good.” All of this—the corporate holdings, the late-night meetup—was raising red flags left and right.
“And you think the chief might be involved? I’ve had my suspicions since I started working with the Gagnons, but I’ve never found anything to indicate he’s not above board.”
“It could be my dislike of the man.” I shrugged. “But there was a clear vibe. At one point, he took off his gloves and reached into his coat.”
“Fuck,” Parker hissed.
“Exactly. This wasn’t some innocent roadside run-in. There was a third person too. But they peeled out the moment we arrived. And there were boxes in the bed of the truck. Gray plastic bins. And why would he take off his gloves—it was ten degrees out and snowing—if he wasn’t reaching for a gun?”
Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. “This could get ugly.”
“What could get ugly?” Pascal Gagnon sauntered in and scooped the baby girl out of Parker’s arm. “You promised no danger,” he growled.
She smiled up at him innocently. “My sweet husband is still traumatized from when your father kidnapped him.”
My heart plummeted. Fuck. When would we be free of my dad and all he’d done? His actions were so far-reaching I struggled to believe a day would come when we wouldn’t have this black cloud hanging over our heads.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, looking from Parker to Pascal and back. “I know it’s not enough.”
“Not your fault,” Pascal said, his tone neutral, as he bounced the baby.
“Still.” I roughed a hand down my face. “We all feel terrible. Hopefully Parker can help us put an end to all of this once and for all. The entire town needs to heal after all my father did.”
Pascal gave me a curt nod, and Parker patted my hand.
“You’ve given me a lot to work with. Go home, dig out, and wait to hear from me. I may need you to go back to the town archives and pull some things.”
Nodding, I stood.
“We’re close,” she said as she pushed her chair back. “This is so much bigger than anyone bargained for, but you’ve been incredibly helpful.”
Terror filled me at her comment. Was my family in danger? Was Willa in danger? The thought left me cold. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
“Are we in danger?”
Parker paused before responding, not usually a good sign. “I don’t know. After all that’s happened over the past few years, it’s always possible. So just lay low. Hopefully this is the break we need. I’ll be in touch after I speak to the FBI.”
I nodded and stood to leave.
“Cole,” she warned. “I mean it. Lay low, speak to no one, keep your nose clean, and wait for my instructions.”
My mind was spinning. The roads had finally been cleared, and the people in town were slowly emerging. Willa had texted that she was headed into work to see her afternoon patients, so I headed into town to grab a cup of coffee and think.
Unsurprisingly, the Caffeinated Moose was full. After a morning of shoveling, it was no wonder everyone wanted to gorge on muffins and lattes. I said hello to a few people while I waited for my order, then found an empty table and mulled over all the things I’d learned. My mind kept circling Chief Souza. What the hell had he been doing out there?
And why had he reached inside his coat?
My heart thundered in my chest at the thought of what could have happened. But my thoughts snagged on the glimpse I’d gotten of his wrist.
That watch.
My spidey senses were tingling. I needed to get a better look.
I headed up to the counter and gave Raeanna, the owner, a smile. “I’m headed over to visit my friend, Chief Souza,” I explained. “What is his usual order?”
Armed with a skim-milk peppermint mocha, I headed for the public safety building, determined to get answers. I could pop over to town hall across the street and do some digging around in the records, but my curiosity would not be sated. I’d been forced to listen to my father drone on and on about timepieces for years, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this one was important.
Martha, the dispatcher, greeted me warmly as I walked in. Her granddaughter played on my team, and she and her husband never missed a game.
“I brought a treat for the chief,” I said, my tone friendly. “Can I drop it off?”
She pointed me toward his office, where I knocked gently on the door.
“Come in.”
Souza’s face soured the moment he saw me. I had to duck my head under the frame to fit, but I walked right in and sat down without being invited to, both cups of coffee in hand.
“Raeanna said you enjoy a good peppermint mocha. Since you didn’t get much sleep last night, I figured you could use it.”
“Thank you,” he said curtly.
I studied the man I’d known since childhood, the guy who used to go on fishing trips with my father, who coached the high school baseball team once upon a time. He was tall and sturdy, his uniform crisply pressed and his face freshly shaven. He didn’t look worse for wear, despite his late-night snowstorm activities.
I placed the cup on his desk, far enough away that he would have to reach for it.
And that’s exactly what he did. The move caused the cuff of his uniform shirt to slide up just enough for me to spot a thick stainless-steel band etched in a familiar pattern.
He sipped the coffee and eyed me suspiciously.
“That’s quite a watch,” I said casually. I would know. It matched the one currently residing in my sock drawer.
He froze, his eyes narrowing, and my pulse quickened.
He knew I knew. I had no doubt. “You know a lot about watches, son?”
Channeling all the calm I could muster, I leaned back and sipped my latte. “Enough to know that small-town police chiefs don’t usually wear fifty-thousand-dollar watches.”
“Watch yourself,” he growled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His red face and clenched fists told me everything I needed to know. I’d hit a nerve. He was hiding something, and that was definitely my father’s watch.
“Maybe not.” I stood and shrugged nonchalantly. “But I know an Audemars Piguet when I see one. Did your friends at Deimos Industries give it to you?”
He stood abruptly, knocking his peppermint mocha over. “Get the fuck out of my office,” he yelled as the dark liquid seeped across the papers on his desk.
Having gotten what I needed, I gave him a mock salute. “Have a great day, Chief.”