Chapter 21
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Peoria, Illinois
Flint’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the predawn silence. Cold air leaked through the window seals making the heating unit work overtime with a loud and steady mechanical hum.
He rolled over and checked the caller ID. Gaspar.
Flint cleared his throat and took the call with a husky, “You’re up early.”
“Never went to sleep. Got the report on those Illinois adoptions.” Gaspar’s wired energy was fueled by too much caffeine and too little rest. “Seven cases match the profile.”
Flint sat up in bed. “Tell me.”
“All from the same eighteen-month window. All children with no verifiable family history. All placed in sealed adoptions due to protective circumstances.” The sound of keyboard clicks came through the phone. “Before you ask, no. The circumstances are not listed.”
“Any other similarities?” Flint threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to go back to sleep.
“Each case involved children who entered the system with false or incomplete identities. That’s as close as they all come.
Mothers died in accidents. Fathers missing.
Families disappeared. Kids found abandoned with no traceable relatives.
” Gaspar read from his notes. “Social services treated all seven cases as high-risk placements requiring extra security measures.”
Flint walked to the window, bare feet cold against the hotel room’s thin carpet. The parking lot spread below the window, empty except for a few scattered vehicles dusted with morning frost. Dawn was breaking over the flat Illinois farmland, painting the winter sky in shades of gray and pale gold.
“Any of the cases definitively connected to the Fisher kids?”
“That’s the problem. Without access to the sealed adoption records, we can’t make positive identifications.
The foster care records only show the names for the initial placements.
” Gaspar’s frustration came through clearly.
“I’ve got families in Peoria, Springfield, Chicago, and four other Illinois cities.
All adopted children in the right age range. All with sealed files.”
“Sealed files that require court orders to unseal, I gather.”
“Every single one. No exceptions.”
Flint considered the tactical situation. Seven potential targets. Multiple jurisdictions. Months of legal proceedings to gain access to records that might not even contain the information they needed.
“There’s another problem,” Gaspar continued. “Even if we get court orders, some of these families might have moved out of state. Illinois only tracks adoptions within their jurisdiction. After that, the trail goes cold.”
“Did you happen to look through records in Kentucky?” Flint asked.
“You think the kids could have been adopted in other states?” Gaspar replied.
“I don’t know. But can you do a quick check?” Flint rubbed the stubble on his jaw. He needed a shave. There was a single-cup coffee pot in the room. He walked over to make it while his brain slowly came to life.
“This investigation has reached a critical decision point,” Gaspar said. “You can spend massive resources over the next several months to years and maybe learn what you need to know.”
“Meanwhile, Jason Fisher is growing more impatient and hostile forces are actively hunting those kids.” Flint said as he pushed the button for the coffee and inhaled the heavenly aroma as it brewed.
“Yeah, and they won’t care whether the means and methods they use are legal or not,” Gaspar said matter-of-factly. “But we can’t spend months looking, either.”
“Okay. Right. Send me everything you have,” Flint said after a sip of the marginal coffee. “Names, locations, whatever details are available. We’ll figure something out.”
“Already in your secure email. Drake’s, too.” Gaspar hesitated. “There’s one more thing. I ran background checks on the adoptive families. Three of them have moved out of state in the past five years. Two changed their surnames after the adoptions.”
“Making them harder to track.”
“Yep,” Gaspar said as he signed off.
Flint checked his encrypted email. He found Gaspar’s files, which contained detailed intelligence on seven adoption cases.
Each presented a potential path to Jason Fisher’s siblings.
But Fisher had no patience for the time and effort that would be required.
Neither did Flint. He needed a better approach.
He reviewed the case summaries carefully. He needed a thread he could unravel. Social services had treated these children as high priority, requiring maximum protection. Sealed records. New identities. Careful placement with specialized families.
Flint shook his head. He had seen state and federal witness protection files with less security than these adoptions. He recognized similar standard procedures for children fleeing dangerous situations.
His phone rang. Drake.
“You done reading Gaspar’s report?” Drake said without preamble. “Seven families. No definitive matches.”
“Yeah. The legal barriers are even worse than what you described yesterday.” Flint finished the coffee and looked around for a room service menu. “Court orders for sealed records. Family court judges who take privacy seriously. Months of proceedings, if we can succeed at all.”
The hotel room felt smaller after spending the night. He found the room service menu and made his selections.
“Jason Fisher isn’t going to wait months for answers,” Drake said. “You know he’s been calling asking for updates.”
“We need a different approach.” Flint opened the case files again and considered the options.
But Jason Fisher had resources they lacked. Unlimited funding. Legal teams. Political connections. Most importantly, he had standing as a family member seeking a reunion with blood relatives.
And giving Fisher something to do would keep him out of Flint’s way for a while. Maybe.
“I’ll call Fisher,” Flint said. “Delegate the legal issues to him. Maybe he’s got a contact in the governor’s office or the Illinois Attorney General who can speed things up.”
“Good. Calling in favors is what these billionaires do best.” Drake was quiet for a moment. “What will we do while we’re waiting?”
Flint reviewed Gaspar’s intelligence again. Seven adoption cases. Multiple families.
But the records only told part of the story. Real people had lived through these situations. Neighbors remembered unusual circumstances. Social workers handled difficult placements. Administrative staff processed paperwork.
People talked. Especially about memorable cases involving traumatized children and mysterious backgrounds.
“Human intelligence,” Flint said. “Find people who were involved in these placements. Interview them. Gather information that’s not in the official files.”
“The kind of intel that might help us narrow down the options,” Drake replied with approval.
“Exactly. Fisher’s lawyers can handle the court orders. We’ll handle the fieldwork,” Flint said. “Somebody will know something, say something, and we’ll find the right direction.”
“Solid plan,” Drake said. “What’s up first?”
“Breakfast. I’m planning to order breakfast sent up. Want anything?” Flint asked as he picked up the desk phone to make the call.
Drake ordered ham and eggs and a pot of coffee. “Be there in ten. I’ll get a shower and come up.”
“Bring your stuff. We’ll leave from here.” Flint hung up and then called room service and headed to the shower.
Before he got there, his laptop chimed with an incoming video call request. Jason Fisher.
For a moment, Flint considered ignoring the call. But Fisher wouldn’t give up. He’d call back until Flint finally answered.
“Might as well do it now,” Flint said aloud as he moved to the small table near the bed, opened the laptop, and accepted the call.
Fisher’s face filled the screen, lean and intense even at this early hour. His dark eyes held the focused energy that had built a tech empire, while his slightly receding hairline caught the morning light streaming through what appeared to be floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.
The background suggested Fisher was calling from one of his penthouses, probably New York given the urban skyline visible through the glass.
“Tell me you have news.” Fisher said with the impatience of a man accustomed to immediate compliance.
“Possibly,” Flint said.
“What does that mean?” Fisher demanded.
“Well, you have the video of the man you believe is your brother, either Kevin or Dylan. So we’re assuming at least one of them survived,” Flint said calmly.
“We’ve identified seven potential families that could have adopted him in Illinois.
All involve sealed adoption records requiring court orders to access, which might take months. Maybe longer.”
Fisher was quiet for several beats. His eyes narrowed as he processed the information. Behind him, the city was waking up, early morning traffic creating streams of light in the distance. “That’s unacceptable.”
“Which is why I’m recommending that you take over. Use your lawyers and family connection to expedite the process. Or call in a favor from the Governor. Whatever you have to do to find out whether Kevin or Dylan was adopted in Illinois,” Flint suggested.
Fisher leaned forward, “While you do what?”
“We might have another lead. We’re chasing it down. If it pans out, I’ll let you know.”
Fisher considered the suggestion. His fingertips were pressing together at the tips, in and out, a repetitive gesture that suggested his methodical thinking process. The morning light had shifted to illuminate the sharp angles of his face. “You think it will work?”
“It’s our best option if you want to get the answers quickly.”
“What do you need from me for your part?”
“I’ll let you know when we exhaust your retainer.
” Flint pulled up Gaspar’s list and emailed it to Fisher.
“These are the potential placements we’ve identified as most likely.
Your legal team can file petitions to open the sealed adoption records in each jurisdiction.
Frame it as a family reunion case. Emphasize your desire to reconnect with your brother who survived a family tragedy. ”
“That’s actually true.” Fisher’s expression softened slightly, a rare glimpse of the emotional stakes behind his business-like exterior.
“Which will make your petition more compelling to family court judges. They’re more likely to unseal records for legitimate family reunification than for general investigation purposes.”
“I can have my lawyers file petitions today.” Fisher’s tone shifted to all business. His shoulders straightened as he made the mental switch. “What’s your timeline?”
“Depends on what we find. But we’ll move faster than the court proceedings,” Flint replied. “If you get anything sooner from your contacts, pass it along and we’ll check it out.”
“I’ll get my team started immediately.” Fisher’s image flickered as he reached for something off-screen, probably making notes or sending messages to his attorneys.
Flint ended the video call and headed to the shower. He finished getting dressed and gathered his gear just as room service rapped on the door.
He was still considering resource allocation, strategic delegation, and multiple approaches working toward the same objective.
As the waiter was leaving, Drake slipped into the room, tossing his duffel onto the bed. He took a seat at the table and lifted the cover from his plate. “Fisher on board with the plan?”
“Yeah.”
“You tell him that Lizzy and the kids survived the fire?” Drake had poured coffee and was shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“No. Until we have more intel, I don’t want him bigfooting us or making things worse,” Flint replied as he took the seat across from Drake. “We’ll be heading back to Ravenswood.”
“Why?” Drake asked after he swallowed the eggs.
“Lizzy Pace lived in Ravenswood for almost two years before her death. She had relationships. People who knew her. Details about her life that weren’t in any official records,” Flint said.
“We can ask her boss, Patel, the convenience store owner to give us some names of neighbors who might remember more details of Lizzy’s life with the kids while she was there,” Drake replied, finishing his food.
“I’ve got an SUV. Your rental is destroyed, so just leave it here. Call the rental company to pick it up.” Flint packed his laptop. “You bring your bags?”
“Yeah. I’m ready when you are,” Drake replied, dropping his napkin on the table and collecting his duffel. “Let’s go.”
Flint’s phone buzzed with a message from Jason Fisher. Legal team mobilized. Expect court filings today in all seven jurisdictions. Keep me informed of your progress.
He read the text aloud to Drake.
“Fisher works fast when he’s motivated,” Drake said on his way out. “Good to know.”
Flint replied: Understood. He dropped the phone into his pocket, checked his weapon and travel gear, and headed out behind Drake.