Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Henry
Blake was already in my office when I walked in. Black suit. Crisp shirt. Dark hair styled with precision. Facial hair neatly trimmed. The only thing out of place was the chaos swallowing my office.
Four Banker’s boxes rested on the floor near the coffee table, overflowing with manila files, the smell of paper and dust thick in the air. Blake sat on the couch, flipping through papers like a man possessed, the edge of his jaw tight.
“What’s all this?” I asked, furrowing my brows in confusion.
“The files you wanted,” he said, not looking up. “The women Victor had Schaffer sterilize.”
“What are you talking about? This isn’t just a few like he claimed.”
He finally met my eyes. “This is why I wanted you to see this. He lied.”
“Where did you find these?” I asked, taking in all the files.
“His charity runs a few clinics in Florida. I found these at one outside Tampa. I’m guessing it’s where he performed all the procedures.”
“Fuck…” I exhaled.
“Exactly.” Blake returned his attention to the papers in front of him as I joined him on the couch.
“I’m running their names through a program I built. It’ll crawl through every state database — DMV, court records, even old social media caches. See if I can find a common denominator other than Victor paying Schaffer to sterilize them.”
“Anything yet?”
“I’ve only checked five names so far, but I haven’t found much connecting them except for the fact that the last transaction on their bank accounts was a few days prior to the date Schaffer performed their procedures, according to his records.”
“What the fuck was he involved in?” I asked, although I feared I already knew the answer.
“I can only think of one reason Victor would want to make sure this many women couldn’t get pregnant.” Blake gave me a pointed stare. “And I doubt it’s because he was keeping them all as mistresses.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re right.”
This was so much bigger than I’d expected. I’d wanted these files in the hopes of finding a list of mistresses on the off-chance it might lead us to Victor’s hiding place.
Instead, we’d uncovered proof of something much worse.
A goddamn human trafficking operation, if my gut was right.
“Guess I’d better make some coffee.” I pushed up from the couch. “Looks like we’ll be here a while.”
The kitchen was quiet except for the persistent drip of the coffeemaker. I braced my hands on the counter and stared out the window, trying to steady the chaos in my mind.
Victor Kane had always been a sadist. I’d seen the evidence of what he’d done to Ariana. But this… This was industrialized cruelty. Organized. Systematic.
I wished Schaffer were still alive so I could kill him again for the role he played. And for lying to me about it.
The only silver lining was the fact that Victor was still alive.
I’d make him suffer for all of this. For Sarah. For Ariana. And for every single one of the women in those files.
I’d make sure justice was served.
Even if it was the last thing I did.
Once the coffee finished brewing, I poured two mugs and brought them back to the office. Blake glanced my way as I entered, then returned his focus to the folder, his mouth tightening before he tossed it aside.
“Everything okay?” I asked, sitting beside him and placing a mug in front of him.
He gave a short, humorless laugh as he took a sip of coffee. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“I just…” He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Never mind. Let’s see what we can find out about these women. See if they can lead us to Victor… Or them.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I dropped my voice. “Is this about the girl you keep looking for? Chandler something?”
His shoulders stiffened. Then he pushed out a long breath. “I guess a part of me was hoping she’d be in here,” he admitted quietly. “But at the same time, praying she wasn’t.”
I knew that kind of hope. The kind that tore you apart either way.
“Who is she?”
“Just someone I used to know.”
“Did you—”
“Sarah’s not in here, either,” he said before I could ask.
I didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. My gut told me there had to be a connection between this recent development and everything else that was going on — Sarah’s death, Ariana’s abduction, the Bratva.
I could feel us getting closer. But with every new piece of information, new questions arose.
“Well…” I sighed, taking a fortifying sip of coffee. “Let’s get to work.”
Hours later, my office looked like a war room. Files littered every surface, a map of the U.S. dotted with colored pins marking each woman’s last known city and date hung on the wall. Another wall held rows of photographs — young women smiling in frozen snapshots of ordinary lives.
“Now what should we do?” Blake asked, rubbing his neck.
I didn’t answer right away, unable to shake the feeling we were missing something. I focused on the various cities. Santa Fe. Santa Monica. Austin. Chicago. Boston. San Francisco. Miami.
If the women had been concentrated in one area, maybe it would have made sense. But they were spread out. Dozens of cities over the course of several years.
I kept staring at the map, something about these cities in particular standing out in my mind.
“What is it?” Blake asked, obviously sensing the wheels spinning.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Remember what you taught me. Leave no stone unturned. What are you thinking?”
“These disappearances,” I began, walking up to the map and pointing to the pin by Flagstaff. “One of Sarah’s last videos was from there. And around the same time, if my memory is correct.”
I grabbed my phone and navigated to Sarah’s social media feed, scrolling to the video from Flagstaff. Then I checked the date against when Wendy Allen had last used her debit or credit card.
Only one week prior to Sarah’s post.
I scrolled again, landing on a video from Sonoma. Posted ten days after Susan Wynter disappeared. Then a video from Boise. Posted six days after Gretchen Storm vanished.
“What if Victor wasn’t having an affair with Sarah?
” I asked excitedly, my brain spinning with possibilities.
“What if she was investigating him?” I gestured toward the map, toward the web of pins and faces.
“Santa Fe. Sonoma. Boise. Flagstaff. She visited all these cities shortly after these women disappeared.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed, scanning the map again. “It could just be a coincidence.”
I shot him a look. “You know how I feel about coincidences. Sarah was on to something. And Victor realized it. Now we just need to prove it.”
Blake blew out a long sigh. “Looks like we’ll need some more coffee.”