Chapter 22
Dash eyed Emerson, glaring a warning after being scented.
He knew the man probably smelled Jackson on him, but now wasn’t the time for explanations.
Hopefully the hint of possessiveness he’d already seen in Emerson wouldn’t come out while Randall was there.
Emerson eyed Dash, an odd mix of emotions in his eyes, but he thankfully bit his tongue.
Emerson walked to the fridge and returned with a bottle of water from it, clearly not pleased. Dash took the bottle and turned towards Randall, who watched them both very closely.
Ignoring Randall’s too keen gaze, he walked to the booth table and slipped in opposite from the guy. “Thanks for agreeing to talk with me.”
“I’m still not sure I should,” Randall muttered.
“Do you mind telling me why you didn’t feel safe talking at the precinct?”
Randall drew in a deep breath. “There’s been a lot of pressure lately.” He turned to Emerson. “Any way possible we could take this thing out of the marina? As far from the land as you can get—but not too close to the seaside wall?”
Emerson’s gaze flew to Dash’s before returning to Randall’s. “Is this that serious?”
Randall cut his eyes at Emerson. “I just… want to ensure we’re not listened in on.”
Dash tensed. When Emerson focused on him, a question in his eyes, Dash nodded.
“I’ll go fire up the engine. It might take a minute. I haven’t taken the boat out in a bit,” Emerson said, concern in his eyes.
Emerson walked out, and Dash soon heard the engine crank on. The entire boat began to slowly vibrate.
“That engine needs some work,” Randall said, chuckling. “As noisy as it is, it might be all the cover we need.”
“Do we really need cover?”
“Maybe. I don’t know,” Randall said. “It’s already come across my captain’s desk that you’d pulled arrest reports from the night of the last raid. He’d seen you approach me and asked what I knew.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you’d run security for Harrison during the arsons and I’d met you then. You’d asked me about the Charles Macklin case and that I’d not known much.”
“And he said?”
“That if you came sniffing again, to keep everything about the raids under wraps,” Randall said.
“And is that what you plan to do?” Dash asked, tensing.
Randall sighed. “Why don’t you tell me what you know and I’ll decide from there?”
Dash was leery. Randall could be fishing to see what he knew. “Seems like a one-sided plan. What do I get out of it?”
“My continued silence,” Randall murmured.
Dash drew in a steadying breath. “Blackmail?”
“No,” Randall said. “But I think I’ve already done one favor for you. It’s time you pay up.”
Dash searched his face. Considering he had very little so far, he opted for the truth.
“I’ve basically told you what I have. A missing alpha I connected with the Dragon. He went missing around the time of the previous raid there.”
“You mentioned other alphas missing,” Randall said.
“A reporter outside the Municipal Center made that claim with your commander at the press conference I stumbled on. I was hoping you could help me substantiate that claim, given the possibility the man I’m looking for might be one name on a list of many.”
Randall leaned closer. “Which reporter?”
Dash shrugged. “I’ll share more if you do.”
Randall watched him a moment. “Did he mention how many were missing?”
“He claims there have been…” Dash paused to check his notes. “Eight raids in six months with a missing or dead alpha corresponding to nearly all.”
Randall nodded, glancing out the small, round window beside them. He looked lost in thought.
“Are the claims true?” Dash asked.
Randall released a long, slow breath before unzipping a backpack at his side. He came out with several thick files and laid them on the table. He opened up the first just as Emerson returned to the salon. Randall lifted his gaze to his brother.
“We’re as far out as we can go without reaching the outer seawall,” Emerson said.
“Thank you,” Randall said. He turned his attention back to Dash. “By my count, there are eleven missing alphas. An even dozen if I don’t have your client’s name on my list.”
Dash’s brows furrowed. “How have that many missing men not been noticed?”
“From what I’ve gathered, most are outcasts.
Criminals,” Randall said, sliding page after page of rap sheets.
“They don’t have solid relationships with their family.
Many are sex workers. A couple of them were hardcore drug users living on the streets.
All were men polite society wouldn’t really miss. ”
“Yet someone obviously did,” Dash said.
“Other sex workers. Friends in low places. People easily dismissed and gaslit. Their reports went nowhere,” Randall said. “Until I found them.”
Emerson crossed to the table. “Can I join?”
“This might be better between Dash and I,” Randall said.
“I might know some of these men,” Emerson said. “I’m the only one here who’s part of that world.”
“You’ve told him?” Dash asked Emerson.
Emerson nodded, holding Dash’s gaze. “He knows… about me.”
Dash had so many questions for Emerson. Questions that would need to wait until after Randall was gone. He saw fatigue in Emerson’s eyes and coupled with the fight he’d walked in on, he knew the man was besieged with emotion.
Yet Randall was opening up, so there was hope. He hadn’t walked away after finding Emerson there. Dash hadn’t heard scorn in Randall’s voice when describing the missing alphas. Sex workers were often looked down on, especially by the Guard, so he’d expected it.
The guy wasn’t making it easy to figure him out.
“Emerson might have insight we don’t,” Dash said to Randall. “I think he should be included in this conversation.”
Randall glanced at Emerson for a moment before saying “Fine.” He didn’t sound too pleased Emerson was joining them, though.
Dash’s heart ached for Emerson. He slid over and made room. Emerson sat beside him and searched through the sheets, eyeing the faces looking back. Dash slid one foot over and tapped it against Emerson’s.
Emerson tapped his back before rubbing one knee against Dash’s.
“I’ve seen most of these men at the Dragon from time to time. I didn’t know any of them well.” He pointed to one and focused on Dash. “He’s an escort. I’ve seen him on the arm of your missing alpha multiple times.”
“Mind sharing the name of who’s missing?” Randall asked.
Dash looked between them. Randall had opened up his files. Dash supposed he needed to be forthcoming, but that was complicated. “I signed an NDA. I need a promise this won’t be shared with your buddies at the Guard.”
Randall frowned. “Do you think anyone there knows about my little off-book investigation? I’d likely be the next missing alpha if they found out.” He scoffed. “Your NDA’s safe with me.”
Dash searched Randall’s face before looking at Emerson.
Emerson had seemingly been right about his brother, so the slight nod he gave convinced Dash to share. “Jaye Lachlin, the younger.”
“A Lachlin?” Randall asked, eyebrows rising before he whistled.
“You never mentioned his name was Jaye Lachlin,” Emerson murmured, wide-eyed.
“What?” Dash asked, confused by their reactions. Sure, the family was rich and well-known, but that didn’t change much in his mind. Missing was missing. In that way, they were like any other family, desperate to learn where their son was.
“You said wealthy. I didn’t realize you meant owns a third of the province kind of wealthy.
A name like that will bring a lot of heat to this,” Randall said.
He paused a moment. “But maybe not. That family definitely won’t want the world to know the heir to the Lachlin fortune is alpha-attracted.
No wonder they hired a P.I. and didn’t come to us.
” He scrubbed his lightly-bearded jaw with one hand before lifting his gaze to Dash.
“None of the others missing are this high profile. I don’t know if he fits the M.O. ”
“What if he was using an alias?” Dash said. “Someone might not’ve known Jaye was a Lachlin when they grabbed him.”
“I never heard it mentioned at the club,” Emerson said. “Trust me, they love gossip at the Dragon. Had someone found out, everyone would’ve known shortly thereafter.” He eyed Dash. “I doubt he ever shared his real last name.”
“I considered that. It’s why I went into the Records Department,” Dash said.
He flipped through the rap sheets. One face after another.
Meade’s story was now corroborated, it seemed.
“I was looking for his face amid the arrest reports, but so many mugshots were missing.” He focused his attention on Randall. “Is there a reason behind that?”
“Previous raids had them,” Randall said. “I’m not sure what happened that night. I didn’t want to ask and raise suspicions that I’ve been snooping.”
“What happened that made you notice something wasn’t right?” Dash asked.
“About seven months ago, one of these alphas had a friend come in to report him missing. Another patrolman took the report—and I was seated at the next desk. I heard the entire statement. As soon as the friend left, things shifted. The other patrolman apparently recognized the missing man from a previous raid he’d worked and told everyone around us that the guy was alpha-attracted.
The other guys piled on, using slurs and making snide comments.
They basically insinuated that the missing alpha was probably dead—and if so,” Randall paused, glancing at Emerson. “If so, he’d gotten what he deserved.”
Dash drew in a breath with difficulty. It was only eased by Emerson’s hand sliding onto his knee.
“When the report was tossed in the trash, I was at a loss.” Randall sorted through the files and pulled out a handwritten sheet that seemed more tape than paper. “I fished it out and held on to it for some reason, unsure who to talk to about it. Or if I even should.”