Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
DECLAN
E ach minute that passes is excruciating. I’ve been watching the flight tracker for what feels like days as we wait for Sawyer, Nolan, Lake, and his team to land on the private airstrip on the island. Dad and Felix sit on either side of Annabelle, anchoring her with their steady presence. Eventually I’ll apologize for being an asshole. It won’t be today, though.
Cyrus has pulled back into himself, any bit of softness buried beneath the armor of his upbringing as he prepares to go to any length for Harper. I can see it in the depths of his eyes, his inner demons already rising to the surface to play. Any other day I’d try to help him overcome them; today, I’ll dance with them in the blood of anyone who stands between us and the woman we love.
Emerson and Banks have been leaning over maps and satellite images of the marshes closest to the island. Based on how small the engine was on the dinghy, we know he couldn’t have gone very far, and we have a general direction.
It’s not much information, but it’s something at least. Dad catches my eye and looks from my eyes to the den. I stand as he does and follow him inside, letting him close the door behind us.
“I suppose it’s pointless to ask you to stay behind and let the professionals handle this?” He leans against the desk and crosses his ankles.
I say nothing because of fucking course it’s pointless. He must see the answer on face because he sighs and looks up at the ceiling.
“We’re going to get her back. I swear it to you. My PI is already working on locating likely places they could have taken her based on who we suspect has her or has hired someone to take her.”
“Who do you think it is?”
He walks around behind his desk and unlocks one of the drawers, pulling out a folder. “Russell White.” He hands the folder over to me and continues to speak while I start looking through the file. “Former investment banker at a Wall Street firm. Scott hired him to come work as the head accountant for the church five years ago.”
White has an MBA from Wharton, no family. No criminal history aside from speeding tickets. The only thing listed is a gambling debt to several casinos in Atlantic City paid off in lump sums. Wouldn’t you guess, five years ago.
“I’m not going to ask Annabelle about him. She’s too fragile right now. But I suspect that Scott hired White, paid off his debts and sold off Harper in order for him to find ways to hide all the money laundering the church was doing.”
“How did he escape prosecution, then?” I look up at Dad.
“I don’t know. Best guess is that because the human trafficking part of the equation was the biggest lynchpin in Scott’s downfall, somehow White was able to hide his involvement. Or someone tipped him off. Maybe he was even an informant.”
“Surely this guy doesn’t know his way around the marsh?”
“I’m guessing he doesn’t, but my PI photographed him handing off an envelope filled with cash to one of the former church custodians.”
I flip to the back of the file and pull out a series of photos showing the exchange. “Should we show Annabelle to see if either of them are the guy?”
Dad presses his lips into a firm line.
“I know you want to protect her and the baby, but finding Harper is as important to her as it is to me. The sooner we get her back, the better for both their sakes.”
He sighs and takes the file from me, tucking the photos back inside. “I’ll do the talking.”
I hold my hands up. “Of course. I’ll do my best to stay quiet.”
The look he gives me says what he doesn’t. He’ll believe it when he sees it. But I don’t want to upset Annabelle. She’s pregnant, and it’s clear my father cares about her. Harper loves her mom. Therefore, I don’t want to jeopardize her or the baby’s health. I mean, fuck, it could be my sibling. I don’t know how to feel about that, but it’s a problem for another day.
I follow him back out into the living room as he takes a seat beside her. He pulls the photo of Russell White out first and hands it to her.
“Is this the man who took Harper?”
“No. That’s Russ, I would have known who he was immediately.” She hands it back and looks up at Dad. “Why?”
He doesn’t answer as he pulls out another photo. “What about this man?”
She takes it and narrows her eyes trying to see the face of the man White is handing money off to. We wait as she studies the photo carefully. “It could be him, but it’s too fuzzy to be absolutely positive.”
Dad locks eyes with me. As far as I’m concerned, that is enough of an answer to move forward. I can tell by the way his jaw clenches it is for him, too. He pushes off the couch and pulls out his cell phone, walking back into his study and quietly closing the door.
“What’s going on?” Annabelle looks at me.
“We might know who has been harassing you and Harper. White could be behind it, paying off one of the church custodians to do so on his behalf.” I lean forward and point at the mystery guy again. “Think of all the names of the custodial crew at the church.”
“It isn’t Jerome. He was the head custodian. Most of the rest were women, members of the church, actually. I don’t think Scott paid most of them, he just waived their tithings.”
I can barely suppress the eye roll that her statement makes me feel like giving. He fucking would do that. Cheap fucking crook.
“His name might be Billy Weigman. William Weigman, I think.” She stands up and walks over to the window, rubbing her temples. “I never interacted with him because he was just a part time employee, but the more I think about it, the more I think it was.”
I pull my phone out to check on the location of Sawyer's flight, relieved when the app shows it is on approach. We should have met them at the airport, that way we could have been planning on the way back here. I look over at Cy to see him in a nearly meditative state. I’m not sure what I could do to pull him out, or if it’s even wise at this point.
Emerson and Banks are both talking quietly in the corner. I have no idea what they’re plotting, but I’m sure it has something to do with keeping Cy and me from committing too many felonies on our way to getting Harper back. Good fucking luck because there’s literally no crime I wouldn’t commit to have her back with us safe and sound. I know they would too, truth be told.
Dad comes back out of his office, slipping his phone in his pocket. “William Weigman. Age fifty-three, part time custodian for Flynn’s church and blue crab fisherman during the season. He has a small fishing shanty about twenty miles away in the marsh.”
“Annabelle thinks it was him who attacked them. I’m ready to jump in our boat and speed over there already. The sun is already setting, who knows what he’s done with her by now.”
“Just wait.” Dad holds up a hand. “The plane has landed, and everyone is on their way. My PI is heading over to White’s house to tail him. We need to wait until we have a plan.”
Urgency claws at my insides. Every time I hear the word wait or plan, it makes me rage inwardly. There is no plan, no waiting period that could be more important than getting to her now. I eye the cabinet where Dad keeps the boat keys, seriously considering making a break for it.
“Do you remember anything about Russell White? Anything that might indicate he’s behind all this? Or involved in any of the nefarious things Scott did behind closed doors?” Dad asks Annabelle.
“I wasn’t privy to much of what Scott did, as you know. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Russ did have something to do with it all. I mean, he knew all the church financials. I’ve always thought it was strange that he walked from everything with no charges.”
She’s right. It is very suspicious for him to walk away free from any charges or even the slightest hint of guilt. Everything has to be connected somehow. Part of me wonders if we shouldn’t bring in the police because maybe they would be able to put the pieces together. But then again, the police down here are as crooked as the people they claim to be protecting us from. Plus I don’t want this asshole to live long. I want him dead at the bottom of the swamp he crawled out of. Ideally at my hands.
“There’s two cars at the gate,” Felix says. “Should I open it?”
“Yes. It’s my nephew.”
Over the next few minutes, the house fills up with Sawyer, Nolan, and Lake, as well as a small team of three of his guys. They’re all dressed in all black utility pants and tight black long sleeve shirts with guns on their hips except Sawyer, who’s wearing a suit and looking like he just walked out of a courtroom.
Dad fills them in on what we know. Sawyer asks Annabelle a few questions while Lake and Nolan circle up with their group. The guys and I walk over and join in the circle to find out what the plan is.
“I’m not sure you should go with us,” Lake says. “If she’s in danger, you being there could make things worse.”
“We’re going.” I look him dead in the eyes, so he sees how serious I am. “I don’t care what we have to do, what crime we commit.”
“How much blood we spill,” Cy adds. “It’s not my first rodeo.”
I know he hopes it’s his last, though.
“Have any of you, aside from Cyrus, done anything like this before?” Nolan asks. “Because hurting and killing are one thing in theory, much different in reality.”
“You have to follow orders,” Lake says sternly. “No going rogue and putting yourselves in danger, so we have to step in and save you from.”
“We can do that,” Emerson says.
I remain quiet because while I plan on doing as I’m told, I’ll also do whatever the fuck it takes to get Harper back. Cy and I exchange a look, silently agreeing we’re on the same page. Emerson and Banks tense up beside us but don’t say anything.
“I trust these guys with my life,” I tell Lake. “I know we all just want to get Harper back.” And kill the people responsible for hurting her.
“Alright. Change into dark clothes you can move quietly in and get back down here in five. We’re heading out as soon as the sun goes down.”