Chapter 61
Chapter Sixty-One
Ken
Badger finally rejoined the call. “I’m gonna turn a few rocks over and get back to ye as soon as I have answers. I’ve sent people out lookin’. Might take a few days, dependin’ on what they find.”
“Just keep me posted,” Peyton said.
After ending the call, the search through the paperwork resumed despite the late hour. Ken’s nap helped refresh him even though his body clock now drastically differed from everyone else’s.
Near midnight, he started going through a box of paperwork he knew Hamish had already sorted through, but he hadn’t yet. There was a hodge-podge of items, from handwritten notes to ledgers, business papers, and bills for the estate, all in the same ten-year timeframe.
Then something hit him as he stared at one paper, an invoice for electrical work done at the house. On the back, someone had scribbled notes.
Ken stared at the paperwork, a horrible idea now blossoming inside him. “Stupid question, Jake,” he said. “And an indelicate one. I apologize in advance.”
“Yeah?”
Ken couldn’t pull his eyes from the paper in his hand. “Did you actually see your wife’s body?”
The room went silent. Ken looked at the man, hating the stunned expression he wore. “What?” Jake hoarsely asked.
“Did you positively identify her body?”
Jake blinked, confused. He started to answer, hesitated, then dropped into a chair behind him. “I mean, there was a fire. She was badly burned. Beyond recognition.”
Ken pressed. “But was it confirmed? DNA, dental work? Anything?”
Jake stared at Ken. “She was driving her car,” he hoarsely said. “It ran off the road and flipped. Her wedding ring and jewelry were on…her.”
Ken stood and walked over to him, the paper in his hand. “But did you identify her? Positively?”
Peyton joined them. “What are you saying, Ken?”
Ken handed him the paper. “This is what I’m saying.” He pointed. “This note was written on a bill from, what, 35 years ago? When did the accident happen?” Ken asked Jake.
“Shit!” Peyton gasped.
Jake looked from Ken to Peyton and back. “What is your point?”
Ken took the paper from Peyton and handed it to Jake. “Your wife’s name is Maya, correct?” With trembling hands, Jake took the paper from Ken. “Right there,” Ken said, pointing to the handwritten scribble.
Maya P, followed by two long groups of numbers.
And a dollar amount:
$2.5M
Trevor looked over Jake’s shoulder, frowning. “Those are bank account routing numbers,” he said. “I’d bet my life on it.”
Horror dawned on the other men’s faces as Ken’s implication finally struck home.
“What if this is a payment from Faegan to Ray Dorland? Jake, you said you heard rumors Ray wanted to sell her off, right?”
He slowly nodded, his gaze fixed on the sheet of paper.
“How can we find out which bank?” Ken asked Trevor.
“Give me a tick.” Trevor snapped a picture of the numbers and sent a text. Not even a minute later, his phone dinged with a text, and fury filled his face.
He held his phone up so the others could see the response.
First Royal Bank of Sydney.
As in Australia.
A collectively gasped, “Fuck!” filled the room.
Ken looked at Peyton. “How does the timing look between when Maya ‘died’ and when Faegan killed his son, Ben?”
Jake stood, roaring, and stormed out of the room.
“Follow him,” Trevor ordered two of his men. “Let him be, but intercede if he’s about to hurt himself or do something daft.”
They hurried out of the room after him.
Peyton dropped into the chair Jake vacated. “Tamsin is, what, twenty-two? And Ben died…” He looked to Trevor.
“About 40 years before Tamsin was born,” he said.
Peyton blew out a breath. “Carl was around six, I think Jake said, when Maya died. That’d be about thirty-five years ago, if I’m correct. You’re saying Faegan paid Dorland to fake Maya’s death and sell her to him as, what, a breeder?”
Ken grimly nodded. “Looks like it. Awfully convenient her body was burned beyond recognition, right?”
Trevor leaned against the desk. “Or Faegan sold her off to the lab. Or purchased her while working as an intermediary for the lab.”
“Maybe Faegan struck a deal with them for a baby or something,” Ken said. “At this point, no theory is too outlandish to be off the table. Only way to prove it for sure is an exhumation and DNA test, but I have a feeling Ray Dorland would fight that.”
“Which would be further proof you’re correct,” Trevor noted.
“I want his head,” Hamish darkly said from the other side of the room, and they all looked at him. “I mean it.” He jabbed a finger at a mounted deer head hanging there. “I want Faegan’s motherfucking head mounted right there, next to that deer. And Ray Dorland’s, too, if he’s guilty.”
“Interesting conversation pieces,” Peyton darkly snarked.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Ken said, looking at them.
“I can’t,” Peyton wearily said. “Because I don’t think you are.
It would also explain why Ray wanted Jake and Carl dead, so there was no chance of them learning the truth.
And Carl couldn’t grow up to one day challenge him for Pack Alpha.
Other people had to help Ray pull this off.
Someone, somewhere, knows the truth besides Ray. ”
Ken flinched when Jake roared outside, a dreadful, anguished howl that set Ken’s hair on end.
The men looked at each other. “Trevor,” Peyton said, “do you have anyone you can call in that part of the world—someone reliable—to ask them about Ray Dorland?”
He grimly nodded. “Back in a tick.” He left the room.
“Now what?” Ken asked Peyton.
He slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. This changes everything.”
“Not really,” Ken said. “It’s more evidence, circumstantial, yes, but very strong, that Faegan and Ray are in cahoots with the people responsible for the lab.”
“Let’s hear what Trevor finds out. Meanwhile, see if there’s anything else in that timeframe we can tie to all of this.”
“What about Jake?” Ken asked.
Peyton looked at the window, where Jake howled again. “I’ll go talk to him. You and Hamish keep looking.”
They were still searching twenty minutes later when Trevor returned, followed by Peyton and Jake, who’d obviously been crying. They were trailed by Trevor’s two men, who now looked very wary. Peyton helped Jake sit in one of the chairs.
“What did you find out?” Peyton asked Trevor.
“I talked with the cousin of one of my people in New Zealand,” he told them. “He said his sources tell him Ray Dorland is in deep with organized crime.”
“Bratva?” Peyton asked.
Trevor nodded. “Old ties there, as well as new ones with the latest generation of new-money tech oligarchs.”
“Shit. In what ways?”
“Real estate, drugs, smuggling, trafficking. You name it, and apparently, Ray Dorland has his paws in it.”
“That’s more proof Dorland’s involved, though,” Ken said.
“Right? Russians abducted you both? He’s working with Russians?
That’s gotta be more than a coincidence.
I mean, abducting anyone during the search for Faegan obviously derails that.
Dorland could be feeding the Russians info to help Faegan. ”
“We don’t know for certain if the Russians were the abductors or if that’s a convenient location for their lab,” Peyton said. “Yes, it’s strong circumstantial evidence, but I don’t want to make a rash decision and later learn we didn’t decapitate the snake.”
“We need out-of-the-box thinking,” Trevor said.
Ken, who sat cross-legged on the floor, leaned back and closed his eyes. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure anyone will like it.”
“Spill it,” Peyton said.
He didn’t open his eyes, trying to picture each part as a gear to fit into place in the larger plan.
“We’re assuming Ray and Faegan are working together.
We’re assuming Faegan has a direct connection with the lab operation.
We’re assuming at least two disappearances—including Jake—are tied directly to Ray.
And we now know Ray is involved with Russians.
You were abducted after a fake tip was called in about Faegan.
Meaning likely Ray orchestrated that. We also have someone in the Segura cartel’s orbit who won’t stop poking around the circumstances surrounding Manuel’s disappearance. ”
“And?” Peyton asked.
Ken opened his eyes. “I say we bait Miranda Segura to meet with a Russian. See what she has to pitch. If it’s info about us, then we know and can deal accordingly. If she’s trying to offload the cartel, we can use that as an inroad to Ray Dorland.”
Trevor scrubbed his face. “I’m sorry, Ken, but I’m not following. How do we get one of the Russians to work with us?”
“We don’t,” Peyton said, pointing at Jake. “We bring our own.”
“Exactly,” Ken said.
Jake finally processed what they were saying and nodded. “You tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Whatever you need so we can get these goddamned fuckers.”
Finally, Peyton ordered everyone to call it quits for the night. Those who arrived in the helo departed in it for Trevor’s home.
Jake had spoken very little since the discovery of the note and the revelation about the bank account in Australia.
When they reached Trevor’s, Jake didn’t speak to anyone. He snagged a bottle of scotch off the wet bar on his way upstairs to his room, where he closed the door.
Ken turned to Peyton, who looked grim. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him. What if I’m wrong?”
Peyton laid a hand on his shoulder. “Ken, what if you’re right? Unfortunately, I have a strong suspicion that maybe you are. Maybe you don’t understand, but that was a huge break.”
“How?”
“Because it gives us a concrete tie between Faegan and Ray Dorland,” Trevor wearily said.
He headed for the wet bar and poured himself a glass of sherry.
“My people are running down the details now, but I suspect we’ll find a transfer was made from a business holding of Faegan’s to a business holding of Dorland’s. ”
Trevor’s mobile rang and he groaned before looking at the screen and answering it.
“Trevor Clarke.” He rubbed his forehead with his free hand as he listened to the caller.
“Right,” he said after a moment. “Forward me all of that, please. Thanks.” He hung up and set his phone on the bar, picked up his glass, and downed the contents in one gulp while reaching for the sherry bottle.
“Confirmation of the transaction?” Hamish asked.
Trevor shook his head. “No. My people tracked down the most likely suspect for Frannie.” He looked at Hamish.
“Rather, her family. They all ‘died’ at the same time in a bombing blamed on Irish separatists at the time. Coincidentally, it corresponds with the time period Hyacinth’s, I mean Frannie’s, memories begin.
Frannie was listed as one of the deceased, but the damage was so great, they buried the family in a mass grave because…
Well, because.” He refilled his glass. “There were no survivors in the house.” He tossed back that glassful, too.
“Fuuuuck me,” Ken said.
“What are the chances that some of the violence the British government blamed on the IRA and others in the past was actually Faegan’s bullshit?” Peyton asked.
Trevor looked grim. “I’m starting to suspect quite a bit.”