46. Forty-Six
Forty-Six
Jack
At the end of the day, plans fall apart. Mine certainly had. The day Brennon and Cole caught me on the phone with Daniel, everything I’d worked for crumbled in an instant.
My original plan: mutually assured destruction. Get enough proof about Nick and Toni, and Daniel and Holly, and hold it over everyone’s head forever. Or until I could get the fuck out of the country. But that was naive. I knew now that there was no version of that plan that would have worked.
So even though I bought myself some time giving Daniel’s name away like bait on a very tempting fishhook, it took me a long ass time to see another way out of my situation.
Franklin Barrett had spent a long time collecting as much dirt, collateral, and leverage as he could get his hands on.
It’s how I got caught up in his web, and I definitely wasn’t the only one.
Divorce proceedings, specifically with children involved, usually rule in a mother’s favour or at least lean toward shared custody, but not Franklin’s.
I could never be sure, but I suspected the judge was just another rat caught in a Franklin Barrett trap.
Like Blue was. Forced to use his charity to scrub dirty money.
Like McKnight was. His children or his life, and like the selfish prick he was, he chose his own life.
Barrett Hills, hell, most of the East Coast and some of the West, if the Rothberg’s were any indication, were caught up in his web.
I didn’t have Rothberg’s network or Blue’s notoriety, which meant only one thing for me.
Franklin Barrett needed to die. That was the only solution.
But killing Franklin Barrett would take time.
Even when he’d called me a few days ago and told me what he needed, I still hadn’t worked out how to get there, which meant I wasn’t exactly able to say no when he made his demand.
Nor did I falter when Mikhael turned up at my office, ordering me into the backseat of his town car, only to drive me less than ten minutes up the road from Agonde’s gates.
Of course, I recognized the fence before me when the car came to a halt.
I’d driven past it enough times. Big warning signs, labelled Hydro electric dam, and In operation, and Authorized personnel only.
There were similar facilities all over the place this far north because there were more lakes and rivers than people.
Mikhael got out briefly to unlock the gates, before continuing to drive the car up the forest road. The chassis of the town car was clearly not designed for this type of rough terrain, so the backseat shook violently until we finally stopped again in front of what looked like a concrete bunker.
The car door was thrown open and Mikhael gave a one-word command, “Out,” as he pointed toward the door.
There were more Caution and Warning signs on it, but Franklin’s goon was the bigger danger, so I pushed through the door, expecting to find Franklin waiting on the other side.
Not his son and a very unconscious Xavier Rothberg, lying chained in the corner of what appeared to be the former operating office for the dam.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
Francis flashed me his terrifying smirk and said, “Don’t worry, he’s not dead.”
I exhaled, grateful I wouldn’t have to make that phone call, too. I’d already had to call Mitchell’s parents and tell them about his horrible, fatal “accident”.
After explaining his father’s plan to me, he’d sent me back out to Mikhael like he was my fucking boss, not the other way around. Although, I guess technically neither of us was in charge. This was Franklin’s production after all, his son and I were just a couple of players.
Before getting back into the car, Mikhael, ever the faithful servant, dropped vials of a clear, viscous liquid into my hands.
I asked what it was, and his only response was “Fentanyl or something,” followed by the same vague grunting I’d come to associate with the man during my long subjugation.
Amidst those grunts had been instructions on how to disperse the liquid through a ventilation system.
Regret’s not quite the right word. I didn’t relish exposing either Toni, or Brennon to that when the opportunity finally struck.
But, as I’ve said before, saying no to Franklin Barrett is a death sentence.
After Mikhael collected the kids from the fridge and tied them to the benches, I’d stood outside on the deck and watched the whole damn soap opera play out.
Xavier and Brennon’s hapless escape. Toni’s despair. Cole’s death. Maybe age had made me a sucker, but they still looked like those same ten-year-old kids in my eyes, only now, the stakes for all of us were so much higher. Too high, in Cole’s case.
After they were gone, Franklin and all his men, it was down to me to clean up the evidence.
To wash Cole Michaels’ blood from the floor with bleach and a mop, like I didn’t remember the brave little boy who’d barged back into my office in an attempt to save his friends from punishment.
Like he was just gone, and didn’t deserve to be remembered.
Not that I could do fuck all about it now.
So, I mopped, and mopped again, until the water ran clear and the floor shone.
The next morning, strung out from zero sleep, I’d done little more than stand on the deck outside of the office and wave to parents as they collected their kids one by one.
That night, my tired old speeches, the ones that usually got at least some emotional response from staff, were met with a distrusting silence.
Junior staff, cabin leaders, program heads, all looked at me like I was the one to blame for the absence of not one, but two of their ranks.
No one even mentioned Cole, though Xavier might as well have had his name tattooed across his statue-like face.
The whole situation only made worse by ugly accusations about my role in Toni’s disappearance that were tossed out by Brennon and Abigail, both of whom were seething with undeniable rage.
I couldn’t claim they weren’t true either, so I retreated to my office as quickly as I could.
Unlike in years past, I wouldn’t watch them go. I didn’t need their judgement.
Even at midday, the light never did quite reach the back left corner of my office.
By midnight on an August night, where the darkness rolled in as early as 8 p.m. this far north, it was nothing but shadows.
But in those shadows was a presence. One I might not like, but one I expected and needed since my original plan had gone to shit on Parent’s Day.
The only one capable of getting me my freedom.
I turned, and said to the shadow, “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
I extended my hand, felt the floors creak under his heavy steps and waited.