Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
They went back to the van after the gunfire training. Reed put back on his clothes and rested on the bed while Siren studied Diana’s files in the front seat. His entire body was one giant, sore muscle, but it was worth it. He finally had control.
One of Siren’s phones rang, and she answered it.
“What do you have?”
Reed leaned up on his elbow and watched her profile. Her expression sharpened.
“A friend of Carl’s reached out to you?”
She paused, listening.
“Where is he?” Reed watched her, his stomach tightening. “How do we know it’s not a trap?”
“Send me the details.” She waited. “Understood.”
Siren ended the call and looked back at him.
“What was that about?” Reed asked.
“A friend of Carl Unger reached out to Dom. He has evidence that Carl sent him before he died.”
“Carl said he had insurance in the recording. The handler thought he’d scrubbed it.”
“Apparently, he didn’t. The friend wants it off his hands. He’s in a small town outside Columbus. But we need to be careful. It’s possible Vanguard already knows about him.”
The next morning, they pulled into a town that looked like it was dying. Reed drove past the empty storefronts on Main Street. A diner that had seen better decades. A hardware store clinging to existence. A church with a sign out front for services nobody attended.
“Turn here,” Siren said, pointing to a residential street.
He made the turn, passing small houses with small yards. Fifteen-year-old cars were parked in the driveways. The address Dom had given them was halfway down the block. It was a one-story house with vinyl siding and a chain link fence. Reed parked the van across the street.
Siren scanned the street as they crossed, looking for surveillance. They walked up the cracked concrete path to the front door, and Siren knocked. A moment later, the door opened on a chain.
The face between the gap was a man in his late thirties with a five o’clock shadow and pale skin.
“Greg Sullivan?” Siren asked. “Dom sent us. About Carl.”
Greg’s eyes darted past them, scanning the street.
“Come inside.”
He closed the door, freed the chain, and then opened it again. They slipped through. He shut the door behind them and locked the deadbolt.
The house was dim. All the curtains were drawn. Greg was a few inches shorter than Reed. He had a beer belly under his ratty sweatpants and wore a faded Cincinnati Bengals T-shirt.
“Where is it?” Siren asked.
“One second,” Greg said.
He disappeared into the back of the house. Reed heard drawers open and close. The creak of floorboards. He returned a moment later with a manila envelope with something bulky inside. Greg held it like it was radioactive.
“Take it. Please. I don’t want it in my house anymore.”
Siren accepted the envelope. “How did you get this?”
“Carl sent it to me two months ago. He called me and asked me to keep it safe. He said if anything happened to him, I should find someone who could use it.”
Greg’s voice cracked. “Three weeks later, he was dead.”
“Has anyone come around asking about him? Watching the house?”
“I don’t know…”
“You did the right thing, contacting Dominic.”
“Can you do something with it?”
“Yes. We’re going to end this.”
They didn’t open the envelope at Greg’s house. They returned to the van and left town as quickly as possible. They drove for two hours before they stopped in an empty county park. Siren said she was sure they hadn’t been followed.
She opened the envelope. Photos spilled across the dinette table. There was also a USB drive and a handwritten note. Siren read the note while Reed started looking at the photos.
The first image showed Draven handing an envelope to another man in an expensive gray suit. His face was turned slightly toward the camera. He squinted at the image, trying to remember why the second man looked so familiar.
“That’s Kevin Peters!” he said with astonishment.
Siren looked up. “Who?”
“Kevin Peters.” He pointed at the photo. “He rents a cabin at the lodge a few times a year. I met him at the brewery.” Reed searched his memory. “In fact, he was at the brewery the night Carl was murdered.”
Siren’s eyes widened, and she snapped an image of the photo with her phone. “I’m sending this to Dom.”
Reed looked at the second photo in the stack. It was Ashcroft shaking hands with Draven like the two men were closing a deal. Then Reed looked at the next photo. All three men were together, standing on the front porch of Fate Mountain Lodge.
“They were all on Fate Mountain,” he said, showing the photo to Siren.
“Carl documented everything. Look at this letter.”
Reed read the note.
Greg. I fucked up. I got in too deep with the wrong people. They paid me good money, and I didn’t ask questions. It was a mistake.
They called me an asset while I fed them information for six years. I gave them names, locations, schedules. They wanted to know about shifter businesses.
I’m not a shifter, so I didn’t care. I told myself it was just corporate espionage. Industrial sabotage at worst. I didn’t know what they were actually doing with the intel I fed them.
Then I started to see the pattern. People were getting hurt. There was a huge wildfire right near my house, and I knew they had something to do with it.
I got scared and started gathering evidence against them. I knew I couldn’t just get out safely. I needed leverage. So, I documented enough to bring them down if they ever came for me.
The photos are meetings between the higher ups I observed. The USB has more. The older guy in the expensive suit is Ashcroft. He’s a billionaire. His money funds the whole operation.
The military looking guy is Thomas Draven. He runs a military company called Vanguard. They’re the ones who carry out the crimes.
The younger guy in the suit is my handler. He goes by Kevin Peters around town. But I have no idea what his real name is.
The photo of all three of them in Fate Mountain is from October of last year. They’re planning something big.
I’m sorry to bring you into this. But I don’t know who else to trust. I was stupid. I thought I could get out. Find someone who can do something with this information. The FBI maybe? Or someone in the shifter community. Someone with the balls to take on a billionaire.
I’m sorry for what I helped them do. I hope somehow this evidence can help make it right.
Carl
“Wow,” he said, looking up at Siren.
“Let’s take a look at what’s on this USB,” she said, plugging into Reed’s laptop.
She scrolled through more photos of meetings between Ashcroft, Draven, and Peters. There were also bank statements showing payments into Carl’s account from Teton Resource Group for $3500 each month for the past six years.
“Got them,” Siren said. “I need to send everything to Dom. This is big.”
“What’s on the audio recordings?” Reed asked.
Siren made a few clicks and started the first audio file.
“I didn’t know you were going to kill the dispatcher,” Carl said.
“You’re paid not to ask questions,” Kevin Peters said. It was the same voice from the recording.
“She was burned alive. In her own home.”
“Loose ends get handled. Remember that.”
Reed felt sick. Siren clicked through more files. More recordings. More evidence of the conspiracy and sabotage that had been wreaking havoc on his hometown.
There were references to operations Reed remembered. Forest fires. Equipment failures. The campaign of terror that had plagued Fate Mountain for years.
“We have everything we need for an airtight case. There is no deniability.” She pulled out one of her phones. “I’m calling Dom. We need next steps.”
Reed listened to her side of the conversation as she walked Dom through what they’d found. When she finished her explanation, there was a long pause.
“Local law enforcement is out,” she said.
“Ashcroft has too much money. Too many connections. There’s no telling how many locals are compromised.
” Siren was quiet for a moment. “I have a contact in the FBI. Her name is Kate Brennan. We served in military intelligence together. She’s now an agent in the New York City field office.
She could actually do something with this. ”
Siren listened for a moment before continuing. “I’ll send you copies of everything. If something happens to us, the evidence survives.”
She ended the call and looked at Reed. “We’re going to New York.”