CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
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“Have you seen Caylee?” I ask Amy, after waiting for her to return after seeing Trinity out. If one more of her relatives or that fucking boyfriend of hers has shown up again, I’ll—
“She took Trinity downstairs, as her dad had disappeared.”
I freeze.
Amy doesn’t look up from her screen, which is lucky because I’m sure my face has gone pale.
Today is pickup day, and it went without saying Mr. Rockfield would be off walking and talking. I’ve observed him doing it out the window for eighteen long months.
It was one of the reasons Trinity was perfect for...being picked up.
And fucking Caylee has gone down there?
“That was fifteen minutes ago,” Amy adds, glancing up this time as my heart blood pressure rises rapidly.
Fuck.
Think, think, think.
I stare at Amy while my brain clams up.
What the fuck do I do?
The urge to run down there and see if she is okay almost overtakes me. I glance at the door, swallow, lick my lips and then rub them together.
Fifteen minutes.
That’s... a... long...time.
“Look for her dad.” I repeat, and I can hear the lack of emotion in my voice.
“Want me to go down and see if they are okay?” Amy asks. “She might have her phone with her.”
Phone.
Yes.
No, shit, no! Amy can’t go down there.
“No, no, don’t go down.” I say quickly, then rub my forehead. “You need to watch the phones.”
Shit, think!
They must have done a drive by and will be asking for their money back. What a fuckup. It’s over ten minutes since pickup was scheduled, so I doubt they’ll sit around waiting for Trinity to be alone.
What can I do?
I can’t exactly go down and demand Caylee return to work and leave a teenager on her own. I also can’t invite Trinity back upstairs to wait for her dad.
Oscar is going to be fucking furious.
“Jesus, you should have seen the drama downstairs!” One of my dentists, Darren, enters reception. “Big car chase—looked like a movie scene.”
Fuck!
I run my hand through my hair, then pat it down.
Stay calm.
Stay fucking calm.
“Yeah?” I lift my brows and then force them down. “Cops?”
Thump, thump, thump.
I can barely hear my own thoughts over the sound of my heart slamming inside my chest. Fortunately, I’m a very healthy early-thirties male, so it’s unlikely I’ll have a heart attack, even though it feels like it right now.
“Nope. No police. That was the weird thing.” Darren says, shifting the Walmart shopping bag he’s holding into the other hand. “Likely gang related.”
Close.
“Did you see Caylee?” Amy asks, and my heart is in my throat waiting for his response.
Darren shakes his head.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
What have I done?
At rapid speed I run through the consequences of this enormous fuck-up. Who was following them, if not the cops? If they have Caylee, they’ll dispose of her.
By that I mean, kill her.
If it’s some undercover law enforcement and they catch them, then it would end up being traced back to me.
Caylee could be the missing piece if I’ve been made, and I’ll end up being fucked up in prison being fucked up the ass.
Or stabbed.
Likely both.
I also like my freedom. Quite a lot.
And my ass.
I’ve had a contingency plan set up from the beginning. I’m not some gangster, I knew this was risky. I have bank accounts, passports for the family, cash and bags packed for us all. The kids should be heading home from school, but the wife will be at work.
Calculating the risk, I decide I need to act.
Now.
Clearing my throat, I wave out my hand. “Caylee will be back. She probably went to get some chocolate. That time of the month, I figure, judging from her mood lately.”
Amy blinks and fights her frown.
“Back to work, everyone. I’ve got to prepare for the next patient.”
I don’t; I’m about to disappear forever.
Walking as calmly as I can, I push through the door, stride down the hall and close my office door behind me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hiss leaning my back on the door.
Then I go across the room and open my safe. Or try, my damn fat fingers fumble.
“Calm down,” I hiss again.
Trying once more after counting to ten, I finally hear the click. I tear open the safe door, reach in and then grab the passports, ID’s, and the big stack of cash, and shove it into a black satchel that is leaning against the wall. For this exact purpose.
You don’t play with fire and not have an extinguisher close.
Ripping off my lab coat, I grab my phone, computer and jacket, then—
My office door flies open.
“Mr. Thornton you’re under arrest for Sex Trafficking of Children, Conspiracy and Child Pornography charges,” an FBI agent says, grabbing my wrists.
Behind him are four other men, all armed and pointing weapons at me.
FUCK!
“This is bullshit!” I yell as he reads me my rights.
THAT BITCH CAYLEE!
SHE FUCKED UP EVERYTHING!
As they lead me out through the office, I don’t look at a single employee who has come out to see what is happening.
When we get to reception, I turn to Amy. “Send everyone home and lock up.”
Her face is bright red as she says, “Yes, sir.”
Fuck them.
Fuck them and their boring lives.