Chapter 40 #3
When I’m sure the house is empty, I head to my father’s office.
It looks the same as it always does—an extra-large desk that takes up a good portion of the opposite side of the room, several monitors spread out across its surface.
A bar is to my right, filled with top shelf liquor and a few cigar cases.
A leather couch, a coffee table and a few other armchairs are beside the bar where he entertains his snooty friends.
On the opposite side, there are double doors leading to his en suite bathroom and beside that is the closet.
My hand shakes as I reach for the knob, afraid of what I might find.
Opening it, I find…clothes. A fuck ton of clothes he could keep in his room, but only clothes. Some shoes and ties here or there, but suit after suit, dress shirts, and cashmere sweaters.
I check around, looking for whatever my mother saw. There’s no door. All I see is—
I push aside one more set of sweaters and there it is. A fucking door in the damn closet.
“What the fuck?” I breathe, wondering why it’s here. I’ve never thought about what was in his closet, as I didn’t really give a shit about my dad as long as he left me alone.
My mom was right. But what is behind the door?
Even though I know nothing will happen, I try the handle. As I suspect, it’s locked.
Now that I have my own money, I can contact a locksmith to open the door.
Though I’m sure the guard for this gated community will tell my dad that I had someone on the list to be let in and he’ll have questions if they tell him it’s a locksmith.
So how will I get inside to see what my mother was looking for?
A smile crosses my face when I remember Thorne taught me how to pick locks. I look at the deadbolt on the office door. It looks sort of like Warren’s, so I should be able to open it.
It’ll be difficult with my shoulder, but I can push through the pain for a few minutes to figure out this mystery.
I hurry to my room, hoping I packed the right bag.
“A-ha!” I exclaim in an almost cartoonish way when I hold up the lock picking kit I stashed in there after Thorne gave it to me.
I rush back to my dad’s office, get on my knees, and start working the lock. My shoulder is throbbing in pain as I angle my hands in a way it doesn’t want me to, but I’ve come this far. I need to see if my mother had a point in her ramblings.
The lock is hard to pick, like it doesn’t want to give up its secrets. Still, I work at it, sliding the small tools into the slits.
About ten minutes later, the pin finally drops. I release a pain-filled groan, wiping the sweat from my brow. I’ll have to take some Motrin to deal with this breakthrough pain, as I won’t be able to take the stronger stuff for another few hours.
That can wait. Right now, I need to see what’s behind this door.
My heart races as I pull the knob. Lights go up as the door is opened wider, illuminating the inside.
It’s a smaller extension of the closet, about as large as a typical janitors closet. There are boxes stacked with paperwork, cork boards on every wall and a large safe in the corner. There’s no way I can crack a safe, so I walk around, glancing at what’s tacked on the cork board.
What I read makes my blood run cold and bile swirl in my belly.
There are pictures of naked women, most of them unconscious. Beside the photos are messages like sent to Dubai, and purchased for Texas, and inbound from Nicaragua.
Is he…is my dad selling women?
Oh god. Oh my god. He’s a monster. He’s…he’s a monster.
My eyes flick around as I take in more of what’s tacked up. I lean in and see an email from Felicity’s father, Dennis Burke.
Charles,
We’ll be making the large sale tonight. Should bring us around 8 mil. Then we’ll lay low. Talk soon
Dennis
I dart out of the office, running as fast as I can to my room. When I get to the bathroom, I just make it to the toilet before I’m vomiting. I throw up everything in my belly, tears racing down my cheeks as I purge myself.
My father is a human trafficker. He’s kidnapping people—or paying others to kidnap them—and selling them. He’s a fucking monster.
What the fuck do I do? Who do I tell? The cops? Dad has enough money to pay them off. Even the most moral man wouldn’t turn down a few million for their silence.
He needs to be stopped. I have to stop him.
My hands tremble as I reach into my pocket. It’s still the school day, but I don’t give a fuck about that.
Pressing the call button, I put the phone to my ear, hoping and praying he answers.
“Hey Golden,” Thorne says, his voice sounds warm, happy. God, I wish my world didn’t get turned upside down and I could sink into that warmth with him.
But my father is an evil son of a bitch. He’s the man that Thorne is looking for, I know it. He needs to be stopped. The only person that can do that is my avenging angel.
“Thorne,” I whisper, my voice sounding raw from pain and vomiting.
“What is it, Chance?” He sounds alert, like he’d climb through the phone and comfort me if he could.
I wish he were here. He could stop my father right now. He could make the world a better place by ending him.
A broken sound leaves my throat as I say, “It’s him. It’s my dad.”
“What’s your dad, Golden?”
“He’s…I think he’s the leader you’re looking for. Please. You have to stop him.”