Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Archer stood outside Tatum's door, his hand raised to knock. Dr. Reeves had called twenty minutes ago. No concussion, but she needed rest. Ice. No stress.
He'd almost smiled at that last one. Tatum Wellington didn't know the meaning of no stress. He knocked. Softer than usual.
"Come in," she called.
He opened the door and stepped inside. She was lying on the couch, an ice pack on her head, looking small and tired in a way that did something to his chest he wasn't going to examine right now.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Like I got hit in the head."
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. "The doctor said you'd be fine."
"The doctor said a lot of things. Most of his comments involved rest and no excitement."
"Then I'll try to keep this brief." He sat down on the couch, keeping a careful distance between them.
Close enough to reach her if she needed him.
Far enough that he wouldn't give in to the urge to close that distance entirely.
"I need you to walk me through what happened. Everything you remember."
She closed her eyes, and he watched her face as she worked through it. "I went to get sushi. Kim's place is just two blocks from my apartment. I was walking back and decided to stop at the corner store for milk and toilet paper."
"Which store?"
She gave him the corner.
He made a mental note. Ryker would pull the security footage. "What time?"
"Around one thirty, maybe. I'd been working at my apartment all morning."
He didn't mention that she'd gone to the office first. She didn't know he'd had Flynn following her, not that it had helped. That was on him. He'd tried to be discreet so she wouldn't get upset, and it had damn near cost her everything. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
"The Ponzi scheme case," she continued. "I went through the paperwork again with fresh eyes, looking for anything that might point to a fourth or fifth person involved."
His pulse kicked. She was close. Too close. "Did you find anything?"
"Yes. And I'm convinced there's more. At least one other person is pulling the strings." She met his gaze. "I did find a name."
"Who?" Archer braced himself and said a small private prayer that it would be Davis.
"Louis Anderson."
Archer blinked. Not the name he'd been hoping for, but not one that surprised him either. "I see."
"You're not surprised," Tatum said as she lifted her head, holding the ice pack in place. She shrugged. "Neither was I. He's smart, has the skills to handle the banking side of it, but he's also a complete scumbag."
"Agreed." Archer knew Anderson had other predilections as well, but didn't share that with Tatum.
"We'll come back to Anderson. Go on. What happened at the store?"
"I grabbed the milk and some chips. Was heading to the register when I remembered the toilet paper.
I turned around to go back to the corner of the store, and someone hit me from behind.
" She touched the back of her head gingerly, and Archer's hands tightened on his knees.
"Hard. I dropped everything. My vision went blurry. "
"Did you see who it was?"
"Not at first. They grabbed me, started dragging me toward the back of the store. The emergency exit." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "There was a van in the alley. White. Engine running. Back doors open."
Archer's jaw tightened. A van meant planning. It meant they'd intended to take her somewhere. Interrogate her. Or worse. The thought landed in his chest like ice.
"How many?" he said, keeping his voice even.
"Two that I saw. The one who grabbed me, and the driver. The one who grabbed me had a ski mask. So did the driver."
"What happened then?"
"I fought back. Headbutted the guy holding me. Broke his nose, I think. Got free. He tried to grab me again, so I kneed him in the groin." Grim satisfaction flickered across her face.
Good. Archer felt a surge of something fiercer than satisfaction. She'd hurt them. Made them pay.
"And the driver?"
"Came after me. He was bigger. Faster. I ran." Her voice shifted slightly, and he heard the edge of fear underneath the composure. "I made it to the street, lost him in a crowd of teenagers. Then I got a rideshare back here."
Archer was quiet for a moment, his mind working through the details. The timeline. The planning it would have taken.
"Did they say anything?" he asked. "Anything at all?"
She thought for a moment. "The first guy called me a bitch when I kicked him. The second guy didn't say anything."
"And you didn't recognize either of them?"
"No."
Archer leaned back. "They were waiting for you. They knew where you'd be."
"Or they were following me."
"Maybe. But my guess is they've been watching you for a while.
Learning your patterns. Kim's restaurant, the corner store, those are places you go regularly.
" He watched her process that, saw the moment it hit her.
The violation of it. Someone studying her movements, cataloging her habits, waiting for the right moment.
"They wanted to take me somewhere," she said quietly. "That's what the van was for. They weren't trying to kill me. They wanted me alive."
"For leverage," Archer said. The word tasted bitter. "Or information."
She met his eyes. "About the Ponzi scheme."
He nodded slowly.
Silence settled between them.
Archer weighed his options. He could tell her about The Curator.
Should tell her, maybe. She deserved to know what she was up against. But the image of her being dragged toward that van was still too fresh in his mind.
If he told her about the Curator, she'd go looking.
She wouldn't be able to help herself. It was simply who she was: relentless and driven and inherently incapable of backing down.
And that would get her killed.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked, reading him too easily.
Archer exhaled. He could give her part of it. "I've been looking into Davis. Into his connections."
"And?"
"I think he's involved in human trafficking."
The words sat between them, heavy with what they implied.
Tatum went very still. "You think, or you know?"
"I have evidence suggesting it. Money moving through shell corporations linked back to him. Payments to people known for moving girls across borders." He paused. "Do you know anything about this?"
Something flickered in her eyes. Recognition. "I have a client who might have knowledge of that."
"Who?"
"I can't tell you that. Attorney-client privilege."
Frustration flared. "Tatum—"
"I can't," she repeated, her voice firm.
"But I can confirm that what you're saying tracks with what I know.
Davis is dirty. Very dirty. And if he's involved in the Ponzi scheme too—" She stopped, a frown crossing her face as if something clicked into place.
"You think he's using it to fund the trafficking operation. "
Archer hesitated, then nodded.
They looked at each other, and he could see her mind working. Putting pieces together. Getting close to the truth. Closer than was safe.
"There's more," he said, making the decision. "There's someone behind all of this. Someone who goes by the name the Curator."
Tatum's pulse jumped. He could see it in her throat. "The Curator? Who is that?"
"I don't know. But they're connected to the Ponzi scheme. To the trafficking. To all of it."
"Could the Curator be Davis or Anderson?" she asked.
Archer shrugged. "Davis, no. He's involved, and I'd guess he knows who the Curator is, but he doesn't have the knowledge base required for the financial and legal maneuvering. My read is that he's the one who brings in clients."
"So Anderson then?" Tatum frowned. "He's smart enough, but you know what, whoever set this up made mistakes. Small ones, but they're there. I can see that being Anderson, but honestly, I think he'd do a cleaner job than this. So maybe Anderson is more of a frontman and someone else is the Curator?"
"Could be. I'm not sure I buy Anderson as the Curator. He likes the spotlight too much. Too visible. I think he's more likely playing a similar role to Davis, someone who brings in clients and greases the wheels. But I'll look into him further."
"Good. I'll help you. I can—"
"You will do no such thing."
"You can't stop me, Archer."
"Yes, I can." His voice was flat and final. "Because whoever the Curator is, they're dangerous enough to have killed two people and tried to kidnap you in broad daylight. And I'm not giving them any more reasons to put you in their crosshairs."
"That's not your decision to make."
"The hell it isn't." He stood, needing to move.
He crossed to the window. "You almost got taken today, Tatum.
Do you understand that? If you hadn't fought back, if you hadn't been fast enough and strong enough, you'd be gone.
And even with tracking on your phone, I can guarantee I'd have no idea where to find you. The people behind this wouldn’t let you keep anything you could be tracked with. "
His voice cracked slightly on the last word. He hated that. But it was the truth, and he was apparently past pretending otherwise. The thought of losing her, of not knowing for sure where she was or what was being done to her, was more than he could set quietly aside.
"Archer," she said quietly.
He turned to look at her.
"I'm okay. I'm here. I'm safe."
"This time."
"This time," she agreed. "But I'm not going to stop. I can't. Those people deserve justice. They deserve to get their money back. And I'm not going to let fear stop me from helping them."
"I'm not asking you to stop." He moved back toward the couch, drawn to her in a way he'd long since given up pretending wasn't happening.
"I'm asking you to be smart about it. I’m asking you to trust me.
I have resources you don't. Share your information with me, and I can dig deeper.
" He ran a hand through his hair. "I can find out everything you have on my own, but it will take time, and I don't think we have that luxury. "