Chapter 10
Indie
Breath - Breaking Benjamin
Present day
The snow has finally washed away, much to Regina’s dismay.
Another couple of weeks, and it won’t be long before it’s back, the winters in Kingstone usually consumed in white by the end of November.
I decided to forgo my morning run, try something a little less taxing on the body. The bathtub drains of water, and I watch as the last of the bubbles swirl down the drain.
I feel exhausted.
Both mentally and physically.
The last few days have taken their toll on me.
I’m tired from running my body hard, running from the pain, and from the realisation that I’ve finally severed the cord.
When I exit the bathroom, I jump out of my skin as Regina sits on my bed.
“Fucking creeping Jesus,” I murmur, watching her completely engrossed in whatever’s on her laptop screen.
She glances at me over the lid. “You might want to sit down.”
A chill breezes over my neck, and I walk over to the bed to see what’s got her sitting with her back ramrod straight.
“What is this?” I ask, my eyes scanning over the screen.
One of our codes has triggered, but the name on Regina’s search doesn’t belong to anyone we’ve contacted historically, and we haven’t handed out a card; we need to lie low for a while after a kill.
Regina pulls up the location, and it shows just over an hour and a half away, a small town named Pinecrest.
“Take a look at this.”
She hands me over the laptop, and I rest it against my thighs.
The extraction document shows zero results for our premade filter, and then I open the second page to the complete browser history.
I suck in a shaky breath. “Fucking hell.”
The search results over the last few weeks have been centred around a missing child. There are hundreds of links being searched, from the predator registers for individuals to any missing child cases spanning over a fifty-mile radius.
“Does this…does this belong to anyone on our list?” I ask, handing her back the laptop. If one of those Sumus members has harmed a child, I think we’ll skip contacting the victims and asking what they want.
They straight up deserve to die.
She chews her lip nervously, nodding her head as she stares at the screen. “It does.”
We’ve never dealt with anything to do with a kid before. All our records show women reporting the men belonging to Sumus.
This is a whole new level of territory we’re entering.
Regina pulls up our list of names; this guy’s name is in the year above ours.
John Edwards.
“This one could be dangerous, more than the others,” she says, and I turn to look at her.
“It’s always dangerous. This won’t be any different, Gina. We need to find out more first before we come to any conclusions, and also how they got the card.”
Regina looks back at the screen, pulling up her communication app and inserting it into the phone that scanned the QR code.
I rise from the bed whilst she gets to work, shoving on sweatpants and a T-shirt, then drying my hair. I’m halfway through when I feel her gaze on me in the mirror.
“What?” I ask, turning off the hairdryer.
“They’ve responded.”
Already?
I walk over to look at the screen, and sure enough they have.
Waves form in my stomach. From experience, the truly desperate only respond this quickly.
“Ask her how she got the card.”
The knots in my stomach pull tighter, the pit now in full churn mode.
People who are desperate like this always work their way into my heart, managing to pierce the armour I’ve hastily placed around it.
It’s a huge ordeal to reach out for help; anyone who’s never been in these situations thinks it’s easy.
If you’re unlucky enough to have been targeted by them, traditional methods just aren’t enough. You could have all the evidence, public resources, and the best attorney on your side. If it doesn’t get past the police here, nothing gets done.
You’ll soon find that people in a position of trust will back away from you once the name you report was part of the Sumus.
The members never kill the victims like you’d expect them to.
No, they seem to get a kick out of ruining your life, blacklisting you from every opportunity possible.
Then make sure you live out the rest of your days regretting you even tried to tell someone about them.
They end up going on believing they’ve no chance against the elite.
The way these men handle their threats, Regina and I understand just the lengths they’ll go to to force your silence.
We reached a point where we didn’t care, and likely were the only two who managed to get a glimpse into just what they do. We’ve never been caught by them or the police over our five years.
The risks are worth it. Being able to provide a helping hand to someone so they can live in peace—that’s our one and only goal.
For them, and for the two of us.
“Sent a message across. Will wait and see what comes back.”
We head downstairs, Regina placing her laptop on the table to keep an eye on any updates.
By the time we make dinner and clean up, the laptop pings with an incoming message. She brings it over to the sofa, both of us huddled together to review the information.
A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes widen on the screen with each word I read.
Victoria—the contact—is a friend of Elenna.
Both met through their husbands.
My brows scrunch together. We never found any evidence that the Sumus members still kept in touch with each other.
This is a first.
Elenna knew Victoria needed help and told her she could trust us. But reading through, it doesn’t appear like these women knew what their spouses were a part of.
Victoria has a young son named Callum, and he went missing some months ago. She’s been to the police, but John’s managed to plant a fake claim against her before regarding drug use. They believe the father has taken him away for a better life.
Regina fires up her system to slip into the police reports. This is something she needs to do swiftly; the longer you’re in, the more chance you have of being caught.
That’s why we get all the information we need beforehand.
We don’t double dip; it’s a one-shot attempt.
She screenshots a copy of the reports before slipping out, and it’s no surprise that although they’ve been filed, all of them became a closed case.
John’s report about her means she’s been viewed as an unfit mother by the cops.
She’s even provided clear drug tests to us, but the police have noted they’re fake.
Whilst that could be up for debate, the way these men and their payroll down at the stations work, I know who’s really telling the truth.
I briefly close my eyes, reading her words, causing me to harness her pain radiating through the screen.
We’re no strangers to that helplessness.
It leaves you feeling empty, like you have no power to speak your truth, that no one believes you.
When I eventually open them, I see her last message provides an address, and she believes John is hiding out there with her child.
She’s scared to go alone and worried because he’s an abusive father.
No one in the town will help her because of the lies that were spread, John apparently doing his due diligence in case she found him.
“Piece of shit,” I growl, and Regina zooms into the cabin from a map search.
Pinecrest only has a small population, and like most of the small towns of this state, it’s engulfed by woodland. Hardly any homes are in the area we’ve been sent, but it’s spread out across thousands of acres.
There’s a motel along one of the only roads with a gas station, and a small collection of stores and a diner are nestled in the centre.
It doesn’t seem like the usual upper-class area these guys hang around in, but it’s perfect for them if they’re looking to hide.
“What’re the chances that the cabin has CCTV?” I ask Regina, and she works her incomprehensible cyber magic, but her eyes crinkle at the sides.
“I’ll need to get close, seeing as Victoria hasn’t connected to the Wi-Fi previously, and it could be hardwired.”
Well, looks like we’re going on a little day trip.
Almost three hours later, we pull over at the side of the road near the cabin.
The road is dense with the treeline on either side, and the long, winding driveway up the hill is swallowed by the thick branches from the low-hanging trees, only allowing a sliver of sunlight through.
“Hold this,” Regina groans, handing me some square device.
“Do you need me to hold it out the window?”
I don’t have great cell service here, it’s better in the centre of the town, and I know this thing is to boost whatever sorcery she’s crafting on the laptop.
“You’re good…for now.”
I huff a laugh at her answer. Technology can be great, but nature will always be its sworn nemesis.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks whilst typing away, and my gaze travels up towards the cabin in question.
“It wouldn’t be right to ignore her plea.”
We’re Victoria’s only hope, and she’s told us she doesn’t care how he’s taken care of, just that her son isn’t there to witness it.
We’re to rid the world of John, then bring her child home. One less Sumus member is good enough for me.
Regina’s fingers hover over the keys, her eyes drifting up to focus on me. “What are you going to do with the kid?”
My head moves to rest against the car seat. I hadn’t thought that far when thinking things through. I’ve never had to deal with any witnesses, never mind rescuing someone.
I’m not exactly qualified for that. I’m hardly qualified as it is, just a girl with a ravenous hunger for vengeance.
Lucky enough to get away with it so far.
A rapid expulsion of air leaves my lungs. “I’ll figure something out once we watch his movements.”
I can’t put plans into place if I don’t know how John moves, how he lives. I need to make sure there’s no one else in that cabin with him first of all, learn his routine, check for vulnerabilities.
This one shouldn’t be quite as hard for anyone raising the alarm, seeing as it’s in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
At least that’s one thing on our side: minimal interruptions due to how far away each home is, and the way those trees provide enough cover and hiding places, it’s like the perfect hunting spot.
“Indie,” Regina sighs, turning to look at me from the passenger seat, “I’m really not sure about this one. A kid involved? This could go so wrong, like end-of-the-fucking-road wrong. I know you want to help. Fuck, so do I. But…”
Her words die off, gaze shifting past me towards the foliage-encased driveway.
“Do you think we could ask your—”
“No. Fuck no, Gina.”
Has she lost her fucking mind?
I stare at her with wide eyes, my lids so enlarged I’m surprised my eyeballs don’t roll out onto my lap. Hers are silently pleading back to me.
“How the hell would we explain how we got the information in the first place to Louisa?”
I can already hear how that one would go.
She’d interrogate the hell out of us; it wouldn’t be something we could shrug off if it didn’t go our way. I’d maybe be able to hold it out against my sister. I’ve hidden so much from her through the years.
But Regina?
She’d collapse like a wet piece of cardboard the moment Louisa got her claws into her.
“Louisa’s moral compass would kick in. She’d help the best she could. Meanwhile, me and you would be staring at polished iron bars and cracked concrete walls until they gave us the injection.” I huff a laugh. “Well, me at least.”
She runs a hand down her face; I can see this is gnawing away at her. She’s stuck between letting me go for it and wanting to believe there’s a better way for Callum.
Then she lets out a groan that fills the entire car. “You’re right. I’m just worried about you. Let me come with you.”
I baulk back. “No way! I can’t risk you, Gina. I’d never put you in harm’s way.”
“But it’s okay for you! You’re always out there alone,” she snaps back at me, eyes watering at the corners.
“Hey,” I say softly, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m never alone. I have you keeping me safe, my all-seeing eye always watching my back.”
I watch her eyes darting around my features, reading my expression.
She’s looking for any hints of worry, that I’m lying.
She won’t find it.
I’m an open book when it comes to her. She lets out a breath.
“I suppose I’m more useful behind a screen.” She gives me a weak smile.
I squeeze her hand as a warning this time. “Don’t you dare put yourself down like that, Gina. You’re insane at what you do. Fuck, I bet if we ever did get caught, they’d give you a deal and ask you to work for the FBI.”
Regina’s brain is like a sponge; she retains information and learns technology at an alarming speed. She’s a breathing cyber nightmare. She could have easily chosen a different career path, but she chose the morally grey one with me.
A ding tone sounds from the laptop, and I release her hand to let her get back to work.
“Okay, there’re only two cameras. One in the driveway and one facing into the back of the cabin.” She turns the screen to show me.
It’s really not ideal; there’s a tough sweet spot to get with surveillance. Too many means Regina needs to focus on multiple screens at the one time.
Not enough leaves me vulnerable to surprises.
We could have used an extra couple for the perimeter, and most importantly the cabin’s interior. It’s not exactly like this is the luxurious type of home we’re used to dealing with. It’s pretty basic.
“I’ll send the drone out.” She reaches into the back, pulling the micro-sized toy out of her backpack.
Regina dips out of the car, placing the device at the driver’s side and controlling it as it whizzes into the air.
Once she’s back in, we huddle together and watch the live feed from the laptop, resting it between us on the centre console. It scours across the peaking hemlock trees as Regina guides it, just over a hundred feet in the air, before the feed opens up to the clearing.
The A-frame cabin comes into view, its front exterior made up of a stretch of bay windows on the bottom floor. It looks like your average weekend getaway spot, nothing like someone in the elite would be caught dead in.
I suppose that’s the lengths you’ll go to to remain hidden.
Thankfully, it looks like there’s only one bedroom on the upper floor, and the stairs leading to it are able to be seen from the backyard.
“I’ll be able to get in from behind that second camera.” I tap the laptop screen.
She nods. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s there right now.”
The cabin has definitely been recently occupied; the top window is left open, the faint glow of a lamp someone’s kept on, and there’s a pair of muddy boots lying on the porch.
This could be my only opportunity to take a look around. We give each other a knowing look, and she reads my mind instantly.
“I’ll block the cameras and the driveway. Now, move your ass.”