Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
"You need to have a conversation with Aspen," Hemlock adds. "She may know of places connected to the family that won't be as easily discovered by our guys."
I want to immediately reject the idea. Not because I think he's wrong, but because I don't think I can face her again so soon after what she disclosed to me. She also said it in front of Samuel, a man who works for Damien and has just as much to lose as Aspen does. I have no doubt the man would sacrifice our son to save his own daughter. The fucked-up part is that I'd be willing to do the same if the tables were turned. My number one priority is Eli now, but that won't stop us from doing our best to ensure we're able to bring all those kids home.
"We have to put him out of commission," I say, locking my eyes with Hemlock's. "The fallout from not doing it will be too great."
"I know," he says. "I've been on the phone with ICE as well as the CIA and FBI. We don't exactly have their blessing, but I won't let children die because they're trying to build a gun and drug smuggling case against him. Kincaid has told us to move forward, and that's what we'll do."
Chapter 14
Aspen
"What do you know?" I ask the second the bedroom door opens back up.
"Nothing new," he says as he steps inside, this time keeping his distance and the door ajar.
It's as if he knows it's not smart to be closed in this room alone with me, or as if he thinks he couldn't control himself if he were.
"I don't believe you," I mutter. "I don't think you'll tell me anything."
"I'm not asking you to believe me. I could give two shits if you trust a word that comes out of my mouth."
"What would you have done if you were in my situation?" I snap. "You were dead the minute Damien opened my bedroom door. Was I supposed to die right beside you?"
"Do you really think your father would've killed you?"
There's a part deep inside of me that would like to believe he cared enough for me not to sentence me to death, but I also never would've guessed he'd hurt children. Samuel made it very clear that Damien was just carrying on part of a legacy my father had built.
Tears leak from my eyes as I glare at him. Maybe one day, I can be upset and manage to keep my emotions under control, but today doesn't seem to be the day.
"It doesn't matter," he snaps when I don't answer. He thrusts a spiral-bound notebook and a pen in my direction. "I need all the addresses of every place you've ever been with Damien."
"That's really necessary?" I ask, wondering if he's trying to punish both of us by making me relive every minute I've spent with the man.
"The place was empty," he reminds me. "But they haven't been gone for long. We're trying to track him down but there has to be places you know about that we won't find digging through purchase records online."
"Makes sense," I mutter, looking down at the notebook.
I have a million things I want to say to this man. Hundreds of things I've thought up and have run through my head since he was in here not long ago, but I can't seem to find a jumping-off point that wouldn't end with him telling me to shut the fuck up.
"What did they find?"
He tilts his head but it isn't in confusion. He doesn't want to tell me, but I think it has more to do with sparing me than not disclosing information he doesn't think I need.
"Jericho, please?"
He narrows his eyes at me but doesn't challenge me not to call him what I heard the other man call him.
After a deep inhale, he speaks, and part of me wishes he would've just turned around and left.
"It was a house, not a school. It had four bedrooms. One room with a single bed. We suspect it was for whoever was tasked with keeping them there. There were two sets of bunk beds in each of the other three rooms."
"Twelve kids?"
My knees threaten to give out on me, and as I stumble back looking for the bed, he doesn't reach out for me.
"He has taken twelve kids?"
"We know there were twelve beds," he says. "Anything would help," he says, pointing to the notebook in my hands. "Don't leave anything out because you think it might be too small to house that many people. They could be in a one-bedroom shack in Rhode Island somewhere."
"Rhode Island? Where was the place Eli was at?"
"We don't know if he was there. There was no identifying information in the house."
"Where?" I snap, hating that he keeps talking me around in circles when there's no harm in answering my questions.