“I’m not sure what I’m even looking for,” Ken admitted less than an hour into the process. He held up a notepad, where he’d been listing points to follow up on. “You did verify all the properties you could trace to him, right?”
Trevor, who sat on the floor next to Hamish, looked up from his current box. “Yes. His and his sons. We searched all his holdings, and if we don’t have someone on the premises of the vacant properties, we have security cameras to alert us immediately.”
“What about the brothers’ families?” Ken asked. “Families of the men who were killed?”
“Everyone we could apprehend and question was cleared,” Trevor said. “They all knew of Faegan’s order to bring Tamsin to him, but apparently, the kill order was only issued directly to his men, and they kept that a secret. Most likely because Faegan knew there would be many in the pack who’d balk at taking things that far. And, yes, Primes interrogated them. They were all left with Prime commands to immediately contact us if Faegan makes contact, or if they hear of anyone else making contact with Faegan, or someone trying to make contact with them on Faegan’s behalf. We’ve traced everyone we could find from his pack and Primed them.”
Ken studied his list as he chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Okay. Yes, he could have secret stashes of cash—or a go-bag or something—that gives him access to money and fake IDs. But he’s completely cut off from his normal support network. Meaning it’s possible he has contacts outside of shifters, such as humans, that no one else knows about. Maybe even overseas.” More list staring. “You went through all his cell records, right?”
“Correct,” Trevor said. “The ones we knew about, and burner phones that he used to contact his people. We backtracked numbers through their records.”
“And nothing?” Ken asked.
“All the burner accounts we know about have all gone silent. There have been no unaccounted contacts to any of the people we’re monitoring. We’ve run down every single caller to verify their identity.”
“But they’d be forced to report to you anyway if there was contact, regardless of how it happened, right?”
“Exactly,” Trevor said.
Hamish opened another carton as the men continued to go through Ken’s list. He sadly smiled as he found pictures of him, Bryn, and Donnel near the top. It was one of the few pictures from their youth that Faegan wasn’t in. He even remembered the day it was taken, how new the “technology” had been back then, the three of them sitting, holding impossibly still for the process while their mother smiled from her chair at the back of the studio.
He’d encouraged her to join them, but she’d mumbled something about not wanting to displease their father. The four of them had taken a trip to London to go shopping, especially for Bryn, who’d never been to the city. On a lark, their mother had shuffled them into the photographer’s studio, which sat close to one of the shops they’d visited.
She died five years later, if he remembered the timeframe correctly.
He looked up when Trevor touched his arm. “Are you all right?” Trevor asked.
Hamish took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose at the prickle in it. He held up the picture to show them. “Myself, Bryn, and Donnel. May I have this?”
Trevor’s brows knit in confusion. “Hamish, all this belongs to you now. He never changed any of the paperwork your father put into place—you are the rightful heir.”
He blinked. “I-I’m sorry? What?”
“That’s another thing we’ll accomplish while you’re here—transferring all the assets into a trust under your control. I already have our barristers working on that.”
Hamish looked around, certain he’d misheard him, but everyone seemed to know this except him.
Jake laughed. “Glad I’m not the only one whose fucking mind is currently blown.”
That popped the tension and Hamish shakily laughed. “I really don’t want it,” he said. “I’d prefer it go to Tamsin. And Ken.” He looked at him. “They’re the true descendants.”
Ken’s eyes widened. “Yeah, uh, I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything else,” he said. “Not sure I have any claim to it.”
“Your mother was Bryn and Donnel’s daughter,” Hamish gently reminded him. “You’re a direct descendant, even if Faegan never would have acknowledged it. You and Tamsin should have it.”
“What about Imani?” Peyton asked.
Hamish froze, staring at the photo in his hands. “Yes,” he softly said. “She should have it, too. Three-way split. If Donnel has any children, they should also have a share reserved for them. As long as they aren’t involved in this business.”
Ken sat back, setting his notepad down. “Um, we still haven’t even told Imani the truth about all of…this.” He waved his hands in a circle. “Dropping the bomb on her that she’s inheriting a chunk of a sizable estate in the UK might not be the best place to start that process. Not without breaking the other news to her first. We owe her that much.”
Trevor nodded. “True. I mean, none of this needs to be settled today, obviously. The process will take time. Then she can be added to the trust at Hamish’s order.”
The search continued. After standing to stretch, Hamish walked over to Ken, where he was going through paperwork. Next to him were several photo albums that looked reasonably new.
He picked one up and began paging through it. From the types of photos and the colors of them, it appeared to have been started in the 1960s and progressed toward more modern photographs. There were few of Faegan, and some pictures missing, which he found tucked loose into the back of the album. Some of Faegan, some of two other men he didn’t recognize.
From the photos of one young man who was suddenly no longer in any of the photos, he suspected that was Ben, the son killed by Faegan and his next-youngest child. None of Hyacinth, however.
