“When did they call?”
I’m not surprised he’s jumped to that conclusion. “They didn’t.” I get up as the oven timer goes off, pulling plates and napkins out of the cupboards before removing the pizzas. “I had weekly texts for years. Sometimes they sent me photos of Jane even though I hadn’t asked for them. Man, that was hard. I wanted to go to her so badly.”
“It’s no wonder things never progressed with Shandra. I knew you were still pining for Jane, but this must have killed you, man.”
Charlie is the only one who knows what happened—or didn’t happen—with Abby’s other friend. “It did. Every time I got a photo, my heart shattered all over again.” I slice the pizza as I talk. “I was so tempted to find her, but the elite threat had not gone away even though most of the assholes were dead. Atticus was still MIA when we graduated RU, and though Hamilton was in jail, we all knew he was still playing an angle. When Zayn and Roman showed up, it confirmed Hamilton was continuing to use our loved ones against us, and it was still way too dangerous to go for her, so I began making active plans. I wanted to be ready to go get her when the time was right.”
Setting the pizza, plates, and napkins on the island unit in front of my buddy, I turn and grab two bottles of water from the fridge and reclaim my stool.
We dive into the food, both of us ravenous, and my story stalls while we eat. When we’re done, I wipe my mouth with a napkin, drain the rest of my water and stand. “I want to show you my office.”
Charlie climbs to his feet and joins me as I exit the kitchen and step out into the hallway. “I got close to Huss on purpose. Spent a year getting to know the guy and having him checked out to ensure he was the good guy we all believed him to be. When I knew I could trust him, I told him about Jane and her family. I asked for his help in finding her and bringing her safely back home.”
“Did he help?”
“He did. At first.”
Charlie arches a brow as we approach our destination.
“He was warned off seven years ago, and that’s when his involvement ended.” Stopping at my office door, I stand in front of the scanner. It scans my eye, and I press my thumb on the finger pad, and once my identity is verified, the door unlocks, granting us entry. “He thinks I gave up then too, but fuck that. This isn’t over until I find the bastard who sent Jane to her death and take him apart, piece by piece, before I end his miserable existence.”
“We’ll find him.” Determination is etched upon his face, and I’m grateful he forced my hand. I was close to breaking and having him on board makes all the difference. I should have told him years ago, but I didn’t want to be a selfish prick. Truth is, this has felt like such a lonely crusade without him and the others.
I open the door and step inside, quickly followed by Charlie.
“Holy shit, Manning.” His eyes are bugging out of his head, and I think I’ve shocked him again. I know what this must look like. This is the second biggest space I had built down here.
Photos, articles, travel and location information, and key pieces of intel are tacked to a whiteboard covering the entirety of the large rear wall. The long wooden table in the middle of the room holds maps, coordinates, and other paperwork. Computer equipment resides on the desk abutted against the wall on the right, and the wall on the left houses floor-to-ceiling shelving. Boxes of research line the shelves, all labeled and dated. Tucked into the remaining wall on our left, just inside the door, is a leather couch, coffee table, and liquor cabinet.
Charlie strides toward my evidence board, and I move to fix us some drinks. I definitely need alcohol for this next part. Pouring a generous helping of bourbon into two glasses, I take them with me as I walk toward my buddy. I hand Charlie one, standing silently beside him as I drag my gaze over the familiar faces pinned to the board. Rage infiltrates my veins as I look at some of the men involved in Jane’s kidnapping and sale. The fact all of them are now dead does little to appease me.
I take a mouthful of my drink and then start talking. “Huss promised he’d help keep Jane and her family safe if they returned to Rydeville, so I called the men who were with the Fords,” I begin explaining, and Charlie studies the board while listening. “None of them picked up or answered any of the texts I sent requesting an address.” Bile travels up my throat. “That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.”
“This was, what, a year after we left RU?”
I nod. “I was twenty-three, and it had been over five years since I’d last seen her. I was done waiting. I just wanted her back.”
He clamps a hand on my shoulder before returning his attention to the board and keeping his ears pricked. “When my messages started bouncing back, I knew the burners had been destroyed and I’d been played, but I didn’t know for how long. I was in a complete panic. I had no fucking clue where she was, and I regretted not asking her dad to put the information somewhere secure for a future time when it would be safe to come back.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Drew. You were only fucking seventeen, and you had to make a split-second decision to protect her. You did the best you could.”
“I made all the wrong decisions, Charlie. I should never have sent Jane away. I see now what I couldn’t see back then. Keeping her by my side was the best way to protect her.” I knock back the rest of my drink, relishing the burn as it glides down my bitter throat.
“Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I made tons of mistakes too, and I get it. This need to punish yourself for fucking up continuously.” Pain flares in his eyes. “My mistakes cost my father his life.”
“And mine cost Jane hers.”
“No.” He grips my shoulders, eyeballing me with a lethal look. “The only person responsible for Jane’s death is the man who delivered it. It took me a long time to accept that Hearst was responsible for my father’s death.”
I’m so glad me, Abby, and Mom all legally changed our names to remove Hearst from it.
“A part of me will always feel somewhat responsible even if I know your father would still have killed mine without my interference,” Charlie adds. “He knew he was plotting with Atticus against him, and my dad signed his death warrant the day he partnered with Anderson.”
“It doesn’t actually matter anymore,” I say.
“Of course, it does. You’re not living, Drew. You’re barely existing. You’ve got to stop punishing yourself and?—”
“We’re getting sidetracked. Did you come here for answers or to conduct a therapy session?”
