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 thelies 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.
