When Fates Align

by Isabelle Richards

  “Go ahead, Sully,” Roger says. “You’re patched through.”

  “Gavin’s there?” Sully asks, squinting at the screen. “All I can see is your sad-looking mug, Roger.”

  “I’m here, Sully,” I chime in. “What have you learned?”

  Sully takes a deep breath. “We’ve been working with the task force liaison all day, bringing them up to speed with Lily’s history and our now-tanked case against Morelia. We sent them everything we have, and it’s my understanding the task force has determined that this will be the primary avenue of investigation.”

  Isla looks up from her phone. “Thank you for that. Your files were critical to getting everyone on board. Task forces are often like herding cats. But once you stepped in, it helped everyone fall in line.”

  “We’ll still leave two agents assigned to vetting the most viable threats on Gavin, but no one expects anything to come of that,” Leo says. “They just need to eliminate all other possibilities.”

  “Yeah, that’s why we’re calling.” Sully looks to the right. “Greene? You want to take this?”

  Greene comes onto the screen. “Hey, G. There’s been a development. After talking it over with the task force, we all agreed that we’d be the ones to discuss it with you.”

  The tension in his voice makes me disquiet. Sully always defers to Greene when there is bad news, but Lily’s dead. Nothing Greene could tell me could be worse than that. Greene blathers on about file sharing with the task force, but I’m not really listening. I’m fixated on whatever news he could have that could possibly be worse.

  Peter taps my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little green around the gills.” He snaps at Richard, “Toss over one of those bottles of water.” Richard grabs a bottle from the tray on the table next to him and throws it to Peter. After opening it, Peter hands it to me. “Drink up and try to take deep breaths. I know this is bloody hard. You don’t need to sit in on this, you know. We’ve got this.”

  I shake my head. “No, I need to hear it.”

  “Greene, just spit it out already,” Nigel says. “You’re killing us over here.”

  Greene looks off to the side, probably taking some cue from Sully. “We have Lily’s prints on file. We sent them to the task force to complete the body identification, and they aren’t a match.”

  “What?” everyone in the room says in unison.

  “The dead body in your apartment is not Lily,” Green repeats.

  Chapter Eight

  Lily

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Is this Chinese water torture? Endless dripping on your forehead? If it is, it’s working. It’s so fucking cold in here, I’m likely to freeze to death. There’s obviously no heat in this defunct storage unit, and it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. The constant dripping doesn’t help. My muscles ache from shivering and being taped in the same position for so long. I try to move my fingers and toes, but I’m losing feeling in them.

  How long have I been here? Days? A week? After Potato Nose got the bullets out, Crazy Eyes started looking worse, and they high-tailed it on out of here. With no windows or food, I’ve lost all grasp of time. Each second feels like an eternity. I feel as if I’m stuck in a loop of monotonous pain and fear and boredom. The pain is manageable, but the sheer dread of what’s to come is destroying me.

  What if they’re not coming back? I’m not sure how I feel about that. If they come back, I have a chance of pulling something out of my ass to escape. But more likely than, if they come back, they’ll either kill me or ship me off to some sadistic bastard who will torture then kill me. On the other hand, I think I read somewhere that dying of dehydration isn’t the worst way to go. I think you just get lightheaded and sleepy.

  Perhaps leaving me alone is part of the plan, a way to fuck with my mind before the real fun begins. Gavin’s voice rattles through my mind, retelling all those stories of the horrific ways they torture people. Hurting people isn’t enough for them. Oh no, they need to get high off of fear, intoxicated by screams. They concoct schemes to break your spirit, to make you plead for death. I’d like to think I’ll fight them to my last breath, that I would be strong enough to suffer in silence rather than give them an ounce of satisfaction, but I’ve never endured pain like they dish out. Like what they did to O. What if they cut off my fingers? Or my tongue? I may have bravado to spare, but even I can’t fake my way through that.

  My thoughts flash back to O. Her screams reverberate in my mind. I pray shock came on quickly, relieving her of the pain. The sight of her on that wall will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Images of Gavin coming home to that sight sends shivers up my spine. He has to assume that’s me smoldering in his apartment. Oh, Jesus! His heart must be breaking. My chin falls to my chest as hot tears threaten to spill. I pinch my eyes tight, not wanting to give them one blasted tear. If the roles were reversed, I’d come completely unhinged. Catatonic? Psychotic? Murderous rampage? All of the above. Knowing Gavin, he’s blaming himself. As if he doesn’t already have enough albatrosses around his neck. I’m sure he’ll see me as yet another woman he couldn’t save.

  Chapter Nine

  Gavin

  People clamor around me, but I can’t hear a thing. The only thing running through my mind is that Lily’s alive. A warm flood of relief courses through my body. Lily’s alive! The sorrow and anguish seep away as I envision seeing her again, holding her, and—

  And then the penny drops.

  In the course of two minutes, I’ve gone from epic elation to utter despair. Yes, there’s a chance Lily’s alive, but where is she? If the cartel has her… my mind swirls with images from the files Leo’s shown me. Women tortured. Violated in every manner possible. Slaughtered in the most gruesome manner. These men thrive on torture. They crave the high they get from shelling out unspeakable amounts of pain. Making Lily suffer will be a sick game for them. They’ll push her until her spirit and mind break, then they’ll kill her. And they’ll do it all for sport. For fucking entertainment.

  I have to find her.

  A wolf whistle breaks up the clamor around me. “Lads,” Isla shouts, “have you been monitoring all of Gavin’s phones? Email accounts?”

  “Of course,” Roger says. “I’m not a bloody idiot. I have done this before.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “And has there been a ransom demand? A threat of any kind?”

  He takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “No,” he says with frustration. “I would’ve told you if there were.”

  She crosses her arms. “Then she’s dead.” She glances at me then continues. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s no way Morelia would grab her then sit on a ransom demand. Especially with all the zeros in Gavin’s accounts. You would’ve gotten word by now. You haven’t—that tells me she’s dead.”

  “McGregor, right? From Interpol?” Greene asks.

  “Yes,” she replies. “I was on the conference call with you earlier today.”

  “Fucking Interpol,” Sully mumbles. “Smug know-it-alls.”

  “Agent McGregor, I respectfully have to disagree,” Greene says. “We deal with cartel kidnappings all the time, and sometimes the families don’t hear anything for weeks. I think it’s irresponsible to assume she’s dead.”

  “You may work on these cases, but I know this cartel better than anyone. If a ransom demand hasn’t been sent, she’s dead. Or will be very soon.”

  I pound my fist on the table. “If there’s a chance she’s alive¸ we are looking for her.”

  “The task force has already begun looking for her,” Leo replies. “Lily is every agency’s top priority.”

  Isla throws her hands in the air. “Where are you looking, Leo? They don’t have contacts here. No connections to give them a place to hold her. This move was spontaneous. There wasn’t time to plan, to scout out or rent a place. That leaves taking her back to Mexico. On a private plane
,” she shrugs. “It’s possible. But to get a private plane with a flight crew that isn’t going to blink when they haul on board a woman who’s kicking and screaming, that takes a chunk of cash. With all the infighting, the minions are gaining power, but they aren’t liquid just yet. There’s no way they have the cash to pull this off. She is dead.”

  “No one is giving up on this case,” Leo snaps. “We’ve done more with less.”

  “We’re moving forward under the premise she’s alive,” Nigel bellows. “If you want to earn your check, you’d better start thinking about how they’d pull this off instead of telling me all the reasons they wouldn’t.”

  “Isla,” Greene chimes in—I’d forgotten they were still on the line, “I hear what you’re saying, but nothing they’ve done in regards to Lily has been textbook. She has history with Rafael Martinez, and I think it’s throwing him off his game. They could have killed her a million times, and they didn’t. They’ve been holding her late husband’s kid for weeks and haven’t asked for a dime. The way they killed that body in Gavin’s apartment… that was a show. Why go through all that just to take Lily and kill her somewhere else? If the plan was to kill her, why not just do it at the apartment? Now they’ve got to move her, which is a risk, and dump the body somewhere? It doesn’t add up, but we have room to figure it out. Don’t throw in the towel yet.”

  “I’ve got two theories,” Sully says. “They threatened Lily with the kid—I could see her agreeing to go to Mexico willingly for him. She’d probably even buy her own ticket. Or these guys are smart enough to know Gavin’s going to be under a microscope, so this is a K and R, and they’re going to the Grimaldi family for a payout.”

  Leo absently taps his pen on the table, looking as though he’s considering Sully’s ideas. “They’d have to have some pretty big bullocks to kill Lorenzo Grimaldi one day then try to shake them down for a ransom the next.”

  “Isn’t that what they’re all about right now?” Sully asks. “Showing the world they have the biggest cajones?”

  “It’s an interesting theory,” Leo says as he types on his mobile. “I’m sending that to the task force. Will the FBI be willing to help investigate this?”

  Isla dramatically groans. “Stop it, all of you. You’re just giving him false hope.” She slaps her hand on the table, getting my attention. “There are only two ways this plays out: they kill her or they sell her. If the plan was to sell her, then they probably had a buyer lined up and the hand-off has already taken place, and we’ll never find her. The earth might as well have opened up and swallowed her whole. Either way, she’s gone. I’ll help you search, but we’ll be lucky if we come back with a body.”

  I stand and point at the door. “Isla, if you’re giving up, you can show yourself out. Lily is out there somewhere, and we won’t stop until we find her. If I have to tear this bloody country apart piece by piece, I will find her.”

  Nigel puts his hand on my shoulder. “No one’s giving up.”

  Leo clears his throat. “If I may?”

  I nod. “Please.”

  Leo leans forward in his seat. “We have the task force using all legitimate sources to try to find her. You have connections, means of collecting information that are beyond our access. Especially if we have to look into the human trafficking arena.”

  “Which you do,” Isla pipes up.

  He flashes a look of annoyance at Isla, then continues. “I suggest you utilize those resources and see if you can generate any leads. We can continue to share information. I don’t care about accolade or credit. I just want to bring this girl home.”

  “That’s all we all want,” Nigel replies. He looks at his watch. “It’s eleven now. Let’s reconvene at six in the morning unless there’s a development.”

  Standing, Leo picks up his mobile and notebook, then he holds his hand out to Nigel. “Speak to you then.” He turns to me. “Someone from the task force will be by tomorrow to see if you can help us identify the victim.”

  “Yes, of course,” I reply.

  Once Leo leaves, Nigel hands out directives, and the room explodes with energy. Mobiles out. Car keys in hand. Jackets on. They file out to shake trees and turn over rocks. I wish everyone could work from here so I could be aware of their progress, but that’s the thing about investigations. The people you need to rely on most aren’t the people you can email or call for a friendly chat. The sources that might know where this piece of human sludge is hiding are the underbelly of society. They hide in the murky corners of dank pubs. They’re in the back rooms of brothels getting head (or giving head as the case may be), or they’re dirty cops sitting in the comforts of their middle-class homes. Either way, they don’t answer when you ring.

  Roger stays behind to continue looking for a digital footprint to follow. More often than not, that’s how these cases are solved. If there’s a ghost of a clue, Roger will find it.

  Furious and helpless, I pull out my mobile and scroll through my contacts. I ring anyone of influence on either side of the Atlantic: Scotland Yard, SIS, CIA, FBI, DEA. Anyone I know who works for an acronym receives an earful from me. Whatever influence this cartel is wielding, I must exert more. Lily will not remain in the hands of those psychopaths because some bureaucrat is too scared to act. Whilst I appreciate the cartel has made an art form of intimidation, I will single-handedly destroy anyone who stands in the way of rescuing Lily.

  At some point, I’m awoken by the sound of a buzz saw. I jump off the sofa and see Roger passed out on top of his computer. I try to coax him into moving to the sofa, but he growls at me.

  “It’s your neck, mate,” I whisper as I plop back down on the sofa.

  As I search for the next person to harass, my eyes refuse to focus on my mobile. After a few minutes, I put my mobile down and walk to my bedroom. As much as I want to fight through my exhaustion and keep searching for Lily, I’m worthless right now. Still in my clothes, I crash onto my bed. I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

  Chapter Ten

  Lily

  I can’t feel my arms or legs anymore. In a way, it’s a blessing. I no longer have to feel the rats brushing against my toes. Sadly, I can still hear them, and that’s bad enough. The endless squeaking and scratching. The pitter-patter of their little feet while they circle my chair as if they’re scoping out the all-you-can-eat buffet before deciding where to start.

  Snap. Sizzle. Pop.

  My body tenses. What the hell was that?

  The already dim light bulb burns out, leaving me in shrouded in darkness, immersed in this black void of dread. I push out an unsteady breath, my hope and optimism escaping with my exhalation.

  When I was taken by Charlie, I knew I had a fighting chance. He needed information and didn’t have authorization to kill me. And he was there—I could fight back. But this time, I’m completely alone. There’s no one to fight. I have no tricks to pull out of my hat to help me escape.

  Since they left me, I have been repeating a mantra in my head. Gavin will find me. Gavin will find me. Gavin will find me. But I can’t lie to myself any longer. I’m in a fucking storage unit… somewhere on the planet. Since I don’t know how long I was in that trunk, I could be in the UK or in freaking Siberia. How could he possibly know where to look? Even with all his Mission Impossible toys, there’s no way he’ll find me.

  Even if he found some clue, he couldn’t get to me in time! I’m not sure exactly how much time has passed, but I know dehydration and starvation are becoming real threats. Being tied up for this long is cutting off the blood flow to half my body, and that can’t be good for my circulatory system. Dammit, why didn’t I pay better attention in Anatomy? On the other hand, maybe it’s better I don’t know.

  I have to start facing the reality of this situation. I’m going to die here, in this damn tin box, surrounded by rats. My resolve shatters, and for the first time, I allow the tears to fall. I don’t think the rats will think any less of me.

  Chapter Eleven

>   Gavin

  A knock on the door startles me out of a dead sleep.

  “Gavin, I have a lead.”

  Those few words energize me, sending a jolt through my weary body and soul. I jump out of bed and open the door.

  Isaac points at my crumpled, day-old attire. “Would you like to shower and change first?”

  I push past him and head down the hall. “Do you think I bloody care? Where’s everyone meeting?”

  Isaac jogs to catch up. “Everyone’s still sleeping or out. I just pieced this together and wanted to tell you straight away.”

  We reach the end of the hall, and I look to him for direction.

  “I’m set up in the study, sir,” he replies.

  “What did you find?” I ask as I take the stairs two at a time.

  “You asked IT to track down Ms. Phillips,” he begins.

  My heart sinks, and I freeze on the stairs. “I thought this was about Lily. You woke me up to tell me about O?”

  He gestures for me to keep going. “This is about Lily. Please just listen.”

  Nodding, I continue down the stairs but with far less gusto.

  “Just bear with me whilst I explain it all. The IT department sent me their report. Her last credit card purchases were on the tenth of February. First she went to a dry cleaners, then she went to a salon and had her hair dyed. “

  I push open the door to the study. “Jesus, man, is there a point to this?”

  “She hasn’t used her cards since. No cash withdrawals. Nothing.”

  “That’s surprising for Olivia, but what does this have to do with Lily?” I ask as I collapse onto the sofa.

  “I looked at the address of both the cleaners and the salon. They’re in your neighborhood. It’s the same cleaners you use, the same one she’s picked up your cleaning from a dozen times. The last charge rang through thirty minutes before the alarms went off in your flat. On a lark, I looked at the footage Richard has of cameras on your street.” He opens his laptop and hits play. A shiny silver Tesla drives down Seville Street, parks, and a woman steps out.