by T. K. Chapin
"Good thinking."
"Yeah, anyways, what'd you figure out?"
"Check this out," he said, leading me over to the desk in his room. He reached down and hit a couple of keys on the keyboard. An excel spreadsheet showed up on the screen. Lots of numbers, then more numbers, then what looked to be currencies. It didn't make any sense to me at first glance.
"What is it?"
"It's transfers. These are account numbers. Basically, all of those account numbers are receiving large payouts, all from this one bank account number over here."
"Who has the bank account handing out all the funds?"
Mikey smiled. "Who do you think?"
Sitting down on the bed, I rubbed a hand over my face as I tried to let the reality of what he was saying sink in. Mikey wasn't done explaining either. He went on.
"Also, these bank accounts getting the money from Lighthouse . . . They're not just little people. We're talking CEOs of some of the biggest names in Spokane, even in the world." He handed me a paper, names all listed next to the deposits. It was a printout of the information from the computer. Hundreds of millions of dollars were flowing in and out between accounts offshore. This was bigger than anything I could've fathomed.
After reading over a few names, I looked up at the kid with a sudden sense of dread. "Mikey, there are senators on this list. Could you imagine if this got exposed?"
He nodded, sitting down next to me on the bed. "Maybe it wasn't Lighthouse trying to kill you. Have you thought of that?" He handed me a blown-up photo captured from a security camera. I saw the masked man and a woman. Leaning in closer for a look of the woman’s face, my jaw fell open.
PART III
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
STANDING BEFORE HIS CLIENT FOR what he hoped to be the last time, the man slid his mask off his head, letting it fall from his fingers onto the desk in front of him.
"It's done."
"You're sure?"
"I pushed the truck myself down the hill and off a cliff in the back country of Idaho. I’d say so."
She looked at him with a glare. It wasn't enough for her. She needed to hear the words.
"He's dead, ma'am, and the thumb drive is destroyed." Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out a smashed thumb drive that was not more than a few pieces of broken plastic and warped metal. The truth was that the masked man hadn't found a thumb drive on Ron, but he wasn't about to let a little chunk of metal stop him from getting the details of his sister's location. He used the fake thumb drive Ron gave him at the house. The man figured when Ron Fields went off that cliff and died, so did the secrets the client wanted kept silent. If she or someone ever did figure out what he had done, it wouldn’t matter. He’d be gone by then. He didn’t care about his reputation. He cared only about his sister.
The client stood up as a relieved smile broke across her face. Her heels clanked against the smooth hardwood floor as she walked around the desk and over to the man. Leaning in, she looked deeply into his eyes. Chilling, yet for a moment, seductive. The man suspected she was trying to determine whether he had lied or tricked her in some way, but the years he had spent in dangerous situations leading up to this day had taught him to keep calm. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then released it and proceeded over to a bookshelf on the far side of the office. Reaching between two books, she retrieved a sealed envelope and brought it over to him.
"Thank you for your services."
He took the envelope and slid it into his breast pocket, not opening it in front of her. "Good day, ma’am."
He was almost to the door when she beckoned him.
“Timothy.”
A chill the length of his spine washed over him. Looking back at her, he raised an eyebrow.
"I'll call you in the future if I need you?"
He smiled at her but said not a word.
Shutting the office door behind him, he made his way outside and up the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath in, he let the air permeate his lungs, relaxing him. After a moment had passed, he pulled the envelope from his suit jacket. Opening it, he pulled out a picture. He almost dropped it when he saw his sister’s face.
It was Catlynn all right. Dark and welling circles beneath her eyes, track marks up and down her arms, and that void look of aimlessness hanging in her eyes as a man's arm draped around her shoulder beside her. Other than a few more years that hadn't been kind, she hadn't changed a bit. She looked just like she did when she left their parents’ home in Houston, Texas. She hadn't stopped the drug life. She had just moved locations. Along with the picture in the envelope, he found a folded white piece of paper. Unfolding it, he read an address. 6543 Kennedy Dr. Apt #B202.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
READING MY OWN OBITUARY IN the newspaper the next day was a bit unnerving. His own daughter valued him as a saint, and the Lighthouse community is grieved over the loss, the paper read. Yeah, right, I thought to myself. I laughed and brought my toast up to my lips for a bite. I was in the dining area for breakfast in my hotel. I set the newspaper down on my table to take a drink of my orange juice when I caught sight of a lady across the way. She looked familiar. It only took a second more to realize who it was. Teresa. I knew eating down here was a mistake. An uneasy feeling swooshed around in my stomach with my breakfast as I felt my plan falling apart at the seams.
I stood up to leave, and she did also. There was no way of avoiding her, avoiding this. She had spotted me and was making a beeline right for me.
I headed over to a large set of windows that overlooked the swimming pool and hot tubs of the hotel. There wasn't anybody there. It'd give us a chance to speak privately. As I peered through the glass at a family below, she joined my side.
"Teresa."
"I have half a notion to beat you with my purse right now, Ron!” Her voice was a violent whisper. “I thought you were dead. Why are you pretending to be dead, Ron?"
I didn't say anything to her, just raised an eyebrow as I continued to look through the glass at the pools.
She turned and pushed my shoulder, forcing me to look at her. “Ron, what is going on with you?”
“How’d you find me?”
She glared, not saying a word. Then, she spoke. “I’ve been dating you for over a year, Ron. You don’t think I know where you’d stay? You always stayed in Shilo Inns with your parents when you traveled, plus your truck parked outside was a dead giveaway before today. I came this morning after I heard you’d died on the news. My heart wouldn’t believe it.”
I laughed. “Sounds like you figured it out.”
“Stop acting like I’m the bad guy here.” She touched my shoulder. "I want to help you."
Furrowed eyebrows and a stern look filled my expression as I felt frustration bubbling over. "Was any of what we had real? I have to know. It's been haunting me for a while now."
Her eyes began to water. "Of course, it was, Ron. All of it, other than the first time we met, was real. You don't know that part? Do you?" She grabbed my hands, coming closer. I wanted to pull away, but I didn't. She continued. "I left Lighthouse and told Henry where he could stick it after our first day."
"You gave it all up? How am I supposed to believe that, Teresa? I saw the letters."
"Henry doesn't have the word no in his vocabulary." She started crying more, and it hurt to see her broken like this, but in a way, it was good we were finally talking.
“What about the letters—”
"I called Henry after I got those letters and reminded him I was done, just like I did shortly after I met you. I tried to tell him I was done, Ron! I promise!" She pressed a hand against her forehead. "This shouldn’t be why you end things with me. Give me a different reason to walk away from us, because something that isn’t even a thing shouldn’t come between us. I love you, Ron. I’m so sorry that it started that way, but I’m not sorry how it ended up. He knew you disapproved of Lighthouse and he wanted someone to keep an eye on you, but I fell for you right away, Ron, and I fell h
ard. I knew there was no way I could go through with being Henry’s informant. This isn’t an act. God gave me you, and I believe that. I don’t want to lose you for a past that God has already forgiven me for.”
Lowering my hand, I motioned for her to quiet down. Then, I took her by the hand, and we went over to a chair in the lobby to sit.
Leaning over in the chair next to her, I handed her a box of tissues. "You just sat there and listened to me and comforted me every time I talked about wanting to get Emily out of there and failed miserably to tell me a single part of your past involving Lighthouse and Henry. What am I supposed to do with all of that? Sweep it under the rug? Act like it's no big deal? God has forgiven you, yes, that’s true, but I am merely just a man. Being lied to and having my daughter in danger are things I can’t get over and just overlook."
"I know. I did try to tell you. I wanted to tell you, but he threatened her life to me. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t going to risk getting Emily killed by telling you everything. He doesn’t listen to logic or reason."
"Well today, he'll listen." Pulling the thumb drive out from my pocket, I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at it. "I have collateral."
Her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead as fear struck her. Shaking her head, she said, "You can't just reason with him like a normal person. He won't listen to you, Ron! He’ll kill her and you!"
"He will listen, or I'll expose all the corruption that is going on in that place. It'll ruin him forever. And if even a fingernail of my daughter’s is broken, I will kill him."
"You're going to threaten him?" Shaking her head, she leaned in and grabbed the back of my head gently as she let her forehead rest against mine. "Please, Ron. You don't know him. Let me help you."
"It's Emily in there!"
She nodded and looked me in the eyes. "Let me help. I'll broker the deal. He likes me. I'm one of the original girls. It's the only reason I'm not already dead for leaving that disgusting cult. I’m your best chance. I can get a meeting with him.”
I wasn't sure if I could believe she was on my side, but then I thought about detective Jackson, about Charles. They were both dead, and my daughter was next. I had to trust Teresa. Looking at her, I asked, "So you really gave yourself to Christ when you were baptized?"
She nodded, a smile filling her face the next moment. "Yes. That first Sunday I went to your church, I experienced God for the first time in my entire life, Ron. It started a change in me. And I realized over time through learning about Jesus that Lighthouse was wrong in so many ways, that it was a cult."
"That makes me happy, Teresa. Now let's get my Emily back."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
TERESA AND I HEADED UP to my hotel room. There wasn't much conversation on the elevator ride up. I kept asking myself inside if I could really put my trust in her after all that had happened. I decided in prayer that I had no other choice but to trust her. I was running out of options.
As we stepped off the elevator, I let her exit first, and I smiled at her as our eyes met. Walking down the hallway, I said, "Mikey's just a kid, but he knows a lot."
As I looked in her eyes, my heart bled out through the slices of truth. This woman was scared. It was written all over her face what I was feeling in my heart. We feared losing the best relationship we had ever found. We were scared of losing us.
Shoving the key card into the slot, I pushed open the door and held it for her to enter. My eyes darted down both directions of the hallway and then I followed her inside. Letting the heavy hotel door shut, I joined her side as our eyes fell on a sleeping Mikey beneath the covers.
"Wake up, Mikey!" I hollered.
He groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head. Passing by Teresa, I went over and drew the towering curtains back from the over-sized window near his bed.
Looking at him, I said, "We need to get moving. They open in an hour."
"The Cresting isn’t until tonight, though. Why the rush?" he asked.
Shaking my head, I glanced over at her and then back at the kid. "You won't get it until you have kids. I would've broken down the gate if I thought I could have gotten in there and had this done last night. C'mon, I need to introduce you to someone. She's here to help. Her name is Teresa."
"Hi, Mikey." Her tender voice in the room lifted Mikey's eyes and head. He turned and looked at her, and then sat up quickly, pulling his blankets up close to him.
"I had no idea you brought someone into the room." He looked at me with disdain looming behind the whites of his eyes.
"Teresa is one of the—"
"Originals, yes, a Sandrosa." Mikey's eyes looked her up and down. "How do we know you're not working against us instead of with us?"
I sat down on the bed next to Mikey and looked him in the eye. "We have to trust her. Look at all the lives that have been lost so far, kid. Henry is a nutcase, and for whatever reason, he favors her. She's our best bet in brokering the deal."
Mikey glared over at her. "You're the boss. I still get the Camaro even if this all goes south, yeah?" His eyes met mine. We had made a deal yesterday.
"Of course. If we're not dead."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
TERESA CALLED AND MADE AN appointment to meet with Henry. The earliest he had was one o'clock that afternoon. Henry didn't know it, but I'd be joining her for the meeting. That morning, I told Teresa about the near-death experience I had by the hand of the masked man, and then I handed her the security footage camera printout that Mikey had tracked down on a downtown camera.
“That’s the masked man who killed Charles.”
She looked over it and then looked a little closer. "Do you know who this woman looks like who’s with him?”
I laughed as I glanced over on the bed as Teresa sat beside me looking at the picture. I saw Maria in her red cloche hat I bought her for her birthday years ago. "Yeah, it’s Maria."
Teresa’s eyes widened, and she brought the picture in for even a closer look. “Are you serious? It’s her?” Looking up, she set the picture down in her lap. "I know exes don’t like each other, but why would she want you dead?"
"She's crazy?" I replied.
"Oh, c'mon. Every guy says their ex is crazy."
"Yeah?" I laughed. "How about the fact that when I was ten minutes late from getting off work when we were married, she threw glass plates into a wall? Or maybe the time when I forgot the sour cream from the fast food Mexican restaurant and she got in the car and wasn't heard from for three days? I’m telling you, Teresa, she's a straight loon."
"Okay, okay. That's crazy, but to kill you?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. She did leave me to die in the mountains on that trip." I shrugged again. "I'd say she wasn't capable of it if the evidence wasn't stacked against her."
Soon, it was time to leave, and we rode in Mikey’s black van. Pulling into a spot in the parking lot, I put the van into park. Taking off my seatbelt, I turned around to face Mikey. He lowered the headphones he had on and looked over at me from his chair facing a half-dozen monitors. "Give me a few minutes to tap into the network and get a feed on the cameras. It shouldn't take long." He cracked his fingers as his eyes surveyed the nothing but static TVs that lined the one side of the van, then he focused his sights on the computer monitor that sat below them.
Turning back around, I looked over at Teresa. She looked as nervous as I felt.
"You okay?"
She nodded. "Just feels weird to be in this parking lot again." Her eyes glided over to the compound's cinderblock walls and gate. "I haven't been here in so long, yet it feels like just yesterday.”
“How long has it been?”
“Oh, jeez. I don’t know. You know, this place feels different than it did back in the day."
"What do you mean?"
She turned to me. "It feels dark."
Mikey interrupted us with good news. "I've got cameras one through eleven . . . and there's twelve. We're good to go. Go get your daughter."
&
nbsp; CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
JOAN'S EYES STAYED ON ME like a hungry viper as I sat with Teresa in the lobby waiting for our meeting with Henry. The light sound of music playing in the background mingled with the sounds of the artificial waterfall on the far side of the room. It was peaceful, but it did little to calm my nerves. I could feel my hand tremble as I sat waiting for the fate of my daughter to unfold.
A woman came out into the lobby.
"Makaya."
Glancing around, I didn't see anyone else around, and then Teresa rose to the name. Recalling the different name that Emily went by, Mya, I assumed changing names must be something they did for all the women. Standing up alongside her, we followed a curly dark-haired woman through a doorway and down a white hall. As we walked, my heart began to beat clear up into my ears. It was if we were walking into a meeting with Satan himself. We walked through a light misting of a liquid that seemed like water. It was brief, but cooling. We turned and went down another white hallway. Though the whole place was bright and cheery, I knew the heart of Henry was far darker than any person I had ever met.
The woman stopped and opened the door, motioning with a hand for us to go in. "Make yourselves comfortable, and he’ll be with you shortly."
We walked into a nature-filled room that had plants growing in every square inch of it. Plants even hugged the door, blending it in. The door shut, then seemed to vanish into the scenery behind us. What sounded like faraway birds echoed through my ears, and the smell of a fresh rain hung in the air. Remembering the mist we walked through, I realized then that it was some kind of drug-like affect that was making everything seem wonderful. This room wasn't anything like I had experienced. It was odd, but strangely calming and enjoyable.
Turning to Teresa, I saw her scooping up a purple and yellow butterfly between her hands. She lifted her palms in the air and it flew away. Watching as it did, I said, "That was beautiful."