CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Brooke’s phone rang, and she’d been so engrossed, she nearly fell off the chair. The book she’d been reading hit the floor with a thud. She ignored it and grabbed her phone. “Sarah!”
“Brooke? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, but how are you?”
“Okay. It’s a bit crazy around here. I know they haven’t found the orphans yet and I’m scared to death they won’t in time. I found out who the other three are and sent Caden their names.”
“So you haven’t learned any more on your end?”
“No, but Kristin is beside herself. She loves all the children, of course, but Paksima is special to her. She was trying so hard to figure out a way to adopt her.”
Brooke closed her eyes and fought the despair that wanted to overtake her. Reading had distracted her for a few moments, but until she heard the kids were safe, she wouldn’t be able to fully relax. “Sarah, these children are being transported to some kind of medical facility. Can you think of anything you might have heard about which one or where?”
“No, nothing. And believe me, I’ve been looking. They’ve assigned a new director to the orphanage who seems to be on the up-and-up. The FBI, Caden’s friend Felicia, has searched the office and everywhere else we could think of, and so far there’s nothing.”
“What about his home, his computer, his phone?”
“Yes, of course. They’ve got all that. One thing Felicia said was interesting about his phone is that he was making calls to someone in South Carolina over the past few days.”
“Who?”
“They can’t figure that part out. It’s one of those prepaid phones.”
Brooke sighed. “Of course it is.”
“They’ve recently discovered that the recipients were using a dark web site. They did get that out of the director.”
“Great. That’s completely untraceable, isn’t it?”
“So everyone thinks, but Caden said they’ve got their professionals working on it. That’s all I know. I’m sorry, Brooke. I’m not much help.”
“I guess you’ve already done your part. It’s up to the authorities at this point.”
“I guess. I’ve got to go.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I’m not sure, but Kristin is being transported back to the US to heal. Her parents will meet her at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida and take her home. She’s from Orlando.”
“Okay. Stay safe.”
“Always. You too.”
“Always.”
She hung up and stood to pace, her shoes silent on the wood floor. How could she figure out where the children were being taken? She scoffed. If the FBI and everyone else working this couldn’t figure it out, why should she be able to?
But there must be something—
Her phone buzzed and she didn’t recognize the number. She stared at the screen, then decided to answer. “Hello?”
“Is this Brooke?” a soft voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Monica.”
“Oh, hi, Monica, I’m very glad to hear from you.” Silence. Then a rustling sound came over the line. “Are you there?”
“Yes. Sorry, I had to move into another room. My dad and one of his weirdo friends are here.”
“Weirdo friend?”
“Some guy he used to work with. I can’t stand him, so I just disappear when he comes over.”
Well, that didn’t sound good. “Does he ever . . . hurt you?”
“No, no. I just think he’s creepy. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.”
That was a relief. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Can you meet me?”
“Um . . .”
“I . . . I mean, if you’re busy, it’s okay. Never mind. I’m just—”
“No, I wasn’t hesitating because I don’t want to or I’m too busy, I just don’t have a car here and I’m about an hour and a half from you.”
“Oh.” She sniffed. “It’s okay. I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I . . . I’ve been thinking and I’m trying to figure out why I’m even alive . . .” Her voice caught on the word and Brooke’s heart thudded.
“Oh, Monica, I can assure you, there are so many reasons why you’re alive.”
“Name one.”
“You’re alive because God decided you would be an amazing addition to the world.”
The teen huffed a watery laugh. “God, huh? Can we do this without bringing God into it?”
“Well, I suppose we can try.” But Brooke knew the conversation would circle back to him. Assuming she could figure out a way to get to Monica. “What about your dad? I got the feeling he didn’t want you talking to me.”
“He thinks everyone can deal with stuff without talking about it. Like he does. But I’m not like him. And by the time you get here, he’ll be gone. I overheard him talking to what’s-his-face about needing to go meet someone in about thirty minutes. I just thought it would be nice to talk to you again since you . . . um . . . helped last time, but forget it. I’ll just—”
“What about FaceTiming?”
“No. Never mind. I’m bothering you. I didn’t mean to. I seem to bother everyone these days. I think it might be better if I wasn’t here.”
“Monica, I gave you my number. If I thought you were a bother, I wouldn’t have done that. I meant it when I said you could call me.” Brooke paused. “What do you mean if you weren’t here? Do you mean at home?” Or something else?
“I mean on the planet!”
Suicide. “Okay, you’re hurting, I get that. I’ve been there, and it will get better. So let’s talk about some things you can do in the meantime.”
“I just . . . never mind.” Voices in the background reached her. “Hold on a minute . . .” The voices faded. “They’re gone. I’m all alone now. Dad said he’d be gone for several hours.”
Brooke closed her eyes. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. “I’ll be there in two hours, okay? Give me a bit of time to sort out transportation and I’ll be there.”
A pause.
“Monica? Promise me, if I come all the way to Greenville, you’ll be there.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll be here. Just . . . can you hurry?”
She hung up, her mind in a whirl. No, she shouldn’t do this. She needed to stay put.
But . . . no buts.
She pulled up Monica’s number from the list of recent calls and let her thumb hover over it. Just tell her you can’t come, that it’s too dangerous and you’re staying put.
But . . . what if the teen was suicidal? That was the impression she’d given her.
Brooke closed her eyes. Please, God, I don’t want to do anything stupid.
What if she didn’t go and Monica did something? Like try to kill herself? Could she live with that, knowing the girl had reached out for help and Brooke had refused? Or put it off?
“Ugh . . .” She had to. Of course she did. She couldn’t help the poor missing orphans, but she could help Monica. Or at least attempt to.
She went looking for Lyric and found Nicholas in the kitchen, grabbing a fruit drink from the refrigerator. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I was looking for Lyric.”
“She left to run some errand for Mum. Anything I can do for you?”
Brooke frowned and narrowed her eyes.
He laughed. “Oh, come on, I can be nice. I only say the things I say to get a rise out of Asher.” He bowed. “I’m at your service.”
“Hmm.” Brooke had to admit she had no idea what to think of the man, but . . . “Could I borrow a car?”
He blinked. “What? That’s a bit cheeky, isn’t it?”
“I know I’m asking a lot, but I need to get to Greenville and Asher isn’t here to take me.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be going anywhere. Isn’t that the whole reason you’re here?”
“Yes, yes it is, but . . .” She sighed. �
�Look, this is important. I need to go. I made a promise to a young girl that I would help her. I plan to ask the police officer outside to follow me.”
“You can’t do this over the phone?”
“Apparently not.” She really wanted to see the girl face-to-face. If she was truly suicidal . . .
“What do you think Asher would say about this?”
“He’d probably tell me to stay put. And he’d be right, I probably should, but—”
“But you’re going anyway.”
“Yes, because I have a feeling this girl doesn’t have many people she can reach out to—if any, now that her mother’s been murdered. So, do you have a car I can borrow or do I need to pay for an Uber?”
“Ouch. That would be a tidy sum, wouldn’t it?” He capped his bottle and pulled keys from the front pocket of his khakis. “Well, come on. I’ll take you.”
“What?”
“Get your purse and coat. I’ll take you.”
“What about your client?”
“My father’s client. They’ll never miss me.” A muscle jumped in his jaw until he forced a smile.
“But I really shouldn’t leave the security. No. This is a bad idea.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I’ll stay here and figure something out. Never mind.”
“What if we have security with us? Would that help?”
“Tremendously.”
He headed for the garage. “I’ll let them know. I’ll be in the red Beemer when you’re ready.”
Three minutes later, Brooke climbed in beside him. “I’m not sure I should let you do this, but I’m desperate.”
“You really know how to stroke a guy’s self-esteem, don’t you?”
She grimaced. “Sorry.”
He backed out of the garage, and Brooke soon found herself on the interstate heading toward Greenville.
Nicholas fell silent and Brooke wondered if she was supposed to talk. “Why are you helping me?” she asked.
“Because it will stick in Asher’s craw that you left the house.”
“You do understand that I’ve had people trying to kill me.”
He flicked her a glance. “Are you sure about that? Sounds like it’s just Asher’s overactive imagination.”
Brooke frowned. “I’m pretty sure the bullets flying in my direction were real.”
“Bullets? Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“But no one knows where you’re staying, right?”
She shook her head. “As far as I know. We were really careful when we drove here. Took a very long and circuitous route.”
“I don’t know. Asher always liked to exaggerate things—even as a kid. It’s his way of getting the attention he craves. Like joining the Army. So common.”
“Is that still a thing?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The whole snobby thing. Commoners versus the upper class.”
“Well, it is in my family.”
“So you’re an aristocrat? You hold a title?”
He laughed. “Not really, but Mum is descended from the royal family. It’s a very far descent, but . . .” He shrugged.
And he milked that for all it was worth. “Asher doesn’t care about that sort of thing. Why does that bother you so much?”
“Because it’s a reflection on the family,” he snapped. “He’s always doing things to drag our name through the muck.”
“Hmm. So you’re only doing this to make him mad?”
“Well, I could tell you really thought you needed to come, so . . .”
She glanced at him. “You’re not such a bad guy, are you, Nicholas?”
He tsked. “Now, don’t go ruining my reputation. That’s Asher’s job,” he added with a sniff.
“You really should sit down with him and talk. He just wants to get along.”
“I’ll think about it. Are you going to call Asher and tell him where you’re going?”
“I probably should, but I don’t want to ruin his time with PJ. That’s not fair to either of them. And if we have security around us, then I think I’ll wait a little while before I call him.”
“Right. Security.” He studied her for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to the road. “So tell me about this whole thing with the orphans and the people who are trafficking them?”
Brooke talked until they pulled to a stop in front of Captain Newell’s home. Monica stood on the front porch wrapped in a blanket.
She turned to Nicholas. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll let Asher know where I am and he can give me a ride back to your parents’ house.” She glanced around. “I don’t see your security people, Nicholas.”
“They wouldn’t be very good at their job if you could see them, would they?”
She didn’t like the uneasy tone in his voice but let herself be distracted by Monica, who was waiting on her.
He stopped her with a hand on her forearm. “Brooke—?”
“Yes?”
“Um . . . nothing. Just . . . uh . . . nothing.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Be careful.”
“Of course.”
She slipped out of the vehicle and shut the door, then hurried up the front porch steps.
Asher packed the gear and fishing rods into the cargo box in the back of his truck, then climbed behind the wheel.
“So, I have a question that I’ve been wanting to ask,” PJ said.
“Go for it.”
“What happened to your truck?”
Asher glanced at the teen and twisted the key. “Someone ran me off the road.”
“Dang, that stinks.”
“Yep.” Asher pulled away from the parking area and got on the road that would lead them back to the Newell home. They’d fished for a while in silence, then Asher had asked a few general questions to get the kid talking. He figured he could cover anything else on the ride home. “Now, my question for you. Why’d your dad think this would be a good idea? You and me getting together?”
PJ laughed, a rusty unused sound, but a laugh nevertheless. “Who knows, man? He’s had something eating at him even before Mom was killed.”
“Like what?”
PJ lifted a shoulder a fraction, then dropped it. “I don’t know. Stuff like keeping things short on phone calls when they managed to connect, and about a week ago I heard him yelling at her about something and she started crying.”
“Is that why you’re so angry with him?”
Another shrug and silence.
“He said you wanted to join the Army, be a Ranger,” Asher said.
“Thinking about it, but he won’t even discuss it with me. Every time I bring it up, he says, ‘I’m not a Ranger anymore.’ Either that or he’s got somewhere to be or someone to see.”
Asher frowned. “It’s a tough career. Maybe he wants you to really think hard.”
“Might have more to think about if he’d discuss it with me. The more information I have, the better decision I can make, don’t you think?”
“I can’t disagree with that.” It was actually a very mature observation.
“Look, Asher, I’ve got a good head on my shoulders, thanks to my mom. I know what I want, and in six months I’ll be eighteen and he doesn’t get to have a say in it.” PJ paused. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want his blessing, though.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“So why does he dodge the topic every time I bring it up? Do you know?”
Asher considered the heartfelt question. “I have an idea why.”
“I’m listening.”
“He’s already lost your mom. And he had a bad scare with Monica’s illness. Being a Ranger’s tough. Dangerous a lot of the time. Could be, deep down, he’s afraid if you go after that particular career path, he’ll lose you too.”
PJ fell silent. “Maybe, but I get the feeling it’s more than that. Like he doesn’t want me to go into the Army. Period.” He sighed. “Which I don’t get because
most career Army are more than happy when their offspring follow in their footsteps.”
“Most. I can think of a few exceptions. Look, you’ve just lost your mother. Give him some time to get things arranged for you and your sister. It could be that he’s just really stressed right now.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not making excuses for him, PJ. He can be a hard man to know and talk to. I figured that out about ten minutes after meeting him. I’m just saying give him some grace right now and let him deal with everything related to your mom before you try to talk to him about this again.”
PJ fell silent. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he finally said. “Thanks.”
“Sure. So what do you think about doing this again? I mean, if you can stand to hang around an old guy like me.”
PJ shot him a half smile. “I think I’d like to give it a try.”
Dr. Geraldine Frasier washed her hands, dried them, then walked into her connecting office. “Are they here?”
“En route,” he said. “They’ve had to be extra careful because of all the media coverage.” He stared at his reflection in the window. Six feet tall, broad shoulders, and a military haircut. He was amazed his criminal activities weren’t noticeable just by looking at him.
“I’m surprised to see you here. Where’s your errand boy?”
“Running another errand. He’ll be here soon.”
“What about Brooke Adams?”
He turned. “She’s the errand. Asher left the house a while ago headed toward Greenville. Buzz is on his way. He’s working on taking care of her while her watchdog is gone—although he did say the security around the home was practically impenetrable.”
“That’s not good.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I’ll take care of her if it comes down to it—just like I’m going to have to take care of everything else related to this.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “This is the last group. At least for a while. Things need to calm down before we can continue the work. If we even can. Dr. Madad is dead. Yusufi’s been arrested. We don’t have anyone in the orphanage anymore. The soldiers are still available for transporting the kids simply because they believe they’re doing a good thing smuggling the orphans out of the country and into the loving homes awaiting them in the US—like Garcia thought he was doing.” He couldn’t help the smirk that lifted the right corner of his lip. “Of course, once the media publicizes the arrests and the fake adoptions—and what the children were being used for—those soldiers will disappear. But the ones who like the money will still be there.” He raked a hand over his mouth. “For now, though, we’re on hold.”
Collateral Damage Page 24