Page 41 of Borden 3

“Did he get into a car?”

“No, he was walking with the little girl.”

“And then?”

“Then it was like he knew we were following him or something. He started zigzagging all over the place. Down alleyways, through parks—”

“Where exactly did you lose him?”

“He went down an alleyway behind a dance studio.”

“And then?”

“He never came out the other side.”

“Then he’s still there.”

“No, Borden, it wasn’t like that. We scoped the whole place out. We didn’t leave a fucking stone unturned.”

“Well, you must have, Hector, because two people—a fucking father and his little girl—don’t just disappear into thin air.”

He hung up on Hector the second he began to defend himself. He didn’t want to hear it. He was way too close to comparing him to his brother. Borden didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to rub the salt into an already festered wound. Hector didn’t need Borden’s butchering about how Hawke never let him down. How every time he’d given him an assignment, Hawke had returned with information, no matter how hard it was. No, Hector didn’t need to hear that. He’d already gotten enough of being ostracised now that he was technically an outsider of his club.

Sighing, Borden ran a hand through his hair.

He looked out into their sprawling backyard, scanning the tall iron gates. He saw his men roaming it, caught the surveillance cameras and the booby traps they activated at nights. He didn’t understand his paranoia, but he wasn’t going to question it.

He had let his guard down once and he had wound up tortured nearly to death as a result of it. He still got ghost pains in the scars on his palms, thinking of the drill that slowly cut into him when he was tortured in that room.

That was nothing compared to the image of Emma buried alive. It continued to plague him, fuelling him to continue his obsession with making sure every threat was neutralised in this city. Especially when he had his treasure sleeping in a bedroom, surrounded by his toys.

Lincoln needed to feel normal.

This…This wasn’t normal, was it?

Borden returned inside the house. He paused in his step at the sight of Darlene still on the arm chair. He expected her to be half-sleeping, but she had her hands clenched together. He almost thought she was praying, but then he looked into her eyes and found them loaded with concern. Deep in thought, she looked up from her hands and at him. He slowly approached, digging his hands into his pockets.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Borden answered honestly. “Something strange happened at the charity tonight. Emma…she’s been off since.”

“What exactly happened?”

“She was approached by a man and his daughter. A little girl. She wanted to meet Emma.”

“Well, Emma has a big presence in the schools.”

“I know.” Borden frowned, that feeling growing stronger. “That’s not what bothered me.”

Darlene waited for him to continue, giving him time to prod his thoughts.

“Her reaction, Darlene, to the father…They knew each other. He’d been watching her for some time before he’d approached. When he finally spoke to her, he got close—too close. And Emma, normally she would have never tolerated that, but she looked…rattled.”

Darlene’s eyes looked distant now with thought. “That is strange indeed.”

“I can’t talk to her about it. She closes down.”

“That’s what you were fighting with her about?”

---