Page 23 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
“They’re either all dead, which seems unlikely,” Rowan said, “or the rats are finally abandoning ship. The chat rooms and servers Zanmi used are now quiet or have just completely disappeared. The major players we didn’t nab in the raid haven’t been heard from in weeks.”
“And we’re checking to see if any of them have returned to their ‘normal’ lives,” Will added, using air quotes around the word normal. “If they’re no longer with Zanmi, they’ll need to survive somehow. The newer ones should return to their jobs or their mom’s basements soon, but the long-term members without Zanmi’s support might begin applying for jobs or leases.”
They could only hope. As much as he wanted to believe members were leaving the group, Rowan had found no evidence of that being true. It was as if they had all vanished.
“I’ve worked hard to keep this quiet and not to pat myself on the back, but I’ve done an outstanding job,” Jamison said. “However, you’re right. By now, Zanmi must know what went down.”
Jamison truly had done a stellar job. They’d collaborated closely to spin the story just right. She provided measured comments to the pressabout themildincident at the infamous Fairweather family property known as Haven House, claiming another attempted break-in by Toby’s group. Meanwhile, Rowan planted false police reports for the media to discover and coordinated with Ben to keep the situation tightly under wraps.
“I don’t think they’re dead,” Will said, excitement creeping into his voice, recognizing today as a victory. “But I do think the veil of Sinclair’s leadership has lifted. Zanmi might finally see he doesn’t have their best interests at heart, which could benefit us. The whole thing could implode from the inside out, and we won’t have to do anything but watch it fall.”
Chapter 6
“Thanks for stepping in on this,” Will said to Agent Anderson as they walked him to the front door. “Less than a month to go before you retire, and I dump this in your lap.”
Hands in his pockets, Anderson grinned as he took in the paintings and décor lining Haven’s central hallway. “You’re giving me one last thrill before it’s over.” He paused to admire the grandfather clock that had been counting the minutes at Haven House since the day she was built. “And with Carter agreeing to come work for Liam, I couldn’t help but throw my hat into the ring.”
Trailing behind Will and her father, Jamison leaned over to whisper in Liam’s ear. “Carter?”
“Carter is Agent Anderson’s grandson. Our families were close when I was a kid, and once Samuel hired me, the first thing I did was try to bring Carter in,” Liam told her. “But he wasn’t interested. He thought private security would be boring after being in the Marines.”
Jamison snorted. “He’s obviously never met us.”
They exchanged grins and continued arm in arm down the hallway once Anderson finally gave up his inspection of the grandfather clock. Simone waited at the front door, her posture perfect and that practiced smile of hers as sharp as ever.
“Ms. Howard.” Agent Anderson gave Simone a curt nod. “Thank you for allowing me into your home.”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t under more pleasant circumstances,” Simone replied, the crisp politeness not missed by Klausen, who hurried past to wait on the porch. “I understand we’ll be seeing more of you?”
“You will,” Anderson confirmed. “I’ve assembled a small team, but they’re some of the best for handling this kind of situation.”
Simone frowned. “Do you see manysituationslike this?”
Agent Anderson chuckled along with Will. “More than you’d think.”
Jamison shot Liam a sideways glance, and he merely shrugged. “People are crazy.”
“Ah, but it’s the crazy ones who keep the job interesting,” Anderson said, wandering over to examine the small cluster of paintings near the foyer mirror. “And if truth be told, I don’t mind. I’ve always wanted to see this place. Haven House is something of an urban legend in my family, and when Tobias Miller was arrested, I realized my mom wasn’t completely nuts.”
“Come again?” The smile on Simone’s lips dimmed. “What do you mean by ‘legend’ in your family?”
“My mom used to talk about this haunted house her grandmother grew up in and how she visited it once. My brother and I always thought it was just another one of her wild stories, but she swore it was real.”
Jamison noticed her father was also frowning, almost mirroring the guarded look on Simone’s face. “Only the Fairweathers have lived at Haven House. We’ve been here since the eighteenth century.”
“My mom was Anne Anderson. She was a travel photographer, and we were always in the Caribbean or on some exotic adventure growing up.” Anderson’s gaze drifted up to the massive crystal chandelier hanging over their heads. “But this definitely is the place she talked about. Haven House. I think we even have a photo of that very chandelier stored in a box somewhere.”
“Ben, wasn’t there an Anderson family who once lived close to Haven?” Simone asked, relaxing a little, but not entirely. “I remember seeing the name on an old survey map when we added the gates.”
“Yeah, but that place burned down over a century ago,” he replied. “If that was your mother, it wouldn’t be the same family.”
Anderson shrugged. “My mother never married and kept her family name. The grandmother who supposedly lived here was from her father’s side, so maybe those Andersons do belong to me.”
“Any idea if—” Jamison started to speak, but was cut off by her father laughing.
Loudly.
Everyone turned to stare. It had been so long since Jamison had heard him do much besides snap or bark orders, and the sound of his laughter had her heart feeling light again.
