Page 55 of Broken Promises
I looked at her and noticed she was a smaller version of herself, and her beautiful green eyes were glassy from unshed tears. Walking to her, I hugged my sister tight and asked, “Are you okay?”
I was afraid this was bringing back painful memories for her, and when she nodded, I pushed her back slightly and made her look me in the eyes. “I’m just worried about Hannah. She . . . she told me about what happened six months ago, and . . . I . . .”
Pulling her back against me, I whispered, “We’ll find her.” She nodded and sniffed, so I suggested, “Why don’t you grab us some coffee and snacks. And bring enough for more people. Lucian’s men are on their way to help.”
“Okay,” she said and walked out of the room with her shoulders drooping and her head down.
Returning to my chair, I saw James looking at me, so I explained, “She’s worried about Hannah.”
He pinched his lips and offered a knowing nod. Now wasn’t the time to speak about what Regan had survived, or how hardit had been for us to find her. That was Regan’s story to tell another time.
Devlin had the list of members from the original Syndicate pulled up, and one by one, Skid was giving their status to him. Devlin would mark through them or color code their name, depending on what Skid said.
“Donovan,” Devlin said.
“Jacob, Michael, and Joseph are all in prison. Paul and Isaac are dead,” Skid responded, and Devlin marked the list.
A few minutes later, I heard something behind me, and I turned to see Regan walking in, pushing a cart filled with food and drinks, followed by four men I knew to work with Lucian. I stood and greeted each of them while Regan placed everything on the banquet table and walked toward the door. I could tell she was listening to the list as Devlin and Skid worked, and just before she got to the door, I noticed she paused and glanced over her shoulder.
We had at least three more hours before the blood tests would be finished, and I felt like we were running headfirst into a brick wall. The sun had set, and the black sky was an ominous warning as they finished the list.
“Did we figure anything out about the ones still alive? Are they in prison? Have any been released? There has to be something,” I remarked as I took a swallow of coffee.
Lucian’s men, Devlin, James, Skid, and I looked back and forth to each other, but no one had an answer. The feeling of defeat was pressing down, and the longer Hannah was gone, the more I felt like she wouldn’t ever come back. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I feared she might not make it out alive. If that was the case, neither would I.
“What about their women?” a small voice asked, and we all turned to see Regan standing in the doorway with her hands linked in front of her.
“Come in and tell us what you’re thinking,” James suggested, and tentatively, Regan walked in.
Once of Lucian’s men—Johnson, I think—gave Regan his chair. I leaned over and urged her on. “Say what you said again, please.”
“I said, what about their women. You’ve been trying to figure out which of the men could be responsible, but no one’s thought about the women. The wives, girlfriends, mistresses, etc. They were the ones left behind without money, without their spouse or whatever, so it would stand to reason that one of them had a grudge and wanted to see this whole thing be resurrected,” Regan explained, and I sat back, stunned.
I’d never thought about the women connected to the Syndicate, other than those who were forced into it without a say.
James smiled at Regan, and she perked up as he said, “That’s a great fucking observation, Regan.”
Everyone got to work, and I gave Regan a hug before she left us. We had a list of wives and known girlfriends, but mistresses might have been more difficult to discover.
But I had to think about what Rylee, Hannah, and Claire endured in that house six months ago, after we’d uncovered the madness. Was it possible that a woman was controlling it all? For what purpose?
“Do we have the footage from the parking lot yet?” I asked James, and he typed it into his computer.
“It just arrived in my inbox. I’ll pull it up on the big screen.”
We all watched as the four-camera footage was broadcast onto the giant monitors on the wall and we queued it to start playing ten minutes before their lunchtime. At eight minutes after twelve, we saw Hannah walk out and speak to a man with dark shaggy hair and baggy clothes.
That must be the trainee she spoke of. We continued to watch as she followed him to his vehicle and got into the passenger’s side. The entire vehicle wasn’t visible, but Hannah’s window was, so when I saw her yell and spin her head toward the man in the driver’s seat, I knew this was where her abduction took place.
All we needed was a tag number and we would know where to start looking for her. He pulled out of the space, and James screenshotted the license plate before he restarted the video, allowing us to see the vehicle pull onto the road and disappear from our screens.
“We have something to go on, Rhys,” Devlin said and pulled open a screen.
After accessing the Tennessee Department of Transportation website, Devlin clicked on a small icon on the bottom left of the screen. A log-in screen appeared, and he typed something into the fields before pressing enter with a sick smile.
The states database was opened to us, and when he inputted the tag into the system, it spit out a name, address, and a copy of his license photo.
The only problem was, the information provided belonged to someone Lucian had killed six months ago, so we just ran into another dead end.
