Page 111 of Beautiful Chaos

“When did you leave?” I can't help but ask as I look into the sleepy little town. Nothing about it stands out to me except it’s only a forty-five minute drive from Scar’s hometown. It’s a larger suburb, known for housing middle to upper middle class families. Good public schools. It’s so insanely average, I can’t connect it with the horror of his words.

“Just after you went to put Roe to bed and the redhead started singing on the table.” His voice is starting to even out. At least that’s something.

“Why would your father have a safehouse in the most mundane, average town?” Clicking through local newspapers just confirms my thoughts. Absolutely nothing of interest.

“The house is its own form of trauma,” he sighs. “I think he planned to bring her here once he found her. Everything here is dedicated to her. It’s like a house of horrors.” With every word his voice becomes more and more hoarse. “Old clothes that must have survived the fire. Even an extra cheer uniform,” he whispers and a new murderous rage bleeds into my vision, making it hard to focus.

I can barely stand to hear what he has already said, but he continues, painting an even more gruesome picture. “There’s a soundproof room, with chains and all this terrible shit, Noah. I almost wish I had never found it,” he admits. I can’t blame him, just hearing about it is enough to turn my stomach. This conversation will haunt me for years to come. Maybe Scar doesn’t need to know this part.

“Photos of him and her were already here. Tucked in drawers next to the bed in the master bedroom. Even more in a photo album. Fuck, sorry,” he cuts off. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Nausea turns my own gut as I can hear Charles gagging and hurling over all he found. He’s right. Whatever those photos hold, we can't give them to Scar. She’s the strongest person I know, but the photos Romano had on him were almost enough to destroy her. She doesn’t need to know there’s a whole house somewhere on the East Coast dedicated to her trauma and humiliation.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he comes back to the line. “This is just sick. Worse than anything I had imagined.” His voice has aged years since I last saw him mere hours ago. “The other photos,” he forces himself to continue. “I think he collected them from other places and dropped them off here last night. They were in a briefcase and put into a safe at the back of a closet.”

“You can break into safes?” That’s a useful skill. We normally have to rely on Scar and Kade for that. Luca could probably do it too, but I’ve never seen him have to.

He scoffs. “The code was her birthday.”

Chills run down my back. I guess no one else would make the connection or even remember her birthday if they did. We’re both silent at the depravity of his obsession with her even after all these years. How many other young women has he hurt and killed in all this time?

“Who were the other men?” I finally ask, looking at all the names on my screen. So many potential candidates, all of them need to be wiped from this earth. But two of them are out of time. Two of them were responsible for the pain in Scar’s eyes, the gauntness of her cheeks, the frailty in her heart. Two of them will be dead by the end of the week.

“Daniel Bernard.”

I reel back at the first name. He was on one of our lists, but as an unlikely candidate. Someone that had been seen with Donahue but only briefly. Not someone who has ever seemed to cross the line again. Has had a fairly clean history other than a few suspicious meetings years ago.

“The Dean?” I snap.

Charles sighs. “It explains a lot, actually. So much happened on school property that never should have been allowed. Even if she had lost the protection of her family. Scholarship students were always bullied, but the school never allowed it the way they allowed what happened to her when she came back.”

A new hate begins to bloom at his words. She never had a chance.

“And the other?” I demand.

“Jeffrey Schroder.”

At least his name makes sense. He was one of the names I would have bet money on. A business partner to both Scar’s father and Charles’ as well as a good friend of Declan’s father. All the connections were there.

“How sure are you?” I have to ask. We need to be more than positive if we’re going to convince Scar she doesn’t have to look at the photos.

“I grew up seeing these men almost every day,” he answers. “I promise it’s them. We don’t need her to confirm it.” I breathe a sigh of relief as I begin to put their names into the program I’ve been working on. We will have every insignificant detail about their lives by the end of the day. Bank accounts, social media, addresses, possible aliases, associates, businesses, shell companies. Every bit of information that could even potentially be traced back to them will be in the palm of my hand.

“Noah,” he sighs. “What do we do with this house and these photos? I want to burn it,” he admits, emotion choking him.

“I do too,” I agree. “But I don’t think we can. It will tip your father off.”

Neither of us say anything as we try to figure out the next best step. Declan or Luca would know what to do. We can’t tip our hand, but we also can’t just leave the house alone. As if summoned by my thoughts, Luca walks into the office, hair disheveled and a wary look on his face.

He studies me as he puts a cup of coffee on the desk next to me and takes a long sip from his own mug. “Why are you awake so early, Noah?”

His question jars me, but of course he wouldn’t know. I motion to the phone. “Charles found the other men.” Luca snaps to attention and holds his hand out for the phone.

“Tell me everything,” he demands, but it’s not as harsh as he normally speaks to Charles. I click through several of the documents my program has already spit out on Dean Daniel Bernard. Been in his position for sixteen years, happily married, and has two grown sons. He’s built his reputation as a family man, maintaining his position by pushing the school to higher academic achievements and bragging about a welcoming community of outstanding and talented individuals. What a fraud.

Luca nods along as Charles updates him on the situation. It only takes a few minutes to get all the pertinent information out. “Noah’s already working on it. I want you to hold your position until someone comes to relieve you. Bring a few of the photos that clearly identify all of their faces.”

I don’t need to be able to hear Charles to know he’s protesting.

---