Page 47

Tory

We’d stopped searching through the boxes of evidence from the orphanage, and now every one of us watched Parked silently as he paced back and forth holding his phone to his ear.

My thoughts kept spiraling. I couldn’t stop picturing Jaxson and Onyx crawling through that demolished warehouse rubble, dodging fallen beams and warped sheet metal.

Cobra had shown us images of the demolished warehouse earlier.

The footage had been taken from a news chopper circling the wreckage, and the images were way too clear for my liking.

The old section of the wharf looked like a war zone.

Of course, the media were swarming all over it.

Another headline-grabbing disaster at Rosebud.

Just like the time we found that shipping container floating in the ocean with the bodies of those poor trafficking victims. Reporters had descended on that misery like vultures as their cameras feasted on the gruesome discovery.

“Jaxson’s not picking up.” Parker ended his third attempt to call his triplet.

“Damn it.” Whitney’s brows buckled as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Give him a break. He’s busy crawling through a demolition zone to find Blade and Viper,” Whisper said, shooting Parker a look that practically screamed calm down .

“Exactly,” Yasmin said, trying to ease the tension with a bubbly tone. “He’s not going to stop to answer his phone in the middle of that.”

“I know,” Parker said through clenched teeth. “I just need to tell him about Watts before Jaxson tells him about this paperwork.”

“Provided he hasn’t already,” Whitney added with a twisted scowl.

“Christ!” Parker threw his hands in the air and strode toward the windows at the back of the old gymnasium.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to focus, but my thoughts kept veering.

If Captain Watts is dirty, then every police investigation in Rosebud and probably Risky Shores, too, would be picked apart and scrutinized from top to bottom. Criminals could be set free.

A knot tightened in my chest. I hope we’re wrong about Captain Watts. I actually liked him. He’s a grandfather, for goodness’ sake.

“I’ll try Aria,” Cobra said. He put the call on speaker, and set the phone on the table as it rang.

Aria picked up on the second ring. “Cobra. You good?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone sharp with urgency, “but have you heard from Jaxson?”

“Yes!” Her voice brightened, relief spilling through the line. “I was just about to call you guys. Jaxson and Onyx found Blade and Viper. They’re alive!”

The room erupted in cheers, and Whisper pulled me into a tight hug.

“Thank God!” we both said at the same time, our voices overlapping.

Relief hit me like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of my lungs. I slumped against the edge of the table, my chest loosening for the first time in what felt like hours.

"That’s great news," Cobra said as he let out a long, relieved sigh. "How are they?"

"They’re still working on getting them out of the rubble," Aria replied. "They’re both weak and pretty banged up. Viper’s got a nasty broken leg, and Blade might have broken his foot. But those stubborn bastards are determined to crawl out of there on their own if they have to."

"Sounds like someone else I know,” Whisper called into the phone. “I hear you checked yourself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders."

"I couldn’t just sit in a hospital bed while my men were in trouble," Aria said with a huff.

Cobra chuckled, then he said, "Aria, I hate to bring this up now, especially after such good news, but . . .”

"What now?" Aria snapped.

"We’ve found something troubling," he said. He strode to the paperwork on the table and pressed his finger halfway down the page. "A name has come up in our research.”

“Who?” Aria demanded.

“Watts." Cobra sounded apologetic.

"Captain Ian Watts?" she snapped. “Are you sure?”

"All we have is that surname, so we don’t know for certain," Cobra said. "It could be a relative, but it’s sus as all hell. Especially as our investigations keep getting sabotaged."

“Jesus Christ.” Aria’s tone dropped to lethal. “Keep that to yourselves until you have concrete proof. If it is our Captain Watts, and he’s tangled up in this, we can’t risk tipping him off.”

“Understood,” Cobra said.

Aria huffed. “This goddammed town . . .. When are the nightmares going to end?”

“Speaking of nightmares,” Whitney said. “Hi, Aria, it’s Whitney Foster here, Jaxson’s brother.”

“Hi, Whitney, thanks for helping out. What have you got?”

“I found out B’s first name.”

“I’m listening.”

“Beatrice,” Whitney said. “I overheard Cooper Heathcote call her that . . . just before she shot him because he demanded more money from her.”

“Cooper is corrupt? Ah, Jesus. I hadn’t heard any of this. Christ. What the hell’s going on?”

“Well, you probably don’t know this either, Jaxson found a fresh body at Angelsong Orphanage. A woman probably in her fifties or sixties.”

“Holy shit. Do you know who it is?”

“No.” Whitney looked like he was going to vomit. “Unfortunately, Beatrice stole the body before she burned down Angelsong Orphanage.”

“She what?” Shock registered in Aria’s tone. “Fucking hell. I don’t have time for this. I have to go.” Aria’s tone could crack bricks. “I’ll call you later.” She ended the call.

Cobra turned to us. “Maybe the Watts surname is just a coincidence. It might not be our captain.”

“I agree,” Parker said, striding back to us. “We can’t jump to conclusions about Captain Watts. Maybe he had a brother or an uncle.” Despite his words, doubt was written all over his face.

“Still, the fact that our investigations keep getting sabotaged is hard to ignore,” Whitney said.

No one spoke as the tension in the room thickened.

“Let’s keep going with these files,” Cobra said, reaching into the box in front of him.

I forced myself to focus, though every part of me felt weighed down—whether by the sheer exhaustion creeping in or the crushing weight of everything we’d uncovered so far, I couldn’t tell.

My chest felt tight, and my hands trembled as I reached for the next stack of documents.

I couldn’t stop now. I had to keep going.

I wanted to be awake when Jaxson called. I wanted to hear his voice, to know for certain that he was okay. To hug him.

Billie walked into the room pushing a pram with little Jack inside.

“Oh, thank God,” Whisper said, practically leaping up from her chair. “I need a distraction.”

I followed her to the pram, grateful for the break from the endless, grim files.

“Look at him,” Whisper cooed, crouching next to the pram. “He’s getting so big.”

I leaned over, unable to resist smiling as baby Jack kicked his tiny feet. “He’s adorable.”

Billie’s face lit up. “We just thought we’d stop by. We heard the good news. ”

“Thank God, huh? I bet Levi was going bonkers,” Whisper said, straightening up.

Billie let out a long, weary sigh. “You’ve got that right. You know how he is.”

“Oh, I do.” Whisper smirked. “That man wears his emotions for the whole world to see.”

Billie chuckled and scooped her long ponytail off her shoulder. “It’s one of the things I love about him.”

“Speaking of love,” Whisper said, her tone teasing as she raised an eyebrow, “when are you two getting married?”

Billie shrugged, though the corners of her mouth twitched with a smile. “Don’t know. I’m still waiting for the big lug to propose.”

“Maybe Maya’s wedding will light a fire under him.” Whisper wriggled her brows.

“Maybe,” Billie said with a soft laugh. “But I’m not too worried. We’re already a family.”

As Billie’s gaze lowered to her baby and a look of absolute joy swept across her face, it hit home just how right Yasmin was.

Despite all the hell that had descended on our towns, so many of them had found their partners through the chaos they endured.

And amidst all the darkness, there were still moments of magic that reminded us of how special life was.

Maybe Jaxson and I can make our own kind of magic when he gets back.

The thought warmed me, and I had to stifle a giggle before forcing myself back to the files. Reluctantly, I reached into the box again.

The documents seemed to blur together, each one worse than the last. Photo after photo of bruised and battered children stared back at me, their hollow eyes burning into my mind.

Some photos had names and dates scrawled on the back, which I handed off to Cobra.

Most of them had nothing, and I kept wondering who took the photos and, more importantly . . . why?

I couldn’t look at them anymore. I just couldn’t.

Skipping over the stack of photos, I reached for a ledger buried at the bottom of the box. Its cover was worn and faded, and the year “1978” was scrawled across the top in crooked handwriting with a black felt pen.

I flipped it open to a record of children who had been admitted into the orphanage.

Each entry listed a date of admittance, a date of birth if known, sex, and, if known, the names of the mother and father along with how they had died.

There were columns for the last known address and next of kin, but most of those were blank, just empty spaces where basic details should have been written.

I scanned through the names, searching for anything that stood out.

My heart twisted as I realized how little information some of the children had.

For many, their entries were heartbreakingly sparse.

No family, no history. Some didn’t even have a name, and that implied that they had been abandoned, or left on the orphanage steps like they didn’t matter to anyone.

I turned the page, and a name leapt out at me like a bolt of lightning: Kincaid. Specifically, the five Kincaid brothers: the bastards who’d changed their names as they grew older and then unleashed hell on our tiny towns.

The brothers had all been admitted to Angelsong on April 19 th , 1978. Their mother and father were listed as deceased. No known relatives. No last known address.

Mark Kincaid - Born 1973