Page 22 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)
Chapter 2 1
MARLIN
There are inconsistencies within the data.
I study the spreadsheet intently, focusing on the digits manually entered. The scan of the algorithm turned up clear, just as I had predicted, but when I went through the calculations by hand, they did not align with the ones in the spreadsheet.
Someone has been manipulating my numbers.
The thought is amusing as much as it is irritating. To have access to the spreadsheet would mean the person either has hacking abilities far superior to my own, or someone went into the finalized reports and adjusted the output data to better cover their tracks.
Given the sad number of hackers in this town, I think it’s safe to say the second option is the most likely.
“What were you trying to cover up? ”
Musing the thought out loud, I pull up the financial datasets from the last six months. If it was skimming, the net revenue would show a significant decline over the weeks prior, but each month shows a steady and consistent turn over.
I start breaking the columns into raw data until I find the shift. The number of purchases linked to our algorithm and the number of shipments listed on the form are slightly off.
So, it’s not money the person is after. It's the drugs.
But why steal the drugs if you’re going to pay the difference?
“And why get so greedy this time around?”
Pulling out a highlighter, I start marking the columns holding the breadcrumbs to our missing shipments. My phone rings just as I’m reaching the halfway point.
“What do you have for me?”
I put my highlighter down with a sigh, “A sample size of each shipment has been taken since the new year. Cash injections were used to counteract the drop in profit.”
“That rules out your little plaything.” Amusement fills Calista’s voice.
“It has to be a middleman who is pocketing side cash from an unknown source.” Ignoring her taunt, I study the numbers again, “It’s the only way to sustain the replenishment of the funds.”
“Can you get me a list of names?”
“You don’t need a list. It’s Hao Yu.”
A pause, then, “You're certain of this? ”
“He’s the only one who has access to the shipments before the delivery boys pick them up.” Leaning back in my chair, I toy with the cuff of my sleeve, “What we don’t know is where he’s dropping the samples and the name of the person on the receiving end.”
“Hao Yu is going to be a problem.”
“Gus won’t be able to break him.” I pause, weighing my words carefully, “And given the nature of your methods, I am not sure you would get much further. The twins have been trained to withstand any type of physical torture since they were old enough to walk.”
“That’s what you get when Daddy is a terrorist.” She hums thoughtfully, “I suppose you already have a plan on how to get the answers we need?”
“A trip to the pet store is all it would take.”
“There’s my good boy. Always finding a way to break the impenetrable minds of this filthy town.”
I smile, “You say that as if we aren’t included in that description.”
“Oh, Marlin. We are the filth of this town.” She lets out a cackle, “Get it done by the end of the weekend. I want a name and a drop-off location by the time I see you Monday morning.”
“Understood.”
Setting my phone down on the desk, I pick up the highlighter and circle the last shipment that went missing. It’s the only one that doesn’t fit the pattern, the only one that purposefully draws attention to itself .
Greed is a common denominator, as is the need for recognition. So, was the last shipment supposed to be a message or did someone make a mistake?
Either way, there will be no mercy for the perpetrator caught on the end of the guilty line.
Especially once the Dragon comes out to play.
Packing up my things, I leave the college library and head west. It’s in the opposite direction of the Seaborn Mansion, cutting through the overgrown trails until I reach the poor side of town.
A run-down house comes into view, the shingles barely hanging onto the roof while faded paint peels off the exterior. It’s a house that ought to be torn down, partly for aesthetic purposes, but mostly for the safety hazard the wooden structure poses.
I duck under the beam barely holding the front porch together and slot my key in the front door. It’s a spare, one I stole before the residents moved in.
The door no longer squeaks thanks to the lubricant I placed on the hinges, but I still wait ten seconds before stepping inside.
Dodging the floor planks that groan, I make my way past the grand piano and creep up the ancient set of stairs. The interior is not much better than the exterior, the floral fittings a travesty that match the wallpaper perfectly.
I pause at the top of the stairs, listening to the whispers of the house.
Some say spirits reside in abandoned structures, forever haunting the residents who remain, but I’ve always found the spirit lies within the house itself. The walls which have seen unspeakable things, the floorboards who have been walked on by every shoe imaginable, they all come together to form a symphony that echoes the stains of the past.
That is to say, no one holds more secrets than an abandoned home.
Gently twisting the doorknob of the smaller bedroom, I slip inside. A small body rests peacefully beneath the covers, the steady sound of breathing filling the silence of the room.
Walking over to the dresser, I make quick work of the seashells and starfish sitting on top. Each one gets shifted to a new location, the useless ornaments finally serving a purpose.
Hope I didn’t disturb you.
There’s a smile staining my face when I pull open Melody’s underwear drawer. She has quite the collection of lingerie, delicate thongs and erotic G-strings kept in every colour imaginable. I rifle through the drawer, hunting for my favourite pair.
A crude heart made of red lace adds the finishing touch to my message. I step back, admiring from afar, when a quiet murmur echoes from the bed.
“ So many scars. Not enough pictures. Why were there pictures?”
She goes on, whispering questions that lack clarity and context. I wander closer, studying the way her dark hair fans out across the pillow.
“I trust you. Didn’t I say I trust you?”
Her lips move while her eyes remain closed. This is the first time her sleep has been restless enough to initiate sleep talking, something I find strangely disappointing.
The words trail off into heavy breathing but I find myself unable to look away. Her cheeks are flush against the pillowcase, her pale skin tone luminous in the dark room.
I reach out and brush back the hair from her face. Melody doesn’t stir at my touch, so I do it again, softly stroking the skin hidden beneath red strands.
My hand slides down the slope of her neck, where the evidence of our kiss remains. I touch the bite mark gently, caressing the bruise my teeth left behind.
At the time I wanted to brand her. Mark her as my own so Finley wouldn’t get the chance. It was entirely selfish and brilliantly manipulative, but I did not expect to enjoy the kiss quite that much.
Nor did I expect to still feel the urge to claim her after it was all said and done.
“I could take you right now, little saint.” The whispered words fill the room, “I could tie you to the bed and do whatever I want to you. No one would be the wiser.”
I tilt my head, watching the rise and fall of her chest. There is something inexplicably alive about Melody, something that goes beyond the short fuse of her temper.
“One day, I will crawl in beside you. I will be the reason you wake up in the middle of the night, unable to move and unable to feel anything except my tongue between your legs. ”
No response.
Letting out a sigh, I bend down and brush my lips over the mark on her neck.
“Goodnight, little saint. Make sure you dream of me.”
She starts to stir just as I leave her bedroom.
Exiting as quietly as I arrived, I start the long trek back to the oceanfront, opting to walk along the road instead of cutting through the forest.
Wolves howl, crows call and all the while one unusual thought loops through my mind.
I hope this pawn doesn’t break.