Page 5 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

“ I don’t think I ever told you how he was screaming your name when he died.”

The words echoed through Haven’s cavernous dining hall, bouncing around the space. Shifting in his chair, Rowan focused on the laptop before him, remaining hidden from the monster taunting Benjamin Fairweather through a screen.

“He screamed for you to save him,” Tobias Miller continued, amused by the lack of a reaction from his audience. “Begged for you to save him.”

Rowan had to give Ben credit. The man was holding it together in a way he wasn’t so sure he himself could do. The residual rage left over from the attack on Haven two weeks earlier continued to linger, and the McIntyre in him wanted swift retribution.

An eye for an eye and all that.

The women in white had made it into the house. Not many, but enough. Most died on the lawn, writhing in pain once overcome by the manchineel toxins. Sinclair had sent them on a suicide mission, and the women had complied without a second thought.

But the ones who made it inside Haven—two women with hunting knives—had every intention of killing them. Rowan firmly believed that. No matter what theories were floating around. No matter what Liam and his father thought. He refused to accept that this was merely a scare tactic .

“He called out for my mom, too.” Toby shifted on his prison chair, folding his bound hands together as he lowered his gaze to the transport jail’s table.

Going quiet for a moment, he sighed wistfully, a sadistic killer reliving his father’s murder in real time.

“And Livy. Charlie wanted his little girl with him when he died. Hell, I think he even screamed for his ex-wife.”

“Answer the question, Toby.” Ben’s jaw ticked as his patience reached its end. “What’s your connection to Michael Sinclair?”

Flanked on either side of Ben was a Cohen. Father and son were observing and ready to leap in should something go awry. Klausen and another agent were also there, standing just enough in frame for Toby to see them.

Fighting a grin, Toby’s savage gaze rolled up again.

He was still handsome, even with the permanent scar left by Samuel five years ago.

Rowan heard the women who followed him were obsessed with it and that some of the men in Zanmi had gone so far as to recreate the look, giving themselves a jagged slice over their left eye.

“Mike is family.”

Rowan sat at the dining room table across from the group, watching the play-by-play on his laptop while they talked to Toby on another. Simone and Jamison were with him, leaning in to see the screen.

“Why did he send those women to Haven House?” The question came from Liam, his tone impassive and with zero inflection. “Was it to kill your real family?”

“How are you, Agent Cohen?” Toby did smile then, aiming his notorious charm at the prison’s laptop camera. “Made an honest woman out of my cousin yet?”

A quick glance to his left showed Rowan that Jamison was reacting as expected. Poised and ready to leap across the table and through the screen to kill Tobias Miller with her own bare hands.

There was a pause. A flicker in Liam’s dark eyes, and then, “Yes, I have.”

None of them acknowledged the lie. Prepped and ready, they were testing one of Dr. Cohen’s theories, and it was holding up.

“Ah, well, too bad I couldn’t attend the wedding.”

Klausen pushed his glasses further up his nose, his impatience showing. “Mr. Miller, I would suggest you ans—”

“Dr. Miller,” Toby snapped, his pleasant demeanor morphing into annoyance. “I have nothing to say to you, Agent Klausen. I was told this visit would be with my family. My last one with them before you hide me away for good.”

Dr. Cohen nodded slightly at Klausen and the other agent. “That’s our cue, gentlemen.”

Rising from the table, the two Cohens moved out of the laptop camera’s range, taking the FBI agents with them. The four men came around to where Rowan was sitting to continue watching on one of the many monitors.

“Are you sure?” Liam mouthed to Jamison as he took a seat.

Determined as ever, Jamison rose from her chair. Extracting a diamond wedding ring from his pocket, he slid it onto her finger.

“Happily married,” he whispered, not letting her hand go even once the ring was secured. “You know the rest?”

Jamison nodded, and with her chin held high, she went to sit with her father. Toby’s reaction was instant, and a booming laugh of astonishment rang out, carrying all the way up to the dining room’s vaulted ceilings.

“I ask this every time I see her, but how do you handle it, Ben?” Toby peered into his screen to get a better look at Jamison. The chains locking him to the table clanked, metal against metal rolling as he tried to get closer. “She looks so much like Laura Jean.”

“Why does Sinclair want me?” Jamison asked, ignoring the comment about her mother. “What kind of bullshit insanity are you trying to pull?”

Toby's smile wavered as if he were confused. “You?”

“Babies,” she hissed, color filling her face. “You want them to have Fairweather babies?”

Toby gave no outward reaction, only smirking in that eerie way of his. It reminded Rowan of Ben. Tobias Miller might not have the same dark features as Ben and Samuel, but that innate arrogance that lived in every Fairweather positively oozed from him.

“Did you know they come here all the time?” Jamison continued, well aware that Toby did. “They want a piece of you. They think we kept mementos of your life, and they’re always disappointed when they find out we didn’t. ”

Toby let out an annoyed huff. “Where’s Evie? I said I’d do this, but only if she participated.”

“You haven’t answered our questions,” Ben replied, remaining calm. “How do you know Michael Sinclair?”

“I told you.”

“How is he involved with Zanmi?”

“He’s not,” Toby scoffed, this time appearing genuinely confused. “And why do you keep asking about Mike?”

The silence that followed Toby’s question was deafening. He didn’t know. Toby didn’t know Michael Sinclair had taken over Zanmi.

Dr. Cohen was the first to recover and gestured for Ben to keep going.

“Why did you send those women?” Ben pressed. “Why did you tell them to kill us?”

Rowan zoomed in on Toby’s face as something clicked in the good doctor’s brain. “What’s happening here?” Toby’s eyes shifted back and forth between Ben and Jamison. “What women?”

Liam pointed at Jamison, and she stood, her turn in front of the camera over.

It was time to send in the big guns.

Rising from the dining room chair, Simone placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder as she passed. The wounds from her attack were healing nicely, but some bruising remained, just enough to be seen on the camera.

Once Jamison was off screen, Simone came around Ben and took the vacant seat. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and Rowan marveled at how an honest-to-God serial killer could squirm under the weight of this woman’s stare.

The longer the silence stretched, the more Tobias Miller looked like he might cry. “Hello.”

“Hello, boy.”

“You never came to the trial.”

“No, I did not.”

Curiosity flared in Toby’s eyes. “Why?”

“Because the man on that stand wasn’t my Toby.”

And with that, the monster returned. Hungry and desperate to inflict pain. “You’re right. That Toby is dead. You killed him.”

“And you killed CeCe.” Folding her hands in front of her on the table, Simone stared straight at Toby. “So, I guess that means we’re even. ”

“Do you ever feel guilty?” Toby smirked. “Have you ever once thought that if you hadn’t thrown us away like garbage, none of this would have happened?”

“Every day,” Ben answered without hesitation. “Is that what you needed to hear?”

“I think so.” Toby released a long, trembling exhale. “Yes.”

“Tell us why, Toby.” Simone’s tone changed, coming off as if she were scolding a child who had misbehaved. “Why did you send those women to the house to hurt us?”

“If they came to the house, they wouldn’t have hurt you.” Toby grinned, the evil darkness fading. “Like Jamison said, they wanted to find pieces of my life. They miss me and—”

“Look at me,” Simone hissed, her demand shutting Toby right the hell up. She pulled the laptop closer, giving him a clear view of her facial bruising. “They beat me. They beat Annabeth. They tried to kidnap Jamison.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Toby paled, his bewilderment growing. He glanced back at the guards standing stoically behind him. “What the hell happened?”

“Why don’t you ask what they did to Evie?” Simone continued. “Why don’t you ask what those women did to her and her little girls? Ask what they did when they broke into their home with machetes. Did you know they wanted to cut the baby she was carrying out of her? Did you tell them to do it?”

Just as they had practiced, Simone’s voice rose with every question, higher and higher, until she sounded hysterical.

“Evie!” Toby tried to stand but didn’t get far, thanks to the restraints. “Let me see you, Evie!”

They waited, allowing him to scream himself into a frenzy. The guards had been warned not to interfere, and the four men appeared to be upholding their end of the deal.

“She’s not here,” Ben said, watching impassively while Toby thrashed like a maniac in his chair. “You will never see Evie again. She’s gone, Toby.”

Something broke inside Tobias Miller. His screams splintered into wails and incoherent pleas.

If it were any other man, Rowan would have said they were witnessing someone’s soul shattering, but being that it was Toby, it was indescribable.

There was no soul to shatter, no heart to break.

The person raging on the other side of the camera was barely human, and comparing his response to that of a normal person wasn’t possible.

“She suffered,” Simone said, pretending to battle tears. “Evie suffered just like you wanted.”

“No!” Toby screamed, heaving rough drags of air into his lungs. “She fucking promised not to hurt her.”

The entire room went still.

She.

She promised not to hurt her.