Jacob
“Our target is David Wheeler.”
Except, he’s supposed to be dead.
“The only heir to his father’s multinational shipping corporation—which he promptly sold upon the man’s death for billions—made him a rich man. He pretended to be some kind of philanthropist with a focus on charities benefiting children and teenagers, but it was a front for his more nefarious activities.”
One of his so-called charitable endeavors was Transition House; a group home for disenfranchised youth in Lanark, Kentucky. In reality the home had been a cover for a child exploitation ring.
It was supposed to be a safe haven for kids, but instead turned out to be a place for rich and influential pedophiles to carry out their depraved fantasies without repercussion.
“I don’t need to tell you there wasn’t—or isn’t—a benevolent bone in that bastard’s body.”
David Wheeler had turned sexual deviancy into an industry, and cruelty into an art.
Two decades ago, Transition House burned to the ground, cause unknown. Three people responsible for the goings-on at the home were reported to have perished in the fire. However, as we recently discovered, at least two of the three survived: Josh Kendrick, the program supervisor, and Dr. Elsbeth Sladky, the home’s director. Since then, justice has caught up with both of them, but that leaves David Wheeler still unaccounted for.
“I think, like Kendrick and Sladky, Wheeler survived the fire. And I believe he is still very active.”
“I think we all suspect as much,” Pearl points out. “But we don’t have much more than suspicions and theories, and it looks like the lead you have Onyx chasing is going to be more of a long-term assignment. In the meantime, who knows how many kids are going to fall prey to this guy. Why not put the rest of us to work as well? We all have a vested stake in bringing him down.”
The we she refers to are the rest of my GEM team, who are gathered in the office.
Opal, the alias I gave Kate Jones, is a marksman and weapons specialist, and has the ability to disappear into the woodwork, making her the perfect undercover operator.
Her husband, Mitch Kenny, is a former federal agent who worked as part of the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment—or CARD—team. He is the newest addition to GEM.
Then there is Pearl, or Janey Fisher, who ran her own cybersecurity company before joining GEM as our IT expert. She also has impressive martial arts skills that can come in handy.
Lee Remington technically isn’t on the payroll, but works with GEM on a consultancy basis. The freelance journalist—and new life partner of Pearl—is a very savvy investigator with personal reasons to delve into anything and anyone associated with Transition House.
And finally, there’s Onyx, whose real name is Rajani Agarwal, but her teammates call her Raj for short. With a master’s in psychology she worked as a child victim advocate and taught self-defense classes before I convinced her to work for GEM. Onyx brings balance and empathy to the team. She is our case strategist, communications expert, and provides aftercare for the children we manage to rescue.
“I don’t doubt everyone is eager to find him and see justice done, but I’m concerned if we all start rattling cages, we’ll just alert him. The man had two decades to build himself a new identity, it’s gonna take time to track him down.”
I look out my office window and watch the dark rain clouds roll in over the Appalachian Mountains. Ever since the deadly flooding last year, people in this region get a little nervous when there’s rain in the forecast, but I quite enjoy it. There’s something soothing in the steady drum of drops hitting the metal roof panels.
“Why don’t I give everyone a bit of an update first?” Onyx’s rich, melodic sound has a calming effect. “We can talk about how to go forward after.”
“Go ahead.”
I get comfortable, leaning back in my chair and putting my feet up on the windowsill.
“As you know, we’ve been trying to track down a horse,” she starts.
I close my eyes and let her voice wash over me.
She briefly recaps the discovery of two missing children on a ranch near Bowling Green not that long ago, and the lead we got as a result.
It was the name of one of the horses stabled at the property that piqued my interest; Pure Delight. The fact it matched the name used for an auction offering underage sex slaves to the highest bidder—one we’d just managed to shut down—could hardly be a coincidence.
I’ve since been able to trace ownership of the horse to an investment company by the name of Pegasus GLAN. From there it was easy to link the investment company to none other than GLAN Industries. A name by now very familiar to me.
Unfortunately, by the time I was able to make the connections, the horse had been removed from the stable and transported to places unknown. All I have is yet another company name on paper, and although my gut says David Wheeler is behind all of them, I have nothing tangible.
“…trust this Hamish Adrian?”
I’m drawn from my thoughts when I hear Mitch mention his name.
“I vouched for him,” I interject, even though the question was likely meant for Onyx. “I’d trust him with my life.”
“Good enough for me,” Mitch returns.
“Apparently, the racing community doesn’t trust newcomers—so far I’ve been persona non grata—and I’m hoping Hamish can help with that,” Onyx explains. “I need to establish my cover, have at least some credibility, before I start asking questions about Pure Delight, its trainer, or its owners.”
I look out on the mountains, listening to the disembodied voices, when I see the window reflects movement behind me. I swivel my chair around and my hand goes to the mute button.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I have to leave if I’m to make my book club meeting. I left your dinner in the oven.”
I grin at her. “Thanks, Bernie. See you tomorrow.”
Bernice Nelson—my lifesaver—the woman who has had my back for the past fifteen years.
When she’s gone, I unmute the phone and just catch Opal asking, “…need from us?”
“Jacob?” she prompts.
“We need to find a property with stables to fit Onyx’s cover story. A suitable house, staff quarters, and preferably with an exercise track.” I was up last night trying to figure out how best to ensure I can keep Onyx safe. “I’m going to need you to handle that as Ms. Baqri’s personal assistant, Opal. Mitch will be acting as her driver.”
“Surely that’s not necessary,” Onyx protests.
“Oh, I think it is, for credibility. I don’t want there to be any doubt about who you portray to be. If you want to be taken seriously you’ll need quality horses. Maybe you can buy a couple at that auction Hamish mentioned.”
“A couple? Are you nuts? Do you have any idea what kind of money we’re talking about? Top quality thoroughbreds start at a few hundred thousand and go up from there,” she sputters.
“I’m aware. I consider it an investment, and who knows, we may have a winner on our hands.”
“You’re insane.”
Perhaps I am, but this is what I’ve worked for nearly half my life, and I’m not going to risk him getting away.
“Or maybe I’m thorough,” I counter. “I want David Wheeler—or whatever name he’s using—stopped, and I don’t care how much time or money it takes.”
I hang up before anyone can respond.
Let them chew on that. They should know how dead serious I am.
Onyx
The silence lingered long after Jacob ended the call.
Janey was the first to break it.
“For all our sakes, I hope we’re not chasing a ghost.”
Her words have been haunting me all night.
I can’t say I’ve never wondered what is driving Jacob Branch. As worthy and—dare I say—heroic his intentions for GEM have been, I think I’ve always known there is something inherently personal at the root of his crusade.
There have been times I’ve probed, trying to get him to open up, but he’s been a master at evading. Yet his comments last night, and the way he spit out Wheeler’s name, spoke volumes.
What’s been keeping me up is whether it was Jacob himself, or someone he cared for who fell victim to Wheeler. I don’t have any illusions the man limited his depraved activities to the kids at Transition House, but I still wonder if Jacob may have been one of them.
Every boy I ever met at the home passes through my mind. Most of them I didn’t even know by name, and even if I did, it wouldn’t tell me much. I have no idea who Jacob is. I don’t know his real name, what he looks like, or how old he is.
I snort. Heck, I don’t even know what he sounds like, he’s always used some kind of distortion to mask his voice.
Giving up on sleep, I swing my feet out of bed and head for the kitchen. I could do with a hit of coffee. It takes only a minute for my Nespresso to brew some, and I take my mug and my cell phone out on my balcony to catch the sunrise.
Checking my email, I see five different ones from Kate, all links to real estate listings. Wow, she didn’t waste any time.
I’ve only just clicked on the first link when my phone rings.
It’s Kate. I put her on speakerphone.
“Morning.”
“Did you look at them?”
Kate sounds way too chipper this time of the morning.
“I’m just looking at the first one. What are you doing calling me this early?”
“I figured you were up when I saw you open the email. Anyway, check out the last listing. The one near Four Oaks.”
I pull up the final email and click on the link.
“Where is Four Oaks?”
“About thirty miles east of Williamstown. Only forty minutes or so from my place.”
Just then the listing pops up on my phone, and my eyes get stuck on the price tag of two point one million.
“Are you crazy?”
“Just look at the pictures,” Kate urges. “It’s gorgeous.”
I shake my head, but I scroll down to appease her.
She’s not lying, the place is beautiful.
The large ranch house looks new, or at least newly renovated. There’s a second, smaller building that looks like a guesthouse. A good-sized pool separates the two. On the overhead image I see a barn with a riding ring on the opposite side of the long driveway.
An impressive stone gate is partially hidden by a grove of trees blocking the view from the road. Fenced pastures are visible on either side of the property, and at the rear is what looks like an exercise track. Beyond it looks like nothing but woodland.
It fits Jacob’s specifications, but that price tag is staring at me.
Among the many things I don’t know about Jacob Branch is the depth of his resources. I’m sure they’re not infinite.
“It looks fantastic, but that’s a lot of money,” I tell Kate.
“I’ll call the realtor this morning,” she offers. “See if there is any wiggle room.”
I can’t help but grin at her persistence.
“Maybe you should check with Jacob first.”
“He’ll leave it up to you. You know he will.”
Probably, but I’m not about to spend millions of his money without his approval.
“Still…” I insist.
“Fine, but get ready, as soon as we get the go-ahead, we’re heading to Four Oaks.”
She’ll have to get hold of Jacob and the realtor first. There’s no rush.
“I’ll see you at the office later, Kate.”
“Remember to wear something that screams money.”
After breakfast and a shower, I’m standing in front of my meager closet, looking for something suitable. It’s slim pickings. I’m going to have to buy a few things that fit my cover.
The only thing I can see that comes close to designer is the black leather, knock-off Chanel backpack an ex-lover tried to pawn off to me as real. I’d tossed it to the back of my closet, but it may come in handy now.
I’m going for casual chic.
Old, torn jeans, a white dress shirt and a pair of wedges, my hair loose and makeup heavy, and that fake Chanel backpack slung over my shoulder.
It doesn’t exactly scream money, but it’ll have to do.
My ancient Subaru Outback definitely isn’t in character but when I pull into the parking lot at the office, I see it’s already been taken care of.
A grinning Mitch, dressed in all black, is standing beside a shiny black Lincoln Navigator parked in front of the entrance.
“That’s what you’re wearing?”
Kate appears by her husband’s side. She’s wearing a pale blue, fitted pantsuit, and her red hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot. She’s looking at me disapprovingly over the rim of a pair of purple glasses she doesn’t need. The whole look reminds me a little of Penelope in Criminal Minds.
“Evidently,” I point out.
“Well, it’s too late to do anything about that now,” she grumbles. “We need to hustle; the real estate agent has another potential buyer coming at noon.”
“Did you talk to Jacob?” I check with Kate as Mitch opens the Navigator’s rear door for me.
She rolls her eyes.
“Yes… He wants me to do a live-video feed of the property tour.”
It’s clear she’s not happy with it.
“Can’t expect the man to drop two mil sight unseen, Kate,” Mitch points out.
She darts me a sharp look when she climbs in behind me.
I wisely keep my mouth shut.