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The shorter marshal, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. “We need to speak with you on a matter of urgency, Mr. Blackwater. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”
“Do you know the whereabouts of your uncle?” the taller one asked, and I stepped out from behind the corner.
“My uncle?” Hunter asked.
“Yes, sir. Your uncle, Vincent Blackwater.”
CHAPTER 15
Hunter
This was absolute bullshit.
Every time Vincent’s name came into my life, I was absolutely, unequivocally fucked, and I had to doubt that this time would be any different.
“What about my uncle?” I asked. I honestly kind of didn’t want to know, but I had no choice but to ask. Whatever this was, it amounted to a lot of trouble, the kind that I probably couldn’t buy my way out of.
“Do you know the current whereabouts of your uncle, Mr. Blackwater?” the taller marshal inquired, his eyes searching mine. As far as I knew, my uncle was right where I left him, federal prison. I hadn’t been able to pull in enough favors to get him out yet, but I was working on it.
I’d told him to be patient, that I would get him out eventually.
“I assume he’s still at the Federal Detention Center in SeaTac. Why? What’s happened?” I answered, my voice flat. I raised my eyebrows, searching the officer’s gaze for any hint as to why they were here.
“Your uncle escaped from custody this morning. He knocked out several guards and managed to steal a helicopter that was being used for a routine transfer,” the shorter marshal explained, his voice curt and to the point.
“Fuckkkkkkkkk…” I replied.
I stood there dumbly, trying to figure out if they were lying to me or they’d been paid off somehow, but as they both stood there, I soon realized that this wasn’t a joke.
The taller marshal continued, “It was a well-planned operation, or so we think. He had outside help. We’re investigating the possibility of an inside job along with it. The helicopter was found abandoned near the Olympic National Forest. We have teams searching the area, but so far, there’s no sign of him.”
“I had no idea,” I replied, my voice trailing off in confusion.
“When was the last time you were in contact with Vincent?” the shorter one asked, whipping out a notepad, and I stared at him for a long second.
“Just a few days ago. I visited him in prison,” I answered.
“And did he give any indication that he was planning an escape?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. Our conversation was… pretty strained. We’re not exactly on good terms.”
The marshals exchanged a glance. “Can you elaborate on what was discussed?” the taller one pressed.
“It was brief. I made it clear that if he tried to drag me or my company into his mess, there would be consequences. He didn’t take it well, but he didn’t say anything about an escape plan. It was more of an ultimatum from my end,” I said with a sigh.
The marshals continued to scribble notes. “Did he mention any names or places that could be relevant to our search?” the shorter one asked.
“No, nothing specific,” I replied.
“Has Vincent ever discussed his associates with you? Anyone who might aid him in an escape?” the taller marshal asked, his pen poised over the notepad.
“No, he never mentioned anyone specific to me,” I replied. “Our conversations rarely touched on his… business dealings. He knew I wanted no part of it.”
The taller marshal nodded, jotting down my response. “And in your visit a few days ago, did he seem different in any way? Anxious, agitated, or maybe too calm?”
“Honestly, he seemed resigned, more than anything,” I answered, “There was anger, sure, but it was the same as it always was. Nothing that suggested he was planning something like this.”
The marshals looked at each other, seemingly assessing my responses, and I watched them closely. “If you do think of anything else, anything at all, please give us a call immediately,” the taller one said, handing me his card.
