Page 135 of Oddly Fine

“Okay—” Beckett said hesitantly. “So, there’s a condemned basement in a factory where they make windows and doors—” he said, hoping to get the ball rolling. “What am I missing?”

Hayes took a step closer to the computer screen, eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied the condemned section of the blueprints.

“Your uncle is an eccentric millionaire,” Hayes said, thinking aloud to help him organize all the key points and understand precisely how those facts were connected.

There was something on Hayes’ mind, something that he needed to work through. Beckett was confident he would succeed because he’d seen his central processing unit of a boyfriend work his magic before and it was amazing to watch him action.

“He buys priceless artifacts linked to the occult and has them shipped in the same containers as trashed doors and windows? But then—he doesn’t let them share a truck. He custom builds an armored vehicle to keep them safe while transporting them. Yet, they end up in the same place. Am I crazy or does that make no sense?”

“We don’t know that the coffins ever went inside the factory,” Matthew pointed out, though he didn’t sound nearly as argumentative as he had when the discussion first started.

“No—but what if their contents did—what if that’s why the truck was unlocked? Because it was empty.”

Beckett could see the glimmer of excitement in Hayes’ eyes getting brighter, but he didn’t understand why, or what had caused it.

“What d’you mean empty? The truck was full.” Beckett was stumped.

“With coffins—yeah. But what if the coffins are just shipping containers. What if they’re a distraction—something an eccentric millionaire can safely and confidently, with no fear of reprisal, write on a shipping label. What if it’s the contents that he’s guarding in those armored trucks.”

“The contents?” Matthew asked wonderingly, like he was slowly coming around to understanding Hayes’ point of view.

“You thought he was interested in human trafficking for the money, but did he ever actually say that?” Hayes asked, whirling towards Matthew so suddenly he took a step back.

“Well, no—but—”

“And you figured that the girl who died escaped from where they were keeping her and that was the appeal of working with your uncle—he could house them in different places. But what if it’s not housing them that’s difficult, but transporting them is?”

“H, I’m not following—” Beckett said, trying to get him to slow down so he could see the big picture.

“I need to talk to Franklin,” Hayes said, voice sharp and commanding. He was vibrating with intensity. Beckett couldn’t recall ever seeing him like that.

“What are you thinking?” Beckett asked, because while he thought he understood what Hayes was getting at—all of this seemed extremely bizarre, even for them.

“Not until I speak with your brother—I want—” he swallowed, and Beckett saw his hands bunch into tight fists like he did when he needed to keep them from visibly shaking. “I need all of you to hear my entire theory at the same time—and then you can tell me I’m crazy if I’m wrong.”

Beckett automatically reached for Hayes’ right hand to reassure him.

Hayes looked relieved and gratified for Beckett’s support as they laced their fingers together.

“Alright,” Beckett agreed. “Let’s go piss off some US Marshals then.”

They didn’t call ahead. They drove straight to Franklin’s safehouse and parked three streets down. Then—they fucking walked right up to the bungalow protected by the US Marshals. Beckett rapped his knuckles sharply against the front door twice and called out, “Trick or treat! Let me see my brother or I’ll moon the security camera.”

Within a matter of seconds, they were flanked by two US Marshals with guns drawn and pointed at their heads.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the same badass agent from the other night snarled—the Green Beret. He was royally pissed to have three idiots standing on the safehouse’s porch in the middle of the night.

“We know—but we just miss him soooo much,” Beckett whined, further irritating the US Marshal.

“Ten minutes,” Hayes said. “That’s all we need. After that we’ll leave.”

“And why would I give you that?” he asked, sounding genuinely baffled that Hayes would ever expect him to agree in this lifetime.

“Because he must be driving you absolutely crazy by now—and ten minutes might be enough to get us the proof the FBI needs to release him—and thus, allow you to go home,” Hayes said.

Asshole Green Beret paused for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between Beckett and Hayes, weighing the merits of their comments. He looked at Matthew, frowning the entire time, and Hayes prepared himself to argue the necessity of his presence. Finally, the Marshal sighed and reluctantly lowered his weapon.

“We’ll have to burn this place anyway,” he said, because well, yeah—Hayes could see the need for that since they’d had brought a civilian with them to their ultra-secret safehouse.