Page 122 of Diamonds in the Mud

“Owen and the guys just left,” Mom added.

“Tell me,” I said, putting the food down on the table in front of Dad. “Tell me everything.”

While we ate, my dad filled us in on what Owen had found at Jackson Pennington’s residence. Jameson was right, Sharon Taylor hadn’t been his first human victim.

“There were more than a hundred images of five other young women, most likely runaways, who had fallen victim to him. The images were found on a private computer in a locked room inside his house. All of the images had been taken in the cabin.”

I shivered at this. The same cabin he’d taken me to. I would have, no doubt, been his next victim if not for Jameson’s timely phone call and the fact that I’d had a gun on me. Jackson had probably been in a lot pain and had wanted to go for help, so he’d decided to burn the entire place down instead of his usual MO.

“They will start excavating around the cabin after the cadaver dogs arrive in the morning,” my dad added. “There were emails from Sharon Taylor to Jackson from a private email address where she accused him of the crimes the attorney general was accusing her of. She threatened that once she found the proof, she would turn it all in.”

“So he killed her. Sufficiently shutting the case down,” Jameson said.

“What about the brothers?” I asked.

My dad shrugged. “We haven’t tied them to Jackson yet. We have, however, tied him to several large drug rings dating as far back as ten years. He bounced around in LA for a while, then Vegas.”

“That’s what brought me here,” Jameson said. “I followed his trail here,” he said to the room.

“We are now officially under the assumption that Jackson was the head of the Reapers, correct?” I asked.

My dad nodded slowly. “There is a ton of proof that he organized everything. From the get-go, Jackson was the founder of the Reapers, as far as the drug empire went. The property out on the bayou, the Nest as you called it, was paid for with cash. The same amount of cash was removed from that bank account number you found, Rayne, at the same time. Lisa, at the bank, was one of Jackson’s victims. Shortly after you left the bank, she made a call to Jackson and told him about your little visit.”

I shivered at this news. I doubt I’d ever be able to look the woman in the eyes again.

“The encrypted files on Quincy’s computers were full of data he was compiling. From what we can tell, he was trying to stockpile enough proof to make a move on the man himself, even though he was a victim and deep in the business himself. I believed he was trying to get out. Before…” Jameson sighed.

“Jackson knew how to point all the blame on others,” my dad said.

“Yes, and he would have reason to clear the brothers off his competition list. They attacked me and made a very public spectacle of murder. I’m wagering Jackson hadn’t approved of that, and he would have felt it his right to remove them as obstacles,” Jameson said, getting everyone’s attention. “One thing about living and working with the Reapers for over a year, I understand the code they lived by. No killing. At least not by us.” He closed his eyes. “We were to pick up and drop off only. Drugs. Money. Guns. Sometimes all at the same time.”

“From where?” I asked.

Jameson’s eyes moved to mine. “Several places. Some in other counties.” He tilted his head. “The old man and the young boy. There’s one more loose end I have to check on.” He snapped his fingers, then pulled out his cell phone and stepped out of the room.

“What happens now?” I asked my dad as Mom cleared up the fast-food mess.

“Now, I retire,” he said. “This moves my timeline up a little.” He motioned to his leg as I took his hand. “Think you can convince your fiancé to step in for me?”

I smiled. With all the horrors that had happened in the past hours, I’d almost forgotten the good thing. I looked down at my finger. At the ring I’d dreamed of for years. The man I’d wished for had slid it onto my finger at one of my favorite places.

“Yeah, I think my fiancé will be happy to step up,” I said, just before Jameson came back inside.

“Rayne.” Jameson’s tone had my smile dropping. He walked over and took my hands in his. “I…” He glanced at my parents.

“What it is?” my mother asked.

“I don’t know how to say this but, during my time with the Reapers, one of our drop-off points was deep in the bayou. There was this man.” He shook his head. “I thought he was old. Ancient. There was this little kid with him that would run around and do his bidding. During the bust, the kid was put into the foster care system. His DNA was taken to see if there were any living relatives because the old man died of a heart attack shortly after we took him into custody.”

“It’s standard procedure in the county now,” my mother added. “We were firm advocates of the law passing.” She reached over and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Because of Rayne.”

“They found a match. A sister,” Jameson said, and I felt my heart stop. “You.”

My hearing and vision temporarily ceased.

“He’s eight years old, severely malnourished, lacking any education, and completely alone.”

“We’ll take him,” my parents said at the same time.