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“He was an abusive fuck who used her as a punching bag, among other things I don’t care to repeat. I won’t let her go down for this. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get her out of this mess.”
“That’s what worries me.” Dean stops his pacing, standing right in front of me. “I know more than anyone that there is nothing you wouldn’t do for that girl. But that knowledge scares the shit out of me. I don’t like worrying about you, Josh. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Well, more stupid than usual.”
“You know I can’t promise that.”
“Well, let me help. Who is this detective after her?” he asks. His eyes scrunch before adding, “Wait… if she killed her husband, why isn’t there a nationwide manhunt for her? There wouldn’t be just one cop looking for her.”
“You don’t think I’ve thought of that? The fucker was a cop, Dean. There’s no way her face wouldn’t be plastered on every news channel if they were looking for her. No, this detective wants something else. I just need to figure out what.”
“Her husband was a cop? Someone’s gotta be covering this shit up, but why?”
I shrug. Fuck if I know. “Either he’s not dead, and she didn’t actually kill him, which I hope is the case because I’d love to get my hands on the bastard. Or there’s a chance it’s got something to do with Emily’s trust that disappeared without a goddamn trace three years ago.”
“What trust?” Dean knows she didn’t come from money.
“The five million dollar trust I set up in her name. Someone withdrew it from her account the day she turned twenty-two. The day after a fake death certificate was lodged.”
“So, Emily Livingston is legally dead? Then why the fuck is a cop looking for a dead girl?”
“Because it was that same cop who identified the body for the death certificate. He doesn’t want Emily; he wants something from her. And I’m going to figure out what it is, exactly.”
“We will figure it out. You’re not going off alone on this, Joshua. I want to be kept in the loop on all your plans. Come on, let’s head downstairs before Ella burns our kitchen down.”
“I’ll meet you there. I gotta make a call.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I never do.” I smirk.
I wait for Dean to leave the room before I pull my phone out and dial Sam. He picks up on the second ring.
“I’m gonna need a pay raise, boss, or a Christmas bonus in the form of this car,” he yells over the sound of the engine.
“I swear to God I will fucking shoot you if you hurt my car, Sam. Now tell me you have something for me,” I grunt out.
“I thought you’d never ask. But since you asked so nicely, I’ll share what I’ve found. I’ll remind you I missed sleep last night for this.”
“Sam, get to it.”
“Okay, don’t get your knickers in a twist. So, I was able to trace the IP address. The cameras were feeding to a docking warehouse in Botany. The fucker’s been getting in and out of the apartment by the fire escape door. He’s managed to rewire the passcode. I’ve since fixed it; he won’t be getting back in through that door. CCTV caught a glimpse of him entering the building. It’s that lovely detective friend of yours.”
“We won’t be coming back to the apartment. I won’t put Emily at risk like that. Text me the address of the docking warehouse.”
“Will do, but it’s going to be like finding a needle in a haystack there, mate. It’s a shipping container dock. I was able to trace the IP back to that particular dock, but finding where it is within that warehouse is anyone’s guess.”
“I don’t care if I have to burn that whole fucking place down to draw the fucker out. Get me the address.”
“Okay, will do.”
“And, Sam?” I wait for him to answer.
“Yeah?”
“I mean it about my fucking car, not a fucking scratch.” Hanging up the phone, I head for the kitchen to find Emily.
