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Chapter Thirty-Nine
Three months later
The day has come.The day everyone has been working toward since I carried Lilly out of that house. The sun is slowly coming up, and the outlines of the buildings around the original Altman Hotel in Los Angeles are morphing into actual structures—we never closed the blinds last night.
I yawn and peer down at Lilly's naked body sprawled over my chest. Her hair is fanned around her face and down her back. Scanning every inch visible above the massive down comforter, I swipe away a strand that fell over her eyes. I haven't been able to get any shuteye in days. The last two, I've been solely surviving on the constant stream of caffeine Wes has provided for me.
Every time I close my eyes, I relive that day. See the blood. Hear her screams. And today, nine months after the fateful homework assignment, everything comes to a close.
Wes and Denielle, together with my parents and Natty, came a few days ago. Lilly and I never left Los Angeles.
We finished the school year on the West Coast. Lilly refused to set foot into Westbridge High again, and I wouldn't leave her side.
There had been yelling, tears on Lilly’s and Mom’s sides, scowling from Dad, but in the end, we’re eighteen. Mom and Dad agreed to let us stay under the condition we finish our coursework online—not that they could've forced us back east anyway. But I preferred the amicable resolution over another family shit show.
No fucking clue how Mom pulled everything off with the school, but she did. After what happened to Lilly in the locker room, they probably would've said yes if we had asked for our diplomas without finishing the year.
Lilly and I moved into the Hamlin mansion permanently, and George stayed at the house with us because Turner, aka Gray, being on the loose had everyone still on edge. Mom, Dad, and Natty flew in every two weeks for a check-in—the perks of suddenly having a private jet at our disposal.
Every timemy mind wanders to those few days after Denielle's phone call, it's still a miracle to me how Nate found Lilly. Despite his injury, he worked himself into the ground. The only time he slept was that night in the office, and he had literally passed out from exhaustion.
Because of Nate, I can hold Lilly in my arms today, which is one of the reasons my preconceived psycho-kidnapper opinion changed. He's still a criminal, but that's just one of his many sides—most of them are actually pretty tolerable. He also handed me the keys to the R8 a few weeks ago. What idiot would say no to that?
While I was passed out in Lilly's bedroom that night—or day—Nate had dissected Hank's personal life down to the color of his dishtowels. When the bank accounts showed nothing out of the ordinary, Nate started digging. Deep.
Hank's credit history listed several joint and active cards linked to his mother. The same Mrs. Todd who had been in an assisted living home for over a decade and had not used a debit or credit card for just as long. Nate shifted his focus to her, and after finding several domestic accounts through various banks all over the country, he tracked down an offshore account with a considerable, multi-figure balance. Money Hank did not earn with his job for the Altman Hotels, nor his mother, who was the primary account holder.
Whoever helped set all this up knew their shit, and if it were anyone but Nate, we probably would've never found Lilly in time.
He followed the deposits to Mrs. Todd's offshore account back to one containing a sum that was suspiciously close to one Brooks had paid Emily over the years. Said account was with a bank in South America, not too far from where Nate ran into a roadblock when tracing his father's transfers. He had lost the trail when the entire amount was withdrawn on the receiving end, and the account was closed.
The amount was obviously not exactly the same anymore, but close enough. The living expenses in that region were not very high, and one could afford a decent lifestyle from the interest alone and accumulate more.
Don't ask me how he did all this. I probably don't want to—or shouldn’t—know.
This also solidified our suspicion that Hank worked for Emily Sumner.
Nate then convinced one of the tellers at the financial institution to identify the account's owner who was supplying Hank with the funds. The helpful employee received a check that will support her family for years to come and immediately picked Lilly's biological mother out of the stack of pictures Nate emailed to her.
To not just provide her one option, he attached pictures of my parents, the Kellers, and Mr. and Mrs. Sheats—none of whom the lady obviously recognized.
And with that, we had the proof. Turner kidnapped Lilly. Hank provided Turner with the vehicle for the abduction. Hank received money from Emily Sumner, Lilly's mother. Emily and Turner were linked.
Mrs. Todd’s credit history also listed a brand-new lease for a bungalow on the Pacific Ocean. With Hank’s passport still not back on U.S. soil—again, not asking so I don’t have to plead the fifth if it ever comes down to it—George and Dad agreed that the house was most likely where Turner took Lilly.
All of this developed while I was sleeping on the third floor. Initially, I was pissed that no one woke me up, but it was probably better in the end. I wouldn't have been much help with my impatient nature. I can admit that now.
While the two were talking strategy, Nate pulled up the CCTV around the location. Between Turner breaking into the Hamlin estate and how long it would've taken him to get to the beach house, taking into account that he switched cars at least once, Nate narrowed down a time window. He recruited Denielle and Wes to watch the feeds with him, and Denielle was the one who spotted another dark SUV on the camera closest to the beach property.
The license plate to this one was not covered, and with some more information seeking, Nate soon had a close-up security camera picture of Francis Turner renting the car, though the name on the agreement was Ronald Turner, Francis's brother who had not been seen in—have a guess—almost twelve years.
My recollection gets interruptedas Lilly begins to stir, and I look down. Her eyes are moving rapidly under her lids. The nightmares are another outcome of everything she went through. She admitted that it's always the same but won’t elaborate on the details. I suspect it has something to do with Emily, but what? No clue. I pull her close and wrap both arms around her body. She stills instantly, which makes warmth spread through me.
I watch her steady breathing for several minutes, counting each inhale and exhale. Something I've come to do after preventing a nightmare from fully taking hold. It calms me enough to usually go back to sleep myself—not today, though. My thoughts carry me back to that day.
After they finally woke me up,George had been on the phone with his team while Dad and Nate went over more details of the property. The ins and outs, closest neighbor, and whatnot. Watching my father in action was new to me. He had talked about his job before, but seeing him focus on a mission was as impressive as it was intimidating.
"When are we leaving?" I asked as George got off the phone.
