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PROLOGUE: JACK
TEN YEARS AGO
“Wake up, Jack. We’re moving out. Your assignment is done.” My commanding officer barks his orders, jolting me awake.
I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes as the dawn barely lights the cold room around me.
On any other day, I would rise and gather my things, but today is different.
“What do you mean,done? Last night we were waiting on the search warrants. We had the whole family. It’s going down”—I glance at my wristwatch to confirm the early time—“today.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and my feet touch the frigid floor as dread sets in at the expression on my leader’s face.
The events of the last few days replay in my head. His words don’t make sense. I’ve been on the ground with my unit for months, working special ops undercover with federal law enforcement.
Our orders were simple: collect whatever evidence we could find and round up witnesses who were willing to come forward against one of the largest criminal organizations on the West Coast.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that easy.
Matteo Sparr and his organization have been hard to pin down. To innocent eyes, Mr. Sparr and his family are upstanding citizens, hosting charity events for the community and investing in local business. Only those unlucky enough to cross Matteo ever get the chance to see what is under his mask—and once you catch a glimpse, it’s already too late for you.
We have a weak case against him for drug trafficking. Then there’s the prostitution and some more minor offenses, which is where our current operation comes in.
Word on the street is that these charges are only the tip of their illegal iceberg, that it goes deeper into weapons dealings and more, but after a certain point, everything is locked down. There are no snitches higher up the ladder who are willing to talk about what they are really up to, so all we have to go on are misdemeanors. No one has ever been able to nail him on the charges that matter, on the ones that carry serious jail time. Or worse.
We were called in to work with a group of government agencies. Just say the alphabet—they’re all in there somewhere.
With Port Thomas being a smaller city near the Oregon Coast, law enforcement is underfunded. So they called in the feds, who called us. They were thankful for the additional manpower, as long as we didn’t step on too many toes.
The red tape has been ridiculous.
First the sheriff phoned in a request for help, but trusting anyone else on the ground was a nightmare. Determining who was and wasn’t in the Sparr pocket was the toughest task of all.
Things changed when an officer was found shot, execution style, in a ditch just outside of town. Everyone on the force knew who was behind it. It was an unnecessary hit, meant only to send a message and keep everyone else on the force in line, but it backfired. The officer was one of the good guys, just out doing his job. He was highly respected by his peers and only a year away from retirement, leaving a wife and son behind.
No one said a thing publicly. The conversations behind closed doors were an entirely different beast.
One by one, officers filed into the sheriff’s office with what they knew, what they’d heard, and what they saw. It was only a lucky break that the sheriff wasn’t in Matteo’s pocket.
Once we knew the situation better, working our way into the key players became much easier.
Then everything finally snowballed three days ago.
First, one key witness, who works at Sparr Industries, got nervous and came forward with allegations of money laundering. Then a second witness added another piece to the puzzle, and a third came in with solid proof, including files and damning video they’d managed to scrape together without getting caught.
It turns out the decision not to bring the mayor or his office in on the operation was the right choice. The mayor was in deep with the Sparr family, so a meticulously coordinated and highly secret request for all arrest and seizure warrants was processed through different channels.
We had our mission in place for today. Our ducks were in their pretty little row, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“It blew up. Shit went down a few hours ago. Apparently, they knew we were coming. They had someone on the inside after all. The Sparr family is gone. All of the evidence against them is now speculative. Four witnesses are dead. Another two are in the wind.” Then, as he opens his mouth, hesitation fills his eyes, and his body physically braces for a fight.
“Jack.” My commander starts then stops, carefully considering his words with a frustrating pause. “It’s Jessa. Both her and her brother’s bodies are missing.”
“What do you meanmissing?” Then the weight of his words hits me. “Hold up. What do you meanbodies?” Bolting off the bed onto shaky legs, my head spins as my world crumbles piece by piece.
He chose his words carefully.
She isn’t missing.
