28. Jamison

Wet strands of hair clung to Jamison's face as she glared at the closed media room door. Simone stood with her, wrinkling her nose at one of the Hollingsdale cops walking past a window by the front door.

"I can't get any information either, then these new cops showed up two seconds before y'all did," Simone huffed. "And where the hell is Annabeth?"

"At the bookshop with Rowan. He knew the store would be the best place for them to take shelter."

"I'm glad I was wrong about him."

Cocking an eyebrow, Jamison's head slowly turned. "Did you just admit that you were wrong about something?"

Simone blinked a few times, just as surprised. "I guess I did."

Rubbing her back in a soothing motion, Jamison smiled. "Well, I hope you like him because when I texted Annabeth, she sent back this." She waved her phone in Simone's face. "I think they're going to be a hot minute or two."

"What is that? Oh, hell. Is that an eggplant?" Simone grabbed the phone to squint at the text. "Why does it always have to be food?"

"I know. She could have at least sent a dick pic."

Simone threw her hands up in exasperation. "I am done. Tell my daughter not to stay out late. If it comes from me, I'll be accused of nagging." She gripped Jamison by the chin, leveling her with a look. "I am going to bed, but if you find out something, you come tell me."

With Simone gone, and the likelihood of Liam allowing her into the media room being zero, she placed an ear against the door. Izzy was speaking, her voice much higher than the men's, but no less authoritative. It sounded as if she were relaying information.

"Can you make it to your room?" Abe rolled up, startling her. "Or do I need to get my mom?"

"I'm fine." She went to the stairs and worked her way onto the first step to prove it. "They locked you out?"

"Nah, I'm just supposed to keep an eye on you."

"No need." With the dress practically ruined anyway, she trudged up the stairs, not bothering to be careful. "I'm going to bed."

It turned out that the dress wasn't only ruined, but the zipper had become jammed, and once in her room, she thought about grabbing a pair of scissors to cut herself out.

Liam came in without knocking, watching her as she struggled. "Need help?"

The hint of amusement on his face was a good sign. He'd been so quiet since they left Firewater.

"A little."

Coming up from behind, he swept her hair aside. "It's a shame it's ruined." The zipper slid down at a snail's pace. "You look beautiful in it."

When he reached the bottom, he didn't move, the warm brush of his knuckles stroking along her spine. She didn't want him to stop and stood perfectly still. "You said you didn't like it."

"I don't always tell the truth. I guess that's just one more thing we have in common." His hands slid inside the dress to hold her waist. "Your skin is like ice. Take a shower while I sweep the room for listening devices."

Jamison stiffened. "I thought you already found them all."

"That's the funny thing. They keep reappearing. We take one out, and more pop up." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Hurry, so we can talk."

Desperate for information, she took the fastest shower of her life and rushed back into the room wrapped only in a towel. Liam sat waiting on the corner chair, his stoic expression dousing her excitement. Closed off and dissociated, with his emotions on lockdown, he scanned her as if she were someone being brought in for an interrogation.

And that just wasn't going to work for her.

The towel hit the floor.

Walking across the room naked, she went to the dresser and bent at the waist to reach a lower drawer. Always accurate in her aim, she left her ass hanging in the air until she found something to wear. A near transparent nightie. Yep, that should knock him out of his head.

Straightening, she pulled the sheer babydoll dress on while he watched. "Do you remember that time in New Orleans?" he asked.

She shrugged and sat on the bed. They had been to New Orleans at least a dozen or so times. "Which trip?"

"The first one." He was smiling, her nightie working its magic. "When you were hungover, and I dropped the towel and showed my ass."

"How could I forget?"

Not only had his ass been memorable, but so had the day. They left that hotel room and tumbled into a dizzying nightmare that had yet to end.

"Well, you just paid me back."

"Long time coming, I guess."

That was when she noticed her laptop was missing. A quick check around the room told her the phones were also gone. "Did you find anything?"

He stood from the chair and stretched. "Not in here, but I went ahead and put your electronics across the hall in Evie's old room."

Something else she noticed, his duffle bag was back in the corner again. "Are you staying in here?"

"I'm taking a shower." In one fluid motion, he yanked his shirt over his head. The pants were next until he was left only in his boxers. "And I'm not talking to you while you're practically naked. My brain can only handle so much. Change into something more comfortable, and we'll get started once I'm done."

She tried to speak, but the words got caught somewhere between his newly defined abs and the perfectly shaped V at his waist.

"My eyes are up here, Jamison."

"Like I care about your eyes right now." She was off the bed and following him to the bathroom. He'd always been in shape, but sweet Mary, mother of God. "What is all this?"

"No touching," he warned when she tried to trail her fingers over his chest. "It's not a big deal. I had free time, so I did some extra stuff at the gym that Samuel suggested."

"You got some extra stuff by doing the extra stuff." She pouted when he tried to close the bathroom door in her face. "Can I come in and watch you clean the extra stuff?"

That earned her a small smile. It wasn't much, but she would take it.

"Change your clothes," he ordered, and the door snapped shut.

"Change your clothes," Jamison grumbled to herself. "You keep your clothes off, and I'll change mine."

But if she wanted answers, she would have to behave. When Liam came out, she was patiently waiting on the bed, dressed in his T-shirt and sweatpants.

He dropped the towel, proving that payback was indeed the greatest of bitches. "Stop wearing my clothes. I'm running out."

"You could just not wear any." Jamison patted the spot next to her on the bed as he rummaged through the duffle bag and pulled on some gym shorts. "I promise not to touch."

His dark eyes met hers. "Stay on your side."

"You're no fun anymore." She rolled to lie on her back while he crawled up the mattress to join her. "Has he been watching me?"

"I told you I was going to rip his eyeballs out."

She guessed that meant yes. "All the time?"

"It's not just you." Exhausted and close to passing out asleep, he sighed as they stared up at the ceiling. "But you're the one he continues to harass. Emily and Claudia haven't been contacted since."

"And why is that?"

"Figuring it out." He turned his head to look at her. "Are you ready? Top to bottom?"

Top to bottom. The way they worked through his cases together, listing each part in a sequence from top to bottom. It helped clear his mind and gave her more insight into what he was working on.

"Let's do this," she replied. "But if you're going to filter the information to be only the stuff you want me to know—"

"I'll tell you everything that is a fact, and what I've learned from the feds."

Her brows shot up. Feds? His disassociation was hitting big time.

"But I don't know how to start," he murmured to himself. "These threads go back so far."

He was nervous. She could hear it in his voice. A telling tremor catching a word every so often. You didn't spend almost every day of your life with another person and not learn these small things about them. With Liam, everything was always done with purpose. The beginning, middle, and end mapped out in his head. If something was going on that made him afraid, they were in real trouble.

"Jan and Eddie disappeared. Hollingsdale PD lost them. I'm sorry I let him get that close to you."

"So, he was military?"

"And served two tours with Michael Sinclair."

"Jan." She sat up, ready to run to the rescue. "He's with Jan and could hurt her."

"Klausen called while you and I were separated at the party. They've identified the dead woman."

"Ugly Denise?"

"Denise Brookman."

"Is she ex-military?"

"No, she's not." He tugged her hand, pulling her down to lie next to him. "But she is an employee of Fairweather Holdings."

Someone could have thrown a bucket of ice water on her then, and she wouldn't have even registered it.

"Easy." Liam laid a hand on her shoulder so she wouldn't explode. "It gets worse."

"How could it get worse?"

"Denise Brookman was hired three months ago to work in the Public Relations department of the North Florida Fairweather offices."

Jamison gasped and bolted upright again. "That means Jan hired her!"

"I figured as much."

Sitting up with her, Liam crossed his legs, and she did the same, the two of them sitting face to face. "One of the Zanmi members the cops nabbed the other night is an ex-Port Michaelson detective. The guy visits the station regularly, and half his buddies were assigned as guards here."

"Is that why you're using Hollingsdale now?"

"Yeah, and we're shifting gears on company personnel, too. Only those I've vetted will watch over Emily and Claudia. That leaves me here with Izzy and one or two Hollingsdale PD. The rest I'm sending to Samuel's place. Then there's Selah I have to figure out, and Samuel wants Josie to have protection."

"Liam."

"I know. I know." He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, the exhaustion stripping down his walls. "Klausen and his team should be here soon, but I don't know when. He's sending other agents over tomorrow afternoon, but I don't know if I can trust them. My dad says he'll be here in about seventy-two hours, but I don't know if the person he's counting on to get me what I need will come through."

"Liam." She pulled his hands from his face. "Top to bottom."

He dropped onto the mattress, dragging her with him. They settled on their pillows, the silence stretching as they both mentally pulled out the information stored in their brains regarding Zanmi.

"Toby kills Charlie on their sailboat and leaves for medical school eleven months later."

"But where does CeCe go?" she asked, knowing her part in this back and forth. "The sailboat sat parked for years with no one touching it, yet she stayed on the island and finished high school. How did she live without touching Charlie's money?"

"And when she does need money for nursing school in Miami, Toby gets it from Trevor, who doesn't access Charlie's account but furnishes the funds himself."

Jamison snickered. "Trevor has always wanted to play the hero."

She might be making light of the situation, but she had often wondered what would have happened if Toby had contacted her father directly. Would he and CeCe have been welcomed home with open arms? Would they have unknowingly allowed a mass murderer into their lives?

Without a doubt, the answer was yes. They were a messy family, but a family nonetheless, and with the guilt her father held, Toby and CeCe would have been given whatever they wanted.

"Let's not focus on CeCe," Liam said. "She's not the solution here."

CeCe was always a dead end. There were hardly any records of her existence before she arrived in St. Louis. Even the time she spent in college was a fuzzy haze of misinformation. "So, Toby goes to medical school in Grenada."

"Where he gets introduced to Marcus Etienne," Liam continued. "The two of them become close. Marcus introduces Toby to some light edge play, and Toby develops a fondness for knives. By the end of the first semester, there are four total med students in their group, all into various forms of BDSM, but nothing too nefarious."

Liam had memorized every report—every detail of the case—not wanting any point to be missed.

"Except when Toby gets involved with a local island girl, and she loses an eye. Marcus and the other four come to Toby's defense. The authorities believe them because they're med students," she said, having memorized all the details right along with him. "The behavior escalates, and Toby doesn't stop terrorizing women in the area because now he's proven no one can stop him. The other three join in, and things quickly go from sexy good times with willing partners to some pretty sick shit."

"I'm still pissed we haven't been able to nail the others with something."

"At least Etienne is dead," she pointed out. "And you've tried with the others, Liam. It's not your fault."

His finger stroked the back of her hand resting next to his, and she reminded herself to stay focused. "Toby comes to Miami with his college buddies."

"Marcus, Richard Henderson, and Eugene Gilbert."

An active file on the three doctors had been kept in their apartment, and Liam would update it once a month with the trio's current whereabouts and dealings. When he moved out, he had taken it with him.

"They intern with Toby at the same hospital, and those first couple of months is when he brings CeCe up from St. Thomas to live with him and start college."

"We think CeCe lived with Toby only because that's what it says in her college transcripts," she said. "But it doesn't matter because their friend group is growing larger, and Toby's behavior becomes erratic again. He starts pushing boundaries like in Grenada."

"Etienne claimed that it wasn't a big deal. Meanwhile, Henderson and Gilbert look the other way because this is just Toby. He's not doing anything they don't want to do or haven't done themselves without getting caught."

Thinking of all the people hurt by these men made Jamison sick. Some victims had come forward through the years. Women. Men. Relatives of missing people who were last seen associating with the group during their time in Lauderdale.

"And when Toby really starts to slip, it's not just the four of them any longer. They've gained some traction. New friends to play with. Toby puts that pathological narcissism to use and convinces the group what he's doing is natural."

Jamison let out a huff of disgust. "Yeah, because mutilating people is totally normal."

"Still, they're into it, but when someone questions him, he plays off their fears of being discovered and then gives promises of protection," Liam said. "Mix in some warped interpretation of Eastern philosophy and boom..."

She waved a hand in the air. "Zanmi is born."

The name had come from Marcus. Zanmi meant friend in Etienne's native language. A friend who was like a brother or sister. They weren't sure if the group utilized it before Toby's arrest, but Marcus had used it to describe their relationship and the name stuck, attaching itself to anyone who believed Toby to be innocent.

"And with CeCe's help, the first set of girls die."

"I still don't believe she was the only one who helped Toby," Jamison argued.

Simone, Annabeth, Evie… none of them believed it either. With Bernie's blessing, Will had come out of retirement to aid in the case, and he agreed to an extent. "Cecilia Miller might not have taken part in the killings, but she would have known what was happening. Toby can mask what he is to the public, but he probably couldn't with her. It's why he continues to mourn her. He treated the others as if they were family, but he didn't trust them. The monster and the man trusted CeCe and loved her unconditionally."

Friendship and finding your family were the foundations of Zanmi, and its appeal gathered all sorts. Regular people who found themselves searching for something in life, and holding on to the belief that these good-looking, capable doctors were going to make things better, in addition to bringing their warped sexual fantasies to life.

The information gathered about the group during those early years was enough to creep out even her. Mutilations. Limb removal. Snuff films. Too much for a normal human to comprehend.

"But then CeCe moves to Missouri, and Toby stays in Miami. He's really into it now, learning the type of person to persuade into their flock. Introverts with poor home lives, young homeless people, those with egos as enormous as his, but without the charisma or planning skills to gain power." She shifted to her side, needing to face him. "Bruised, not broken, right?"

"The best kind of person for what he needs." He turned with her, a smile on his lips as he imitated his dad's voice. "People who have been beaten down in life but continue to have hope that things will get better. The hope is their downfall. Toby knows how to use it as a weapon. He takes it and gives them a purpose along with a belief system. After that, they're easily molded into almost a disciple-like state, creating people who will live and die by their new safety net."

The smile on his face faded. "I mean, it's common with his type to gather different people from different backgrounds so he can create a false sense of diversity, but where did he learn it? From what your dad says, Charlie wasn't really like that."

"It's ingrained in him." She scooted closer, seeing if he would pull away. "Coded in our DNA like a bad hereditary disease. Fairweathers are… I don't want to say manipulators, but—"

"Oh, really?"

His sarcasm had her pinching his chest. "Helping people turn to our way of thinking is easier for us."

"No shit," he scoffed. "You change the way you talk, the way you hold yourself, and even the way you listen and respond when you're working someone over."

"I'm not that bad."

"You once said the word pop instead of soda to an investor from Michigan and adapted the man's accent while replying to his questions. I was scared."

She grinned at how disturbed he seemed by it. "Well, I'm kind of a scary woman."

"So, true. And let's not get started on your dad."

No, they didn't need to go there. Her father never had to put much effort into persuading people to listen. They were naturally drawn to him, obeying without argument.

"But what Toby does is just so much more," Liam went on. "He seems to be able to lock on to a person's fears and dreams within minutes of meeting them."

"I guess that's how he convinced a bunch of his people to move here when he did."

"You know, he returned around the same time as Samuel."

She thought for a minute, trying to remember the details. "Yeah, maybe? It was like a couple of months' difference, and you've always said it was a weird coincidence."

"I'm beginning to find too many weird coincidences."

"Like what?"

"You know that mile marker where they found Claudia?"

"Yeah, it was in the middle of nowhere."

"And in the same county where one of the original four grew up. Eugene Gilbert."

"You're kidding."

He propped his head on his hand, and she did the same. "The area where Claudia was dumped is nothing but rural farmland except for a small house. It's the only structure for miles. Klausen had agents investigate the place, and they found it empty, but after digging around, they discovered that the homeowner is deceased. His name was Stanley Wickham, and the guy died of a heart attack about eighteen months ago. The house was left to his daughter."

"Did Klausen's people talk to her?"

"Everything on her checks out. The house and the thousands of acres surrounding it have been in their family for generations. She said once her father retired, he returned to fix the place up, even though she had hoped he would have remained in the area he'd been living in for the last two plus decades. According to the daughter, the man loved his job and the area. She didn't know why he would want to leave."

"Where did he live?"

"Fort Lauderdale."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "And where did he work, Liam?"

"Fairweather Holdings."

"Shut the fuck up!" She shot to her feet, standing on the bed. "Tell me you're lying."

"Stanley Wickam worked in the Lauderdale acquisitions department for Fairweather Holdings as far back as the mid-nineties when your father opened the branch."

"And then we have Jan, who has worked for Fairweather since… well, I don't know." She flapped her hands around, unable to articulate what she wanted to say. "But she was part of the team Samuel brought with him from the Lauderdale office."

"Transferred here, along with dozens more, who all applied to work on the Firewater project."

Hopping off the bed, she paced while Liam remained in his spot. This was their way. Her in constant motion, and him the solid base. "Klausen is questioning Gilbert?"

"Twice already."

"And nothing is popping?"

"Not a damn thing."

"When did he question him?" she asked but didn't give him a chance to answer. "What about Henderson?"

"Henderson is dead."

She halted, her mouth hanging open. "When did that happen?"

"The night of the kidnappings. Klausen had agents from the Atlanta field office pay him a visit, and they found him dead. Another heart attack."

"A heart attack? I call bullshit."

"Absolutely."

"Toby is in prison. Etienne is dead. Henderson is dead. Gilbert is the only one of the original four left." She returned to sit on the bed. "Zanmi operates publicly, claiming they're an organization that frees innocent men, but out of the major backers, Gilbert has never been overly vocal. He can't be. His fertility practice in Miami is in too high of a demand. If patients figured out his connection to Zanmi, he could lose big time. Do you really think he's going to take over?"

"He gives big money to the cause but makes every attempt to conceal his involvement. Yet this whole creating a perfect family narrative Klausen claims Zanmi is discussing… it would make sense to have a well-respected fertility doctor like Gilbert at the helm. But Eugene Gilbert is also a far cry from charismatic. I can't believe people who are hung up on Toby will follow him."

"They'll follow Michael." Ideas and theories banged around in her head. Zanmi had a weird obsession with Toby and her family as a whole but could be swayed by someone like Michael Sinclair. "He's handsome, smart, and to some, a hero."

Liam's jaw clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek pulsing ominously. "Sinclair's involvement could be boiled down to him pursuing Zanmi because he's found an easy flock to take over."

"But why would he need Zanmi when he has his own group?"

"Klausen's sweeps have netted close to a hundred people. Men, mostly. None with military records or a connection to Sinclair." The ticking muscle in his cheek picked up its pace. "And there's so much evidence. All of it laid out nice and neat. Crimes that have nothing to do with Zanmi but are giving Klausen enough to hold these people on federal charges."

"Michael is cleaning house."

Liam's dark gaze narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"If the charges have nothing to do with Zanmi, then what are they for?"

"Mainly drug or child pornography related. Dad went digging and said there were some with embezzling charges. One or two with warrants already in place."

She smiled, the truth dawning on him as he spoke. He would have seen it earlier if he weren't so tired.

Liam flopped back on the bed, angry at himself. "All the things that make them not trustworthy."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you can't build a perfect family with a group of bad apples. Cleaning them out will draw new members and give existing ones more security to stay. A man with a background like Michael's would know this and also know that people such as the ones Klausen is catching are not suggestible enough."

"Which would make sense why it's mostly men and not women." He laid his arm across his eyes. "Men seek sanctuary under Zanmi. They want to be like Toby, but the women just want to be with Toby. I mean, look at how many proposals he's had since entering prison."

Jamison knew of around thirty women who had publicly claimed to want to marry Toby. One even showed up at Fairweather's Houston offices, demanding to have a meeting with her father. The woman kept calling him Uncle Ben and eventually had to be escorted off the premises.

"Which means Michael has convinced these women that he has direct orders from Toby."

The rise and fall of Liam's chest stilled as if he were holding his breath. "None of this explains how or why Sinclair is involved. Klausen might be a half-assed agent, but he's ethical, and I believe him when he says that Sinclair has never shown up on his radar until he appeared here at Haven House."

"What does your dad say?"

Liam removed his arm, and the distance between them returned in a blink, opening like an infinite chasm. "You don't want me to answer that."

"Yes, I do."

"Dad thinks you're lying, or you've met him and can't remember." Getting off the bed, he swiped a shirt from the duffle bag, and put it on. "Thanks to the mindfuck games Sinclair is playing, I now know you're hiding something. And if you're lying about him, you're putting not only yourself at risk, but Evie at risk as well."

"I am not hiding anything about Michael." Sick to her stomach, she rolled to sit on the side of the bed. "And it wouldn't be my fault if I can't remember."

Liam swiped a hand through his damp hair. "I need to get to work. Rowan will be back in a minute."

"But you haven't told me everything."

"No, I haven't," he said plainly.

It all clicked into place. The quiet room. The two of them alone, acting like the partners they once were. How ridiculous of her to actually think she had been making headway with him.

"You were trying to pull a reaction. That's why you're telling me all this. It's because you wanted to see if I would give anything away."

"Obviously."

And the knife twisted deeper. "Fuck you."

That was all she had. A fuck you was as good as she could do. He'd succeeded in knocking her off balance. The good cop/bad cop routine had been a ten out of ten this time around, and she was left empty without a snarky reply to throw at him.

"Oh, I plan to." He came over to stand in front of her. "But let me be clear on something. I have very little control, and when I do get a hold of you," snatching her by the chin, he forced her to meet his devastatingly bitter gaze, "I'm going to use your body to purge this anger and fuck it out of me and into you. I'm going to fill you with it until you understand the hell you've put me through. The hell you are continuing to put me through."

"I'm not doing anything." She jerked her chin free. "And I can take whatever you've got."

"Just tell me." His frustration had him shouting. "There's never been secrets between us. That kind of bullshit behavior belongs to the Fairweathers, but not to us."

"I am a Fairweather."

Early in their relationship she learned never to underestimate William Cohen. To everyone else he was a man who thought before he acted. Calm every second of the day.

But not always.

Sometimes, he could be pushed too far.

Being without him for so long had dulled her senses, and she gasped as she was flung back on the bed, her wrists pinned to the mattress.

"The second you left this place, and we started our life together, you became more mine than theirs," he snarled, the pain she recognized all too well burning in his eyes. "You're my whole world, Jamison, and yet, I'm worth nothing to you."

She shook her head violently. "Not true."

"Yes, it is." Dropping his forehead, he rested it against hers. "If you felt even a fraction of the love I have for you, we would have been married last weekend, and you wouldn't be hiding whatever it is you're hiding."

"Every chance you get, you're telling me not to let Michael get into my head," she told him, keeping her voice surprisingly calm. "I think you need to take your own advice."

He shoved off her and headed for the door.

"Liam."

Stopping as if that unseen thread that bound them together had been tugged, he waited. Hand on the doorknob, he waited for her to speak. To tell him anything. Anything that would make this all come to an end.

She wanted to do it.

She would do it.

But not now.

It wasn't the right time.

Bile rose in her throat, tangling with the things that needed to be said, yet she swallowed it down. "Are you sleeping in here tonight?"

He took an eternity to answer, and as she waited, Knightly slinked out of his hiding spot under the bed to rub along Liam's ankles. "You need to rest. We have an early morning tomorrow with Evie's ultrasound appointment."

And with that, he was gone.