Chapter 34

Yaroslav

T he visit to Antonio’s was fruitless, the women never made it there and no one remembers seeing Amelia. She wasn’t at the address we have for her, so we’ve hit a dead end. With no other options, I decided to go to the police department to see what they’d discovered.

You might think that a police department is the last place a criminal boss wants to go, but half the cops are on my payroll, happy to turn a blind eye for the right price. The other half don’t know my reputation, those who do and are too lily-white to take a bribe, hate my guts but can’t do a damn thing about it.

As I pull up to the station, I see my brother-in-law Jackson is there, looking wild-eyed and harried. “Yaroslav!” he calls out, rushing over to me, “Do you have any news?”

I shake my head, face grim. “No, nothing yet. I was hoping the police might have something.”

Jackson’s face crumples and I know it’s not the news he was hoping for. “They won’t tell me anything, just that they’re following up all possible lines of inquiry. I knew we should have stayed in England, coming here was a mistake. But she was so determined to try to reconcile things with you.”

I can’t say I blame him for feeling this way, he might not be saying the words, but we both know what he’s saying. That by being back in my life, she’s become a target, someone that can be used against me.

“We’ll find her, I promise.”

He looks at me, his eyes so sorrowful, filled with all the fear and worry I can’t show. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her, how I could possibly go on living. She’s my world.”

His pain is so raw I can’t bear to look at him. Clenching my jaw in grim determination, I nod toward the station. “Let’s get inside and find out what the police know.”

He nods dejectedly, clearly not anticipating much luck, but follows me inside, nonetheless. The precinct is a hive of activity and noise, we’re immediately ushered through to see the chief, causing Jackson to raise his eyebrows in disbelief, but he doesn’t comment. I don’t know how much Marta has told him about the family, so I can’t tell whether or not he’s surprised about the reverential treatment I’m receiving compared to his earlier attempts.

“Yaroslav, good to see you, I wish I could say it was under happier circumstances,” Chief Johnson says, shaking my hand.

Grizzled and gray-haired now, Bill Johnson is still a man who commands respect with quiet authority. Though shorter than me and a little more rounded these days, he still remains fit and healthy. The kind of leader who’s still happy to go out in the field when needed rather than staying hidden away behind a desk.

“Me too,” I reply, “Bill, this is my brother-in-law, Jackson.”

The two men greet, shaking hands. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife, Mr. Brown, rest assured I am personally working the case to ensure she and Miss Walsh are found unharmed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jackson replies, seeming relieved that someone important is on the case.

“Where are we?” I ask, not wanting to waste precious time with idle chit-chat.

“My team has been watching the closest surveillance footage to where the incident occurred and canvassing the nearby area. The owner of Dina’s Diner a couple of miles away reports seeing Miss Walsh and a young man earlier in the day. She couldn’t say for certain, but she believed it could have been Miss Walsh’s brother as he referred to her as ‘Sis’. The owner reported that their breakfast ended abruptly with the man leaving shortly before a distressed and distracted Miss Walsh left on foot. As of yet, we’ve been unable to locate him for questioning,” Bill explains.

So, Kim’s waste-of-space brother could have some involvement with this. If Sharkozi got hold of him, I’ve no doubt that he’d sell out his sister for the right price. Probably not a high one either.

“We’re working under the assumption that Miss Walsh walked for a short time before getting picked up by Mrs. Brown. The two of them then returned to the diner where they remained for a couple of hours talking before leaving together,” he continues. “Now, here comes the interesting part. The owner reports that she witnessed three blacked-out SUVs traveling in convoy in the direction the women left in not long after they left. Unusual, but not too noteworthy in and of itself, except that she then swears that she saw the same three vehicles going back the other direction not long after. Since there’s nothing between Dina’s and the next town, it was unusual due to the window of time—no more than twenty, or thirty minutes max according to our witness. It was such a short window that they would have more or less turned back on themselves not long after reaching town.”

“Or they never went to town at all. They intercepted the women and turned right back around,” I say.

“Exactly,” he replies with a nod. “The witness didn’t get any license plate numbers, but there are CCTV cameras further up the road that capture the vehicles described heading east. We’re in the process of trying to track their movements now.”

“I imagine they’ll switch vehicles at some point to evade that,” I reply, knowing that’s what I’d do.

He nods in agreement, “We’ll keep doing everything we can. The vehicles have tinted windows, so there’s no way of knowing how many people we’re dealing with here.”

“Thanks, Bill, I’ll let you get back to it,” I say shaking his hand.

Jackson, who’s been quiet and seemingly relieved to allow me to take charge now pipes up, “Wait, that’s it? Aren’t the first twelve hours after a kidnapping the most vital to finding the victims alive? We need to do more!” he exclaims, agonized.

“Trust me, Mr. Brown, we’re doing everything we can to find your wife,” Bill replies calmly.

“I’ll see you soon, Chief,” I say before turning on my heel and marching out of the office.

I have a hunch based on the direction they went in where Sharkozi might be taking them. It can’t be a coincidence that they’re heading toward Charleston where my shipment is meant to be arriving. I also know that of all of Sharkozi’s properties in this area, there are only a few in that direction.

As I stride out of the building, Jackson is hot on my heels. “Where are you going?”

“To find Marta and Kim.”

“Wait, do you know something the police don’t? Why didn’t you tell them?” Jackson asks, his tone hopeful, yet confused.

“Because they won’t approve of my methods of rescuing and I’m not about to put Kim and Marta’s lives at risk because of red tape. The police can’t mobilize their men as fast as I can, nor will they use force unless they feel they have no other option which will cause delay,” I state, climbing in my car and slamming the door.

“Okay, where are we going?” Jackson asks, walking around to the passenger side door.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” I reply, locking the door.

Jackson bangs on the window, and I open it a crack, “I want to help, I can’t stand hanging around waiting. I don’t care if it’s dangerous, this is my wife we’re talking about!”

“While I admire your willingness to risk your life for Marta, there’s no way I’m bringing an inexperienced civilian with me. You could put them at further risk if I have to worry about protecting you too. You’re no good to Marta dead. Besides, it’s just a hunch and the police could find them first. Stay here, my sister would never forgive me if I let you come and you got hurt,” I reply.

I don’t wait for his inevitable argument back, I hit the gas and drive out of the parking lot, tires screeching. Time is running out. Jackson is right, the first day is vital to find Marta and Kim unharmed. I don’t want to waste another minute. Trusting my gut has got me this far in life, I’m not about to doubt it now.

If I’m wrong, Kim and Marta could pay the ultimate price.