#18 in TeenFic
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❝Don't,❞ he pleaded softly, offering her a tiny smile, ❝please don't make me a promise you will never be able to keep.❞ He released a quiet but deep breath, leaning forward even more, tilting his body towards her, until thei...
"I found him," the man said into the phone, once he was back in the familiar space of his office.
"Found whom, Owens?" Frank Crawford's cool voice spoke from the other end of the line. "There's a lot of people on my watchlist."
"Your son," Owens replied, that sense of urgency in his tone. "Your son, Nicholas -- I found him."
First, there was silence. And then, when Frank spoke again, the low dangerous drawl of his voice was unmistakable. "Speak," he ordered. "And don't leave anything out."
And so Owen told the man he worked for everything -- from attending this seminar, to running into that blonde lawyer and coming across the photograph in her phone.
"I can't say I've spent much, if any, time around your second son," Owen added later, "But I have interacted with Michael enough to know a younger version of him when I see it." He paused, and then said, "Unless this is a rare case of two people sharing a very strong resemblance. But, I figured, after looking for your son for so long and coming up short, this is our best lead yet."
"You figured right," Frank murmured, the smooth tone of his sounding a little too relaxed despite the circumstances of the phone conversation. "South Carolina, you said?"
"Yes, Mr Crawford," Owens nodded to nobody in particular, "But I'm afraid I wasn't able to get anything more specific out of the woman about their location."
"I'm sure she has some sort of identificaion with her," Frank mused, "Especially if she's travelled far from home."
"Yes..." Owens let it trail, hesitating for a split second. "But, with all due respect, Mr Crawford, I'm your attorney. I represent you because the law is my forte, and I can be of use in that department of your organisation... However, I doubt I have the necessary skills-set to break into the woman's room and obtain any new information regarding your son's location."
"And I wouldn't ask you to do anything that you won't be able to deliver on, Owens," Frank told him calmly. "Text Gutter the hotel details and anything that'd help him identify the woman. He'll take care of it."
Owen's stomach cramped, a chill running down his spine. He didn't know what Gutter's real name was, and it didn't take much imagination to guess where the title Gutter had come from. The guy was good at what he did, there was no doubt about that -- whether it was making people disappear, sending violent and effective messages to enemy territories, and obtaining information from reluctant people.
