The first thing I registered was how cold it was being by the sea. It took me a few wrong turns but I finally found this building after twenty minutes of driving along a narrow road where the tree branches and bushes hit against my side mirrors. To anyone else, it would seem this place hadn't been occupied in about fifty years but I knew better. I knew that money had been pouring into this place from the richer people of New York City.
—I just didn't know why.
The front doors had been nailed shut from the outside so I decided to look around for a side door or at least for a crowbar. People left those things lying around, right?
Instead, I walked further along the building towards the side in hopes I'd find a side door or something. But no such luck. The entire place was boarded up.
What did I really expect? That the building would be open and someone would be here to acknowledge me?
I was way too naive.
Frustrated, I exhaled loudly before turning around to head back to my rental car... when a thought struck me.
—tyre iron. There has to be a tyre iron in the trunk. I could use that, right?
I was determined for this to work. So I grabbed it from the trunk and walked up to one of the smaller doors and tried my best to pry them off. Trust me, it wasn't easy but I managed to get a few off where I could bend under and fit through the open space they tried to cover up.
Inside was dark and grungy—not to mention smelly. I had to cover my nose with my hand while trying to navigate through the dark with only a few streams of light coming in from the cracks and streaks in the ceiling. I could hear the water softly splashing against the side of the building as I ventured further inside. So far it was a big open space with a few doors to the far right; possibly leading to somewhere else.
I skipped over a few water puddles towards one of the doors only to realize it was locked when I tried the handle. I jiggled it a little bit harder; hoping that because the place was old, the door would be a bit easier to break open.
—but no such luck.
I tired the next door and it was the same result. Maybe I didn't think this through...
Maybe I should come back with proper tools. Or maybe I should just try to kick it in. It always looked so easy in movies, right?
I stepped back and braced myself for a minute before lifting my foot and kicking it near the handle. It didn't budge the first time so I tried again... and again... and again... before it finally popped open.
I cheered out loud at my accomplishment. The door swung open and I stepped inside right after it. The room wasn't as dark as the rest of the place so immediately I saw that it was an office. A desk sat in the middle of the room with a chair. On the walls were old, dusty pictures of older men—none of whom I recognized.
I tried the drawer handles in hopes that something important was left in them. All of them were locked except for one drawer at the bottom left. Inside had some old files documenting old transactions back when the company was in operation. Most of the data was numbers; nothing of which I understood... but I did understand names.
The company used to receive shipments from another company abroad called Rico's Furnishing. Almost every week there would be a shipment coming in and only from Rico's.
—but the dates... the dates of these shipments went as far back as 1934.
Holy shit. What the hell is going on here?
I used the sleeve of my dress shirt to remove my finger prints before placing it back into the drawer. I did the same with the drawer handle and then with the door handle as I left the room. Nothing could be done about my footprints in the dust so I only hope that no one will notice—if there was anyone here.
I picked up the tyre iron on the way out and swiftly walked to my car against the cold winds. I contemplated whether or not I should get in touch with Kai about this new information but I literally lied to him not too long ago about staying out of it.
No, this research I had to do myself.
After getting back to the city, I returned the car and caught a cab to the nearest Internet cafe.
—yes they still have those, can you believe?
I prayed to God that no one recognized me—or would recognize me if someone came by asking. Sitting around the computer, I used a private browser to search for Alistair's company first only to see nothing come up. Then I decided to search for Rico's Furnishing.
I clearly wasn't at Kai's level when it came to private investigation but I hoped taking the extra step to reduce my internet footprint would work.
Not many stories came up but one was enough. It was a blog post with the headline: The Truth about the Rico Fiasco.
The blog was dated back to 2005 as a review of the original article that was removed from the New York Times archives. Rico's furnishing was a furniture shop in Mexico City that was rumored to be a front for illegal booze back in the 20s and 30s but no evidence was found. Only the locals hear-says.
However, in 1972, the shop was raided by police to find an underground cellar filled with booze and cocaine. The company was closed down and his assets frozen but Rico was good at covering his trail. It took the FBI years before figuring out his allies and connections.
—a big connection being Alistair's Express Shipping Company. They received shipments from Rico frequently with furniture containing illegal booze back in the 30s and then cocaine once the 60s started. They were one of the biggest pushers in New York City back in the day.
The owner of Alistair's company was charged for multiple connections to possession of illegal contraband, organized crimes and murder in 1990. He killed himself before he could be imprisoned, leaving the company to rot.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
Before I could click off the computer, the site crashed and the blog post was no longer available. I tried to search for Rico's again and this time... nothing came up. Nothing.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood and I knew, I just knew this wasn't coincidental. I immediately closed every thing on the screen and ran out of the place. Someone knew I was searching for it. Someone was watching.
Or maybe someone, after all these years, had an alert set for specific keywords when searching... someone who desperately wanted to cover up this story.
The first thing that came to mind was that I had to see my father. I was going to demand answers this time.
______________________
He was awake when I visited him. He was awake and watching TV when I entered the room. A nurse was by his side, feeding him God knows what.
"Can I have a moment alone with my father, please?" I asked her with a smile.
She nodded before setting down the food and exiting. I was super paranoid after coming from the Internet cafe so I picked up the food on his tray and dumped it into the toilet then flushed it.
"What the hell are you doin', Brynne? That was my dinner. Lord knows I ain't getting anything better to eat in this place," he angrily yelled at me.
I locked the room door and closed the blinds before turning around to him with an angry look on my face. I rarely get angry... ever. And he saw that because his anger dissipated once mine came to surface.
"I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer. Is that clear?"
"What's this about?"
"Alistair's Express Shipping Company, explain,"
"Brynne... what are you talkin' about?"
"Explain," I gritted out.
He was a little speechless before looking around the room then exhaling. "This is bigger than you think—"
"I swear to God I will break your other arm if you don't start talking right now,"
"Jesus Christ, who are you? Fine, fine, I'll talk but before I do... you need to stop doing whatever it is you're doing. If you're digging for answers, Brynne... you won't like them," he tried to warn me. Tried to sway me.
"There are seven known dead victims tied to this place. You would have been number eight. Now, I might be number eight. So yeah, I need some answers," I folded my arms and waited for him to speak.
In a lower voice, he began, "Alistair started that company in 1924 with a few other of his friends. When they started out, no money was coming in because the economy was going to shit back then but then the business started to blossom, shipments were coming in and numbers were off the charts for years. Years, Brynne.
"Until one day the feds came down hard. Alistair had given the company to his son back in the 70s before he died and his son, Alistair jr., was busted in the late 80s. We were all included in it. My father had started out with his father and then passed it down to us. We continued the business until we were busted but they didn't want us... the FBI had wanted Alistair jr. because of his other ties... so we sold him out. We took the plea bargain and they convicted him. A few days later he killed himself."
"You sent him to jail..." I whispered before taking a seat.
"We all did. There was a board of us. Yes, we were also involved in the drug trafficking but we were offered immunity. I told you the answer would be ugly, Brynne..."
"Oh my God," I exhaled. "No wonder we're being targeted. Someone knew what you guys did and they want revenge..."
"How do you know that?"
"There's a list, dad. A list of shareholders... a hit list. This person wants us all dead... but not before they get all our shares. I understand now... it's only right that it's payment for what you did. I get the why... all that's left is the who,"
"Alistair jr. was rumored to have a son but when the feds came, he was nowhere to be found."
I shook my head in defeat. There was so much to this story... and I was going even deeper than I had wanted.
"Why are you guys still investing money into the business?"
"None of us expected him to commit suicide, so we all agreed that we'd keep it on the stock market so that his wife could benefit after his death... but she died a few years after and we just decided amongst ourselves to keep investing out of respect," he hung his head in shame. "After all, that money funded most of the companies still standing in New York today,"
"Including ours," I scoffed. "I can't believe this,"
"Brynne..."
"So you were willing to give me the company and not tell me all of this?" I felt my anger rising. "You would have left me in the dark while someone out there is trying to kill us off?"
"Everything I did in my life was to protect you. Keeping you from the truth was to protect you," he tried to stress to me. "I would have never put you in a situation if I knew you'd be in danger and you fucking know that. So don't dish that victimizing bullshit to me."
"Victimizing bullshit?" I stood.
"Yes, your mother did that to me all the fucking time to get her way or to make it seem like I was the bad guy. She'd tell people I forced her into marriage... I trapped her with a baby she didn't even want... I didn't value her as wife... I chose work over our marriage ."
"Wow, dad. Wow. Thank you for reminding me that I was a mistake."
"There you go again! You're not listening to me! She may not have wanted you but I did and I'll own that. I'll own that I was selfish in that situation. I wanted you. I chose you over our marriage and I will never be sorry for that,"
That one definitely shut me up.
Was I really just like my mother?
"So she really didn't want me?" I mumbled out as my eyes burned from the tears welling up.
"Ah, shit," he sighed, "Brynne..."
"You're right. I'm just like her..." I moved closer to his bed and held his hand. "I'm sorry, dad. I'm so sorry,"
"Brynne, you are nothing like her," he squeezed my hand. "And even if you were, I'd still love you with everything in me."
"Just like you still love her?"
He exhaled. "They say you never fall in love the same way twice. Your mother made me feel young again. We loved each other the way teenagers would... now with Vivian... she makes me feel alive. She makes me happy," he smiled.
There was nothing I could contribute to what he said. I've never been in love.
_____________________
Pulling up to my house, I see Kai sitting on my stoop waiting for me. It frustrates me that he can't just call me with answers but I had to understand. There were players higher than us in this game.
"Isn't this a little too out in the open for you?" I tried to joke with him.
"Sometimes I take my chances," he shrugged before standing. "I've found who you asked for but I don't think you'll like the answer,"
I chuckled. "I've heard that today already and it can't be worse than what I was told so go ahead."
"After you," he gestured towards my front door and I let us both in before closing it.
We settled by the breakfast counter and I offered him a drink. Whiskey to be exact.
"So what do you have for me?"
He took a sip before replying. "Well I'll start with Micah as I'm sure you're worrying about him the most. He's actually in Las Vegas... he booked a room for two a few days ago and has been shopping since."
"Are you kidding me? Shopping?"
Kai nodded. "Women's jewelry, clothing, restaurants... basically a romantic getaway."
I felt like he punched me in the gut. "Romantic? Why would you say that?"
"Because the names assigned to the room are his and Kathy Donovan."
I shouldn't have been surprised... or upset. But I was. I was livid underneath.
"And Paul?"
"Paul's last transaction was a plane ticket to London."
"London? Why London?"
Kai shrugged. "Not sure why but I know he has an uncle living there,"
"I'm so confused. I know he's connected to this... I just know it."
"This is something way beyond our comprehension. No one knows about the link between these accidents because someone is covering them up. I just don't know why," he seemed as frustrated as I was.
I had to tell him... I just had to.
"It's a front. The company is a front for drug trafficking back in the 70s and then illegal booze in the 30s. Someone is out getting revenge... I think I know who it might be," I looked up at Kai to see his confused eyes.
"Brynne... tell me you didn't—"
"I had to,"
He sighed. "Okay, back up. How did you find all of this out?"
"I'll explain later but long story short, the owner of the shipping company, Alistair jr. was sold out to the FBI and he killed himself. I think his son might be the one out for blood. It's the only possible suspect,"
"Okay, who is this guy?"
"That's the thing... I don't really know but I know where we can find more information,"
He was skeptical at first but shortly after, I was sitting in the passenger seat of his car as we drove up to Maine. Up to the same warehouse by the sea. He didn't question me. Just asked directions along the way.
I had a weird feeling in my gut all of a sudden. Like something wasn't adding up. Like something bad was going to happen but I couldn't put my finger on it.
I pushed the thoughts away and focused on the warehouse coming into view... and also the sight of Micah getting out of his car.
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Hello guys! I know I missed last weeks update. I'm so sorry!!
But I'm making it up to you this week with a longer-than-usual chapter!!
Thank you so much for reading!
Why is Micah there?? What's going on???
Bri, xoxo