Page 71 of Her Nightshade

Callan sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands. “We need to figure out how he’s staying a step ahead. Who did you go to about the shit with Sarah in jail?”

“I, uh…” I stared at my hands, the weight of the admission sinking in. “I had my assistant, my friend Reese, find someone.”

Callan nodded slowly. “Alright. We start there.”

“The thing is…” I hesitated. “I fired Reese. I don’t know if he’ll help us or not.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Callan muttered, dragging his hands down his face. “Fine. I’ll get it out of him. Give me his number.”

I pulled out my phone, found Reese’s contact information, and handed it to Callan. Without a word, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Sloane and me alone in the tense silence that filled the room.

She sank onto the edge of the bed where Callan had been, her shoulders heavy with a sigh.

“My dad wasn’t always like this, you know,” she said softly, staring down at her hands. “He was a good dad. A good guy. And then he just threw it all away.” She glanced up at me, her voice sharper now. “You didn’t make this mess, Charlie. My dad did the day he decided to ruin our family.”

Her words took the edge off the guilt gnawing at me. She didn’t hate me, after all. She might have been angry, but now her anger had shifted, redirected to her father.

“Do you still speak with him?” I asked carefully, trying to piece together a plan. Maybe she could help in ways no one else could. An idea began forming in the back of my mind.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. He calls every so often. I only answer maybe half the time. Our relationship is…strained, to say the least. It’s hard to look past everything he did. Now I don’t think I ever want to speak to him again. My mom doesn’t deserve any of this.”

I let out a slow breath. “Do you think you’d speak to him again if it would help your mum?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Of course I would. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Maybe you could call your mum and tell her you’ve found out about Callan,” I said, leaning forward as the plan began to solidify. “Say you’re upset, that you’re having an argument and need to get away. If Jake overhears, he might try to play hero and invite you to the house.”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up as her mind churned through the idea. Before she could respond, Callan burst through the cracked door. He closed the door behind him, leaning against the dresser as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Well?” I asked impatiently, standing from my chair.

“He talked,” Callan said, his voice clipped. “Not much, but enough.”

“What did you say to him?” Sloane asked as she leaned forward on the bed.

“I told him I’d take what I knew about his involvement with Sarah to the authorities if he didn’t cooperate,” Callan said, his eyes narrowing. “That scared him enough to spill.”

“What did he say?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“He admitted to hiring someone for you—a freelancer named Kenneth Bart,” Callan explained. “I know of him. Bart is one of the best: discreet, thorough, and expensive. You paid him a fortune to watch me and Jake, didn’t you?”

I nodded, guilt pressing hard against my chest. “I wanted someone who could get the job done. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Well, congratulations,” Callan said dryly. “Bart might’ve flipped.”

Sloane straightened. “What do you mean?”

“Bart works for whoever pays him the most,” Callan continued. “If Jake figured out someone was watching him, it wouldn’t take much to offer Bart more money. If that’s the case, Jake’s had access to everything you’ve been doing, Charlie. That’s how he’s been staying one step ahead.”

The room fell silent.

“So, what do we do?” I finally asked.

“We find Bart,” Callan said firmly. “If he’s double-dipping, we’ll find out. And if he’s been working for Jake, we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

Sloane, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly perked up. “I think I should call my mom.” She was testing our plan with him.

Callan frowned, his head snapping towards her. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

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