Page 83 of Her Final Hours
As the truth unraveled before McKenzie and Callie, they realized the extent of the darkness they were up against. The web of corruption stretched far and wide, infiltrating even the most unsuspecting corners of society. No wonder they were hard to catch. The left hand never knew what the right hand was doing.
Aghast by what he’d heard, McKenzie cried out, his face contorted with anger and disbelief as he confronted Patrick. “You sick son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with contempt.
Patrick, defensive and overwhelmed by his guilt, attempted to justify himself. “I didn’t know,” he protested, his voice wavering.
McKenzie wasn’t convinced and unleashed his fury upon Patrick. “Don’t you dare say that! You knew. You eventually knew what you were doing. You could have told someone. You could have told anyone,” he spat angrily, his eyes bulging with rage.
Patrick knew he couldn’t win, but with resignation in his eyes, he tried to explain. “That’s where you are wrong,” he muttered. “This is bigger than you know. Once you are in, you don’t get to walk away — alive.”
Callie understood McKenzie’s anger. She wanted to bring down the entire operation and save any remaining victims. They weren’t so naïve as to believe these girls were going to good homes for adoption. They were being trafficked, and she wanted to throw every resource they had at their disposal to dismantle the intricate network that preyed upon the vulnerable.
“Joseph Collins. The nurse. Did he try to walk away?”
She could see how his involvement was weighing him down. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. “Joseph fucked up. He fucked up on another level,” he confessed. “He was a holder who decided to hold on to one too long, one that was supposed to have gone decades ago. He never told the others. He kept her for himself.”
Callie’s heart sank at the realization. “Payton Scott, right?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Patrick nodded silently.
“How did the others not know?”
“He knew a catcher out of state.”
“Is she still alive?” Callie questioned.
Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is what Collins told…” He hesitated as if a name had almost escaped his lips, but he caught himself. “What he told the others about holding on to one and losing a shitload of cash.”
“Cash?” McKenzie asked.
“To the sum of three million.”
Cash? Payton? Her thoughts raced, realizing the horrifying truth that had befallen Noah’s friend. But then, a glimmer of hope flickered in her mind. “You shrugged when I asked if she was alive,” she pointed out.
Patrick looked deflated. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “All I know is what they told me when they said Collins was dead. They were making it clear what happens to those who mess up.”She felt no sympathy even as he added, “That’s why I never said anything.”
Even McKenzie understood the terrifying grip that this network had on those involved. They stood there in the snow forest as dark secrets unfolded before them. She needed more information and evidence to bring down the insidious operation.
The sound of a train’s rumble in the distance seemed to underscore the gravity of their conversation. Callie pressed on. “How do they move them, Patrick?”
He met her gaze, his eyes haunted by all he’d seen. “I told you, in vans. They use service vans, the ones that blend in. They’ll take them from homes if needed, but summer campgrounds are their prime targets. No one pays much attention to service people, too many people around,” he explained.
Callie clarified her question. “I meant after. The deliverers. How do they transport them?”
A flicker of realization crossed her face as he glanced away and then back at her.
“They’re using trains?”
He confirmed with a nod. “Freight. During the night.”
It made sense, the girl being found near the tracks. Was Collins in the process of moving her? Had Payton tried to stop him?
McKenzie interjected, full of concern. “Is your father involved in this?”
Patrick shook his head vehemently. “No. No,” he emphasized, desperate to distance his father from these horrors. No doubt, guilt had eaten away at him, especially after his father had tried to help him by continuing to let him work for his company, utterly unaware of how his van was being used.
Callie exchanged a look with McKenzie, a silent understanding passing between them. McKenzie couldn’t help butbring up Tasha, reminding Patrick of the debts and consequences that faced him. “By the way, Tasha sends her regards; she wants money.”
“Doesn’t everyone,” he said.
