Page 23 of Twice Missing
"He was let go a few days ago."
The revelation hit Noah like a punch to the gut. Carl McNeal, for all his faults, had been a constant in High Peaks' media landscape. "Let go? But I thought your father wanted him to run the show."
"Oh, he did, initially," Natalie said, her tone casual as if discussing the weather.
"So who's running the newspaper?"
"I am," Natalie replied, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Noah's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But I thought you didn't like to get involved in your father's business."
Natalie's smile faltered for a moment. "I don't, but he hasn’t exactly given me many options. So I chose to take on the one thing that he could use to skew the narrative."
Noah wasn't sure if this was good news or not. Carl out of the picture was certainly a bonus — the guy had been nothing but a thorn in his side since his arrival in High Peaks. But at least it was better to deal with the devil you knew than the devil you didn't.
Although things had been smoothed out between them since he'd saved her life, he hadn't forgotten what had led to his temporary dismissal from the State Police. There were still questions surrounding who took the photos of him, how they ended up in the hands of Savannah Legacy. His instinct told him that there was someone on the inside working for Luther Ashford, but he didn't know who.
"Anyway, what did Carl say?" Natalie asked.
Noah shrugged, trying to downplay the encounter. "I don't know. He was just blabbering incoherently. He certainly didn't look like himself."
Natalie glanced off to where she'd last seen Carl, then looked back at Noah. "Anyway, what brings you out to the casino?"
"I had to speak with Gabriel."
A flicker of concern crossed Natalie's face. "Nothing problematic, I hope?"
"No," Noah assured her. "I just needed insights into some evidence we collected from a case." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Listen, if you're running the newspaper, what are you doing here?"
"TheAdirondack Daily Enterpriseisn't my only business," Natalie replied smoothly. "I oversee some of the operations here."
Noah's brow furrowed. "Gabriel works for you?"
"He works for our family," Natalie corrected, her tone leaving no room for further questions on that topic. She changed gears smoothly. "Look, do you have any plans for supper this evening?"
Noah hesitated. "I've got things I have to get done."
"You have to eat, Noah," Natalie pressed, her voice taking on a softer tone. "Come on, State can't be working you to the bone every hour of the day. Breathe a little. The case will still be there in a few hours. I'm going to pull in and drop something off, and then I'll be right back. Good?"
Noah found himself nodding despite his reservations. "Sure. Okay."
9
McKenzie squinted through his binoculars, the cold December air fogging up the lenses as he exhaled. The unmarked car he and Deputy Thorne occupied was parked across from a seedy motel in Elizabethtown, its neon sign flickering weakly in the early evening darkness. Snow fell gently, dusting the windshield and creating a picturesque scene that belied the grim nature of their stakeout.
The smell of Thorne's burrito filled the car, a pungent reminder that they'd been sitting there for hours. McKenzie's stomach growled, but he ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. They were here on an unauthorized stakeout, following leads that Noah had uncovered about a possible connection between human trafficking and several motels in the area.
"Pass me another coffee, would you?" McKenzie grumbled, not taking his eyes off the motel. Thorne obliged,handing him a lukewarm cup from the thermos they'd brought along.
"So let me get this straight," Thorne said between bites. "Noah thinks that a human trafficking ring could be operating here in our backyard?"
McKenzie lowered his binoculars, turning to face his partner. "He thinks it's a possibility, especially if the cartel is involved. They're not just going to shut up shop because the owner came under scrutiny, though they might move the chess pieces around. One of the biggest challenges that human traffickers face is bringing in clients without raising an alarm. They can't bring them into an establishment they own. Residents ask too many questions. Hence the reason why so many busts occur in motels and hotels. People are used to seeing strangers come and go. It's a simple cover but one that can go south really quick if the owner starts monitoring. Now if you have the owner in on it, it makes the whole operation a breeze."
Thorne's brow furrowed. "And so where does Luther Ashford come into all of this?"
"That sleazeball has been one step ahead of us the whole time. He's never the face of a business, always the silent partner."
"You think Ashford is involved with the cartel?"
