Page 87 of Twice Missing
Plush leather sofas and intricately carved woodenfurniture were artfully arranged throughout the space, their rich textures reflecting the wealth behind this operation. Native American artworks adorned the walls, their beauty tainted by the knowledge of how they were likely acquired. Mounted animal heads stared down with glass eyes, silent witnesses to the unfolding drama.
A grand staircase with wrought iron railings curved up to the second floor, its polished wood gleaming in the soft light of designer fixtures. Hallways branched off in several directions, hinting at the numerous bedrooms and other amenities hidden within the sprawling structure. The hardwood floors beneath their feet shone with a mirror-like finish, reflecting the opulence around them.
Noah's voice cut through the silence, echoing off the high ceilings. "Nathan Carter!" he called out, his tone authoritative and unwavering. "Come on out!”
For a moment, only silence answered him. Then, movement caught their eye. Nathan appeared at the top of the staircase, his face a mask of fear and resignation. "They forced me," he said, his voice trembling. "I had no other choice."
Noah's grip tightened on his weapon, but his voice remained steady. "Lock your hands behind your head and make your way down," he instructed, his eyes never leaving Nathan's form as the man cautiously descended the stairs.
As Nathan reached the bottom, Noah's next command was clear and firm. "Turn away from us and get on your knees." McKenzie moved in swiftly, the handcuffs ready. The click of the metal closing around Nathan's wrists seemed to echo in the cavernous room.
As they hauled him to his feet, Nathan's eyes locked onto Noah's, desperation evident in every line of his face. "They would have killed my children just like they killed Emily," he pleaded. "I had no choice."
A flicker of understanding passed through Noah's eyes. He knew all too well the lengths a parent would go to protect their children, the impossible choices one might make when faced with such threats. But sympathy couldn't override duty. "You'll get your day in court," Noah said, his voice softer but no less resolute as they led Nathan out.
Outside, the night air was filled with tension and the crackle of radio static as Callie called for backup from the local sheriff's office. As they waited, with sirens wailing in the distance, Noah's attention was drawn to the truck. His curiosity piqued, he made his way to the back and heaved the doors open.
The interior was filled with a vast array of solar panels, their surfaces glinting dully in the low light. Noah was about to close the doors when a slight movement caught his eye, accompanied by a muffled sound from the depths of the trailer.
His hand instinctively tightened on his weapon. "Whoever's back there, come on out," he called, his voice firm. "Keep your hands raised!"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, from the shadows at the rear of the truck, a figure emerged. As the person stepped into the light, Noah's eyes widened in recognition. It wasn't Marcus or Oates as he might have expected, but Jacob Moon.
Jacob's hands were raised, his face a mixture of fear and desperation. "Don't shoot. Please," he pleaded, his voice cracking.
36
He offered honest answers despite the looming threat of jail time.
Outside the reservation, far beyond the reach of anyone who might sway his decisions, Jacob crumbled. His facade of innocence shattered as he recounted his involvement in the disappearance of his former girlfriend Kayla Bravebird.
Leaning against a Franklin County sheriff’s cruiser, Jacob took a long drag from his cigarette, his hands trembling slightly. As he began to speak, the weight of his secrets lifted, and his words tumbled out in a rush of guilt and relief.
"The night Kayla went missing," he began, his voice hoarse, "she found out about my involvement in smuggling. One of the women in the truck told her." He paused, gathering himself. "What I said about us breaking up was true. I was trying to get her to stop digging into Selena'sdeath. I knew if she kept going, she'd eventually uncover everything."
Noah watched him carefully, noting every twitch and hesitation. "She came to see you that night, didn't she?" he pressed. "Be honest, Jacob. We're getting the data on her phone's last ping. It was at your place, wasn't it?"
Jacob nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground. "She showed up furious, screaming at me. I tried to calm her down, but..." He took a shuddering breath. "I pushed her. She tripped, hit her head on the counter. There was so much blood... I panicked."
"Where's her body, Jacob?" Noah asked, his voice firm but not unkind.
"Gone. Cremated," Jacob replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "My uncle owns the local crematorium. I stripped the body, planted her jeans near Marcus' place. I figured with his record, the cops would pin it on him. Plus, he was hurting my sister."
Noah's mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. "Does Jessica know about any of this?"
"No," Jacob said quickly. "She's innocent in all this."
"And Kayla's phone?"
Jacob's shoulders sagged. "I planted it in Marcus' place the day of the fire. I started that fire, you know. Needed a way to get the cops in there, get Jessica out, and plant the phone."
Noah nodded, understanding dawning. "So you had the phone all this time?"
"Yeah. I kept it powered off. I was trying to figure out what to do with it."
"Was Marcus involved at all?" Noah asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.
Jacob nodded. "In the drug trade, yeah. I'd deliver drugs smuggled across the border, he'd sell it. Oates got a cut to look the other way."
