There was a pause. “What?”
“Noah says there were others. Some participated, some only watched, but they’re all equally guilty.”
“Can’t you just torture the information out of him?”
“Yeah, obviously. But with these guys, it's hit or miss. Some of them sing at the first sign of a scalpel. Others, they’ll let you carve them like a Thanksgiving turkey and never give up a single thing. I can’t believe I’m going to say this but—in this one particular case—torture is a last resort.”
“I suppose,” she said begrudgingly, then, “Poor Noah.”
Poor Noah. Noah was strong. Tough. Had somehow managed to endure unspeakable things and still move on with his life with his psyche still somewhat intact, all without the help of anybody. No friends. No family. Nobody at all.
Something started to scratch at the back of Adam’s brain. “Noah’s dad, Wayne Holt. He was a school teacher, right?”
“Yeah, for a while. That’s what put him on your dad’s radar. He’d been repeatedly let go from various schools and, somehow, landed at Our Lady of Sorrows where he stayed and flourished for almost a decade. Your father was introduced to him by a friend of a friend, and it set off Thomas’s spidey senses. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking: What do a Catholic school teacher and a ten-time criminal loser have in common other than the obvious? Where did they meet? Were they childhood friends? How did they become close enough for Wayne to offer up his son to Gary?”
“That’s the other thing,” Calliope said, her voice growing hesitant.
“What is?”
“I’m still looking into it but something keeps bugging me. We vetted Holt for weeks before we sent you in to take him out. There was nothing that said anything about him having a child. Nothing. No birth certificates listed with him as the father. No sign of him having a child enrolled in school, which is pretty weird when you take into account him not only surviving but thriving in a Catholic school.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t think Noah is Holt’s son.”
“What?” Adam said, his pulse kicking up a little.
Calliope let out a shaky breath. “I think Holt might have kidnapped him or maybe even bought him.”
It made sense, so much sense that it was actually shocking none of them had considered it earlier. They’d never looked any deeper into how they’d missed the fact Holt had a child after he was dead, afraid they might call attention to themselves with their inquiries. “But Noah went into the system. Foster care. Wouldn’t they have run his fingerprints or DNA looking for relatives?”
“It would have only triggered if Noah was old enough to have been fingerprinted at some time or if he was born in the States. You know as well as I do that the only thing bigger than sex trafficking is child trafficking. If Holt bought him there would be no paper trail.”
“No way to find his real family,” Adam said, frustrated.
“Now, that’s not true. DNA has come a long way. If we submit his DNA to some genealogy websites, they might help us track down familial matches. We could work our way backwards. I would just need a sample.”
“Yeah, okay. In the meantime, I want a deep dive into Wayne Holt’s past. I want to know how he and Gary know each other. Wherever they hooked up might be where he found the others Noah mentioned.
“Yeah. I’ll keep digging, but I’m gonna have to take a bath in hand sanitizer when I’m done. I hate this part of the job.”
“I know.”
“Oh, the other guy? Your surprise guest at Gary’s? Yeah. Name’s Conan Greevey. He’s the head of all the city’s youth sports programs.”
Adam scrubbed a hand over his face, navigating the heavy rush hour traffic on autopilot. “Christ. Yeah, okay. You know what to do.”
“Deep dive into his life, too?”
“Yep. Any luck running down what kind of key that was?”
“It’s just a key to your garden variety padlock. It could be to a storage unit? A garage? A diary? Hell, it could be a padlock for a gate. I’m looking through his finances to see if he paid for any kind of storage or warehouse space but don’t get your hopes up.”
“Just let me know.”
“I will. Are you almost there?”
“Where?”
There was a long pause. “Adam. Please, tell me you didn’t forget to pick up the twins from the airport.”
He’d definitely forgotten to pick the twins up from the airport. “Of course, I didn’t. But I still don’t understand why they can’t just Uber? They’re adults.”
“Your father is a stickler for appearances. You know that.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Calliope?”
“Yes, Adam?”
“Can you…maybe send their flight info to my phone? You know, just to make sure I have it right.”
“It’s already done.”
Adam grinned, shooting across three lanes of traffic to exit the freeway. The airport was in the other direction. He was going to be late. Hopefully, their flight was delayed. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
“I know.”
Noah had just racked his hundredth bin of dishes into the sanitizer when Pedro nudged him. “Boss wants to see you.”
A shock ran through Noah’s blood, his pulse accelerating. Was Adam wrong? Did Gary know? Was there some super hidden camera they hadn’t noticed, or had the mysterious stranger seen them? He took a deep breath and let it out. He couldn’t go in there freaking out. He wiped his hands on his apron and left the back of the house.
There was a guest performing, so the house was rowdy. The music was a mix of classic rock and modern hip-hop, all with a throbbing bass beat that made Noah’s head pound. Or maybe that was just his fear. When he made it to Gary’s door, Bailey frowned from where she sat perched on the knee of a high roller. He shrugged. He didn’t bother knocking. Gary wouldn’t hear him anyway.
“You wanted to see me about something?” Noah asked, infusing as much boredom into his voice as possible.
Gary flicked his gaze up and down Noah’s jeans, t-shirt, and stained apron. “You find my backpack yet?”