My parents argued from time to time, of course, but the fight they had that day was the worst I had ever seen. My mother was beyond livid and even threatened to leave him to protect me.
It took my father agreeing to keeping his notes in a place I couldn’t find to appease her. When they made up, my mother went out and bought him a laptop the next day.
This very laptop.
Every case he’s ever worked on since then, all his notes, thoughts, and feelings about them, is right here, at our very fingertips.
“Here…” Amanda says thoughtfully and finally stops clicking. “This is what I think you were looking for.”
When I glance at the folder and see the name—Sophia Cronin—I immediately feel sick to my stomach.
My father was a man of truth, logic, and numbers, he possessed very little creativity. In fact, I’m pretty sure he preferred to live in reality and not fantasy. I don’t think I ever saw him read a book for pleasure.
The fact that he named the folder after me, a folder buried deep in his case files, already confirms what I’ve been fearing all along.
He was personally trying to hunt down the Russians behind our kidnapping.
I’ve had my suspicions. After my rescue, I gave up my townhouse and moved back in with him because I didn’t feel safe by myself.
But he was rarely home, always working on something.
And this… this just further cements it.
Reaching for the touchpad, I double-click to open the folder.
A prompt immediately pops up asking for a password.
I just stare at the prompt for a moment, wondering if it’s a sign I should stop and turn back. That maybe I’m better off not knowing…
Because what if there’s more to my father’s death than what’s on the surface? What if there’s more than the Russians taking the opportunity to take him out?
That’s what James seems to believe. Why he’s so gung-ho about protecting me. I know he thinks someone betrayed my father. Someone on the force.
Yesterday, when he showed me the department’s personnel files and explained his suspicions, it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from showing him my surprise and worry.
Brushing him off was almost as hard as lying to him about being sore and having terrible cramps.
Speaking of which…
Turning to Amanda, I ask, “Hey, you don’t have any birth control pills on you, do you?”
There’s no point in asking Beth, she’s already knocked up. She’s only a couple of months pregnant, but I doubt she still carries them around with her.
Amanda blinks at me in surprise. “Uh… no. I have an IUD. Why?”
Trying not to show my disappointment, I shrug. “No reason.”
“Sure,” Amanda says like she doesn’t believe me, but then she rolls her eyes. “Whatever. We’ll talk about that later. Do you want me to put the password in?”
Pulling my hand back, I nod at her because my throat closes up so tight with anxiety I can’t speak.
Amanda quickly types the password in, opening up the folder. Inside, there’s file upon file, all dating back to seven months ago.
I point at the very top file and Amanda double-clicks on it, opening it in the word processor.
The three of us fall into silence as we read my father’s personal account of what happened when we were grabbed by the Russians.
Of how he first learned that I was taken.
He received a call from Lucifer himself informing him that his daughter had been grabbed and thrown into a van outside a bar.
Naturally, at first, he suspected Lucifer was behind it, that it was some kind of scheme or blackmail situation. After all, Lucifer had warned him not to let anyone know what had happened, and not to investigate or go public.
That if he did, me and my friend’s lives would most likely be forfeit.
Lucifer assured my father that he was working on the situation and he would do everything in his power to safely rescue me.
Of course, my father didn’t completely believe him, and he couldn’t sit around and do nothing. He ended up driving around the city himself, searching for us. And when he came up empty-handed, he confided in his closest friend and confidant, Jacob Morrison.
Together, secretly, they worked on figuring out what happened to us. All other investigations were pushed to the side, and the officers under their commands were utilized without being aware of what they were really working on.
Despite pulling every string he had at his disposal, my father kept hitting roadblock after roadblock in the investigation.
A few days later, when he was about to give up hope and was considering raiding Lucifer’s compound, Lucifer reached out to him and informed him he had located me and was in the process of rescuing me.
Two minutes after the call with Lucifer, Jacob Morrison called my father and told him he had a major breakthrough. That he had received an anonymous tip that a woman matching my description had been kidnapped and was going to be smuggled out of the country through Landow Airstrip.
Not trusting Lucifer, my father and Jacob Morrison immediately dispatched a team to the airstrip.
Ten minutes later, on the way to the airstrip, Lucifer called my father again and informed him I had been successfully rescued and was ready to be reunited with him.
Again, believing it was some kind of setup, my father sent Jacob and the team on ahead to the airstrip while he rendezvoused with Lucifer.
Much to his surprise and relief, Lucifer was in fact telling the truth, and we were reunited.
Reaching the end of the file, I lean back and give Amanda and Beth time to finish reading. My mind and emotions whirling at all the new information.
Memories… so many bad memories threaten to overwhelm me, but knowing now is not the time to break down, I hold them back.
During my captivity, at my weakest point, I became convinced no one was looking for me.
But my father was doing everything in his power to find me.
Once Amanda then Beth nods, signaling they’ve finished reading, we click to the next file.
Instead of opening in the word processor, this file opens in the image viewer, and at once I realize it’s a copy of the police report my father filed after I was safely returned.
“Close it,” I croak at Amanda.
I don’t need to see the file, I already know everything that’s in it. It’s my personal account of what happened and a copy of the medical examination I went through at the hospital.
Amanda quickly closes out the image without questioning me about it.
Moving her finger along the touchpad, she hovers the pointer over the next file and frowns at the screen.
“It will probably take us days to read through all of these,” she points out.
And she’s totally right. The folder is filled with dozens of files that span over the last few months.
Like I said, my father documented everything.
“We don’t have days,” I sigh.
Too much could go wrong before we make it to the end.
“I agree.” Amanda frowns.
“What if we just jump to the latest file and work back from there?” Beth asks.
“You, Beth, are a genius,” Amanda says and looks to me for confirmation. “I think that’s our best bet.”
I nod in agreement.
All the stuff in the earlier files, we probably already know. What we don’t know is why my father went after the Russians the way he did.