The Severed Thread (10 page)

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Authors: Dione C. Suto

BOOK: The Severed Thread
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“The containers would have had to be identical for McCallister to presume it was the same one he saw loaded at the port in Panama,” I agreed while thinking the container switching seemed too well orchestrated for Jason.  He was impulsive; which might explain why he got involved in this disaster in the first place.  Switching two identical containers with nearly the same tracking number required careful planning – definitely not Jason’s MO.  There had to be someone else involved, I just needed to figure out who.

“You know that both containers were refrigerated and carrying bananas, right?”

“I knew that the missing shipment contained bananas,” I confirmed, nodding.  “So I assumed the container was a refrigeration unit.”  Bananas had to be either shipped in the refrigerated hold of ships known reefers or in refrigerated containers.  Since the Lassiter Storm was not a reefer ship, it made sense that we were looking for a refrigerated container.

“A container of bananas that was supposed to have something on it belonging to Liam McCallister,” she said dramatically.  “Hmm…. I wonder what that could be?” 

“I’m going to say that I have no idea to what you are referring,” I declared while giving her a stern look.  “You need to have plausible deniability.”

“Alright,” she responded doubtfully.  “I know you did not want to compromise Corbin’s ethics but we both know I can handle it.”  She leaned towards me across Jason’s desk and whispered, “But just so you know, I can already guess what went missing.”

“Guessing and knowing are not the same,” I whispered back.

“I suppose, if you are really splitting hairs.”  She rolled her eyes, straightening back up to her full height.  “Seriously though, what else can I do?”

“Make sure neither container is reloaded and if it is, unload it.  I need to get into both of them.” 

“You plan on making a Location attempt?”  Samantha was one of three people who knew I was a Locator.  The list of people I trusted was short and contained my mother, Samantha and Corbin.  All people I was certain could keep a secret.

“I have to at least try.”  I didn’t have a lot of time to find the missing Sapphire.  Using my Location skills seemed the fasted way to track it down.

“People are going to think it’s weird that you want to walk around inside two containers, you know.  You don’t usually make a habit of doing that kind of thing,” she said wryly. 

“Good point.  Can we move them somewhere less obvious?” I asked.  “Put them on two trucks and drive them somewhere that I can get into after hours?  I don’t know… I’m open to ideas.” 

“I will see what I can come up with.”

“Thanks Sam.”

“No problem,” she shrugged before disappearing down the hall to her office. 

I took another look around Jason’s office and decided I was not going to find anything useful here.  I headed back to my office since it was nearly time for Sal to show up.

Minutes later, there was a knock on my door.  It was Sal, wearing his usual office attire; jeans, dress shirt and sports jacket.  He looked every inch the seasoned sea captain with his close cut salt and pepper beard, weathered complexion and piercing blue eyes.  But today, his normally gruff and self-assured appearance has taken on a sad pallor. 

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” I said as I came around the desk to give him a big hug.  I was immediately enveloped in his warm embrace.  I took a deep breath, my nose tickled by the scents of peppermint and tobacco.  Someone was still smoking cigars against doctors’ orders.  I grabbed the lapel of his jacket and sniffed deeply, before eying him.

“Cigars?”

“Just last night and this morning,” he admitted.  “I needed something to make me feel better.  I can’t believe that he is actually gone.”  He moved me to arm’s length while still gripping my upper arms.   Sal had always been close to Jason.  I think he initially took Jason under his wing when he saw how ugly the relationship was between him and our father.  Over time a strong bond had developed between the two.

“I know,” I replied sadly before moving back to the other side of the desk.

“Do you have any idea why someone would do this to him?” he asked as he took a seat in the chair across from me.

“Two agents from the Interspecies Bureau asked me the same thing last night.  Repeatedly.”  Between that and the little invitation from McCallister, I was exhausted this morning. 

“I noticed that you didn’t actually answer the question I asked.”  I looked up to find him watching me carefully, a tense expression on his face.

“When I answered yesterday, I truthfully had no idea.  There have been some developments since then,” I said evasively.   

“What type of developments?” He leaned towards me in his chair. 

“Nothing I can talk about and nothing that can be discussed with the agents,” I replied firmly.  “I expect they will be by to talk to you and the rest of the staff at some point.”

“You should be helping the agents, not withholding information!” he said.  Sal was nothing if not honorable.  That I was lying by omission to the agents of the Interspecies Bureau apparently rankled.

“Normally, I would agree with you Sal but in this case it seems that Jason got himself and Lassiter shipping involved in something worth killing over,” I responded with a pleading look.  I was hoping he would trust me on this.  “Something that could get more people killed if I don’t handle things correctly.”

He just looked at me with a stubborn set to his jaw.  I tried another line of reasoning.

“Sal, I know it’s a lot to ask but I need you to bear with me for a few days,” I said with a sigh.  “No one wants to see Jason’s murderer held accountable more than me.”   
And I plan to make them pay when I find them
I added silently,
even
if it turned out to be Liam McCallister.  I had been layering glue on the cracks of my psyche since yesterday.  It was likely that when I discovered who the killer was all those patches would be as effective at holding back my wrath as a piñata around a detonated pile of explosives.  I would be lucky if I could keep my berserker from killing anyone.

“I will give you some time,” he agreed grudgingly.  I could tell he still didn’t like it.  I was just relieved that he was going along, at least for now.

“Thank you Sal, for trusting me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly.  “It was never a question of trust.  My hesitation has more to do with your experience.”  I must have made a puzzled face because he continued before I could ask what the hell that meant.

“You may have a good nose on you Abigail, thanks to your heritage” he explained, “but I don’t think you have much experience with the smell of an impending storm.  My nose tells me that this stinks of a disaster in the making.”

“You may be right Sal,” I agreed.  “But I have to try to sort this out on my own first.”

“I respect that,” he said.  “Just don’t leave it till too late to take the help that is being offered.”  We sat quietly for a moment.  Both of us lost to our own thoughts.  I was thinking about how Sal was right about the impending disaster but wrong that I did not see it coming.  My problem was really that I couldn’t figure out how to navigate around it.   I shook my head in a futile attempt to clear my thoughts.   There was something else important I needed to discuss with Sal while I had him.

“Sal, I wanted to ask you if you knew who Jason would go to if he needed to get something done off the books.” 

“What type of something?”

“Something that had to be shipped without certain authorities noticing,” I explained.

“Christ,” he said, rubbing one if his paw like hands over his face.  “Like I said, disaster,” he muttered to himself.  There was nothing to say to that really.  He was right.  He glanced at me and I just raised my brows in inquiry. 

“I’m not sure but I will ask around for you,” he finally answered.

“I don’t know if you should do any actual
asking
,” I suggested for his safety.  “What I really need you to do is listen to the scuttlebutt and let me know if anything sounds helpful.”

“I will do my best to help,” he replied nodding. 

“Thank you,” I said.  “Between the authorities looking into Jason’s death, the funeral, the press and running things here, I need all the help I can get.”

I got up and gave him another hug before he left.  Assuring him that I would keep him up to date on anything I found out.

“Ms. Lassiter?” Johanna’s voice came over the phone’s intercom just as I was sitting back down at my desk.

“I’m here, what’s up?”

“There are two agents here from the Interspecies Bureau that would like to see you.”  I was wondering when they would show up.  I looked at my watch; it was nearly time to go to my mother’s. 

“I’ll be right there,” I told her before quickly calling Samantha.

“Can you meet me at Johanna’s desk?  The two agents from the Interspecies Bureau are here and I need to leave soon.  Do you think you can play hostess and keep an eye on them?”

“Sure.  Is there anything that I should be wary about them searching?”

“I don’t think so but if they request anything that makes you hesitate, call Joshua,” I suggested.  “Otherwise, I trust your judgment.  Mostly I think they are going to want to interview the staff.  If they want to do any real searching, I think they need a warrant, or we should at least clear it with Joshua.”

“Alright, see you in a sec,” she said before hanging up.

As I make my way to the reception area, I could hear Johanna offering the agents something to drink which they both politely declined.

“Agents,” I said offering my hand first to Agent McCabe.

“Good morning.”  The rich timbre of Agent McCabe’s voice flowed into the space.  “We hoped to talk to some of your employees today.”

“I expected as much,” I said as I turn to greet Agent Smathon.  I steeled myself for his clammy limp handshake and he didn’t disappoint.  Just as I was fighting the urge to wipe my hands on my clothing, Samantha showed up.

“I promised my mother I would be over to help her with the funeral arrangements and I have to leave shortly.”  Agent Smathon tensed.  I guess he thought I was going to put them off?  “I have asked Samantha to assist you while I’m away,” I continued, indicating Samantha.

“Samantha Goldwater,” she said, reaching out her hand first to Agent McCabe and then to Agent Smathon.  I couldn’t help watching her face as she took Smathon’s hand.  I struggled to swallow my smile as I noticed her discreetly running her right hand up and down the back of her pant leg.  She caught me watching her and narrowed her eyes.  “
Yeah, I guess I could have warned you
,” I sent.  “
My bad
.”

 

Chapter 9

 

The drive to my parent’s home in Gladwyne takes about twenty-five minutes with good traffic.  Today I was in luck and made the trip in near record time, taking a few minutes to enjoy the scenery the last couple of miles.  Gladwyne is an affluent suburb of Philadelphia overflowing with tree lined roads and mansions located along the historic Main Line.   It has a surprisingly bucolic feel considering it’s so amazingly close to the city.

As I approached the drive, I was surprised to see that the gate was open.  With all of the reporters camped outside the office and my home, I had expected to see a gaggle of journalists here as well. 

“Hello, Thomas,” I said, stopping to talk briefly to the guard working at the gate.  I guess you didn’t have to worry too much about the gate if it was manned with an armed security guard, especially if that guard was also a werewolf.

 “Hello Ms. Lassiter,” he said leaning down and putting his hand on the lowered window.  “I’m very sorry about Jason.  The rest of the staff is pretty broken up about it as well.”  Thomas was a good guy.  He had been working for our family since I was a little kid.

“Thank you,” I said, patting his hand.  “We are all going to feel his absence.”  He tipped his head at me with a small smile and stepped back away from the car.

I passed through the gate and headed up the drive, circling around the fountain to park in front of a nearly sixteen thousand square foot turreted monstrosity my father had built when I was five years old.  It never ceased to amaze me that my father had requested the home have turrets like those normally associated with fairytales.  There were three that could be seen from the drive and two more that were only visible from the back.  A medieval castle seemed more in keeping with his personality.  But, I had to admit, as children Jason and I had loved to run through the gardens pretending to be princesses and knights.  We would hunt down dragons and act out jousts.  The memory of those carefree childhood days was bittersweet. 

I pulled myself from the driver’s seat before quickly striding up the front steps.  I did not knock or ring the bell when I got to the front door; this had been my home for nearly sixteen years.  I pushed open the door and breathed in the familiar scents of lemon oil and freesia.   The whimsy and imagination of the exterior ended at the entryway.  Here there was only a nod to whimsicality in the dramatically curved staircase with its ornately scrolled handrail under which was tucked a baby grand piano shouldering the burden of an impressive candelabrum.  The rest of the house was monochromatically overstuffed in a sea of cream and gilded wood.

I strode further into the neutral interior in search of my mother who I assumed will be in the solarium.   It was her sanctuary, filled with plants and light.  I always thought you would never get the winter blues if you could just spend some time there every day.  The abundance of flowers and moist air ensured that within its confines, it was eternally summer.

The warm pungency of earth and vegetation embraced me.  My mother was perched on a settee with Aunt Gracie on the far side of the room.  She seemed calm although she was blotting at her eyes with a delicate needlework hanky.  Somehow, even after a sleepless night and what I knew had to be hours of crying, she still looked regal.  Her blond hair was sleek and her clothing unwrinkled.  She had the perpetually youthful appearance her elven blood granted her.  She looked not a day over thirty-five even though she was well into her eighties.

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