Page 13 of Lost to Thievery
A week later, I sat inside a glass-walled boardroom inside the FBI Headquarters, appropriated by Owen to serve as our team’s command centre. It was the taskforce’s first official briefing. There were six of us gathered around the boardroom table. Curious eyes flitted between people, but most lingered on me.
“Thank you to everyone who agreed to be on this team,” Owen said from where he stood at the head of the table, in front of the big screen that I couldn’t look at.
He pressed a button on the table and the glass walls turned frosted, hiding us from the rest of the facility.
“How could we say no? This will be one for the history books. I can feel it,” the man sitting next to me said. He was the only face I recognised.Taylor, Becket had called him. He was the agent that I’d spoken to in Grayson’s torture room. And probably the Taylor that Director Devereux referred to as atrusted friendof Owen’s.
“Before I give you the details of the case, let me introduce everyone. Some of you might have worked together before, some not.” Owen pointed at the woman closest to him. “This is Emerie Whitlock, a colleague of mine. We specialize in Art Theft.”
Emerie met everyone’s eyes and made a saluting gesture, looking almost bored.
Owen moved on to the person next to Emerie. A buff-looking guy, no hair, with a stern expression. “This is Marshall Madden, tactical expert. He and his SWAT team will be the muscle of this operation.”
“Then that makes me the brains,” Taylor quipped from beside me.
Owen fought a smile. “The loudmouth over there is Liam Taylor, mediocre Forensic Analyst, and expert shit talker.”
Liam laughed. “I’ll be using that in my dating profile.”
Owen shook his head before continuing. “This is Cynthia—”
“Dear, God,” the woman interrupted. “If anyone calls me by my grandma’s name, I’ll gun you down with your own service weapon. It’s Syntax.”
Owen smiled. “Syntax then. She’s our techie.”
I already knew I was going to get along with her just fine. The golden piercings adorning her ears, nose and mouth, perfectly complemented her dark skin, making her look like some kind of High Priestess of olden times. Paired with her white pants suit and golden eyeshadow, she was dazzling. But the mischievous light dancing in her eyes was even more captivating.
“Then the one you’ve all been waiting for, judging by the looks she’s been getting.” He pointed to me, and I tried not to cower in my seat. “This is Ava Beaumont. Consultant to this team and expert in anything Apparition related. Therealbrains in this operation.” Owen gave a mocking glance towards Liam.
Liam scoffed but winked at me.
“Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get started. I don’t need to remind you that nothing leaves this room, right?”
Everyone nodded, eyes glued to Owen in anticipation.
“Great. In front of everyone is a case file with everything Ava and I know thus far.”
Everyone eagerly opened the files in front of them, except for me. I knew every word, every picture by soul. Owen cleared his throat as he turned to the screen, pulling everyone’s attention to him yet again. I reluctantly looked up at the screen, seeing the three faces that still haunted me when I closed my eyes. It was action photos, taken from the footage of our failed takedown attempt. “Our perps.” Owen enlarged the photo of Gemma. “This is the newest member of the Apparitions.” Owen shot a glance at me, slightly cringing at his choice of words. BecauseIhad been the newest member of the Apparitions. If only for a wild, short time.
“Gemma Monroe. Twenty-six years old. She was sold by her father to sex traffickers. That is how she met Varon. He bought her at an auction and helped her bring the entire sex trafficking ring down. We have confirmed this and linked it to an ongoing investigation of the downfall of the Maddox trafficking ring.”
“Jesus. So,theywere responsible for Maddox?” Syntax gaped at the screen.
“Yes, and I hope that drives home the type of people we’re dealing with here.” Owen met the eyes of everyone at the table, then continued. “Varon took Monroe in, where she met and fell in love withHunter.” The screen flashed to the photo of Hunter, face contorted in panic as he tried to reach Gemma. “Surname still unknown. Around thirty years old. And the adopted brother of Varon. Hunter’s family took ten-year-old Grayson in after the tragic death of his own family. Nothing more is known about Hunter and his family.”
I swallowed hard. Nothing more of value to the FBI, maybe. But I knew plenty more about Hunter. I knew his favourite snacks, his favourite song; the way his face lit up when Gemma walked into the room. I knew his fierce loyalty to Grayson and Gemma, and I knew the little dimple in his right cheek when he truly smiled—something he only did around family. And I knew he was Grayson’s rock. The person who kept him grounded, and a person Grayson would take a bullet for.Hadtaken a bullet for.
“And that brings us to Varon himself.” Owen switched to a picture of Grayson staring down from the helicopter. Syntax shifted uncomfortably at the photo. I bet most of the people in the room felt some sort of unease at the brutal anger contorting Grayson’s menacing face. Looking at the man in the picture, it goes without saying, that anyone who’d received such a glare from him would surely die.
Owen’s eyes flicked to me, checking in to see if I was okay. Only him and I knew thatthatanger had been directed at me.
“Grayson Varon.” Owen’s voice broke through the silence. “Thirty-two years old. Mastermind behind the Apparitions. Thief, sociopath, killer. Check your files for a complete profile. Unlike the others, we found a paper trail for him, up until the day his family died. Then he ceased to exist. No social services reports about where he ended up. No sign of which University he lectured at. Nothing.”
“They have an excellent techie in their pocket,” Syntax mused.
Owen nodded. “Exactly. But considering how high profile his family and their murders were, they couldn’t erase him completely.”
“Varon… Varon. That sounds familiar,” Emerie pondered.
