Page 13 of Fearless

When her eyes flickered with something, Sean cocked his head. “What?”

“I don’t think she really changed her mind. I think she told me that so I would stop asking about it.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a file in there that’s as recent as two days ago. Someone was asking for money in exchange for proof that Emma is still alive.”

Montana

Sean took another swallow of his cold coffee as his eyes roamed over the pages and pages of intel Brenda had gathered over the years. He snorted, shaking his head. Intel was not the correct terminology. Garbage was the more appropriate word. How could someone he knew who’d had a higher-than-average intellect, get caught up in such a scam?

He shouldn’t have to wonder about that. No matter how smart a person was, emotions often overruled logic. With all her might, Brenda had wanted Emma to be alive. She had somehow, with help from unethical and morally corrupt people, convinced herself of that.

The only good thing about most of this crap was that Brenda had realized she was being scammed. The psychics were the first to disillusion her. She had spent over two thousand dollars on them before she had come to that conclusion. She had made a note on the folder filled with the fake information and predictions that none of these people knew what they were talking about.

After that, she had gone to private investigators. Due to her lack of funds, the ones she’d chosen had been the cheap and sleazy kind. After three had bilked her out of almost seven thousand dollars, she had come to the same conclusion as she had with the psychics: They were all full of crap.

Instead of giving up, though, she had gone deeper down a rabbit hole on the Internet. And that was where his fury and ire were now centered.

The last few months of her life, Brenda had visited numerous websites devoted to how to find missing people. A couple of them were actually legitimate businesses. OZ had even worked with them a few times. Unfortunately, they weren’t helpful in feeding Brenda any false hope. So instead of giving up, she had found other people who were more than happy to feed her addiction. Some of these people were slick. They hadn’t asked for money at first or even offered ridiculous platitudes, but they’d fed her need, little by little, reeling her into their scam.

One group in particular had dangled just enough of a carrot to have her interest zero in on them completely. The week before she died, they had promised her the moon, accompanied by photos of a teenage girl who had the same color of eyes and hair as Emma. They claimed she had been trafficked and sold into some kind of cult, that she was being sexually abused daily, and they would get her out. There was only one caveat—they needed money to fund the rescue operation.

The amount they’d requested had been beyond anything Brenda would have been able to afford. And that’s when the real torture had begun. They had described, in detail, what young women sold into sexual slavery endured. A few hours after the last horrendous email had been sent, Brenda had died. And that brought Sean to one conclusion—his stepmother had been murdered.

Why hadn’t she called him? Even though she hadn’t known the details of his occupation, she’d known enough of his training to understand that he would have gladly taken these bastards on. And that was probably why she hadn’t told him. She had known he would see it as a scam, and she had so wanted to believe that Emma was still alive.

Rising from his chair, Sean shoved his fingers through his hair and then tugged hard. Just how much guilt could one man bear? It seemed he was about to find out. Not only had he failed Emma and Serena, he had failed Brenda, too.

Well, he was tired of this shit.

Sitting back down, Sean opened his laptop and got to work. He had learned more than one thing from his incredibly intelligent wife. Seeing Serena in action was a study in brilliance and fortitude. He was convinced that if she wanted to find a specific grain of sand, she could do it. He wasn’t nearly as skilled, but she had taught him a thing or two, and he was going to put that to good use. One way or another, he was going to hunt down these animals and end them.

Logging into Brenda’s email account, he sent a message to them, asking for additional time to gather the funds. Knowing his stepmother as well as he did, he easily sounded like her. Fortunately, there had been no obituary for Brenda, so these people would have no idea that they were no longer communicating with a vulnerable old woman, but with a man who was pissed as hell and intended to hunt them down.

He had noted that their English was excellent, and their emails were well crafted, hitting numerous emotional buttons. He surmised they were most likely located here in the States, and their operation appeared to be slick and sophisticated. This was no fly-by-night business, which made him wonder just how many other people they had taken advantage of like this.

While he waited for a reply, he went to work on finding out as much as he could about their supposed organization. While their website looked professional, he’d discovered that it had been created only a few months ago. The whole setup stank to high heaven.

Getting to his feet, he stretched cramped muscles. Hank jumped up from his bed in the corner. Tail wagging, tongue hanging out, eyes gleaming, he likely figured it was mealtime. Sean glanced at the clock over the mantel and cursed softly. Hell, it was well past mealtime.

Reaching down, he scratched Hank’s head and said, “Sorry, boy. Got distracted. Let’s get you some dinner, then we’ll go out for a quick walk.”

Gazing lovingly up at him as if he hadn’t been ignored for the past six hours, Hank gave a soft woof of agreement and followed Sean into the kitchen. With amazing patience, he quietly waited by his bowl while Sean put together dinner for both of them.

With practiced ease, he placed a sirloin steak in a hot skillet, and while it cooked, he steamed a medley of peas and carrots. Dinner was ready in ten minutes. He slid half the steak and veggies into Hank’s bowl. While his friend chowed down, Sean stood beside him and forced down his own meal. The food was tasteless in his mouth as he thought about Brenda and how he’d let her down.

Unable to finish, he dumped the rest of his meal into Hank’s bowl, who looked delighted to have the extra. Once the bowl was clean, Sean clipped on a leash and headed outside. He normally didn’t leash his dog, as Hank wasn’t one to just take off, but it was late, and if an errant squirrel caught Hank’s attention, Sean didn’t want to take the chance that Hank might decide to give chase.

Half an hour later, they were back inside. He unleashed Hank, who ran immediately to his giant bed and settled in for the night. Sean quickly checked Brenda’s email account. A message had come in from the bastards. They were generously giving Brenda one more day to come up with the funds.

Okay, now he could really get to work.

He responded in the way a desperate old woman, both vulnerable and sickly, might, telling them she believed she would be able to get the funds, but she needed to sell some items and was asking for more time.

Their reply was immediate, and no surprise, they were more than willing to wait a few extra days and even suggested a few places she could sell her items quickly.

The longer he chatted with these people, the more infuriated he became.