“Yes. For generations my family has been in the furniture business. When Brandon’s… talent was discovered I made sure he had the proper education and training in accordance with business in the cyber world. My wife’s family business is heavily into electronics and gaming, it seemed like a good idea and they had the connections. Brandon was able to help build Seafind when he was still in middle school.”
Raul started to put some pieces together. “Is Brandon your only child?”
“No. I have four others, he’s the only magical, however.” Lynch slipped the computer bag off his shoulder.
“Your wife isn’t Brandon’s mother,” Raul said.
Lynch shook his head. “My marriage was more of a merger.”
“Furniture and electronics, they do go together.”
“I like my wife, she likes me, and we’ve had an understanding since the beginning,” Lynch said. “You must appreciate that sort of life, I hear werewolf packs often have such unions.”
“Packs are an invention of Hollywood, we have families.” Not unlike the Mafia has families. Raul didn’t address the part about arranged unions for profit not fun. “But, back to you. You broke the rules and got one of your flings knocked up. But Brandon had the potential for special skills both you and your wife and by extension your families could put to good use. So, your wife let it slide in return for a sparkly new billion-dollar creation,” Raul sniped. He was lining up the dots. Brandon was an indiscretion who turned into the goose who laid the electronic golden egg. Mr. Lynch, douche would be a step up for you. “Does Brandon’s mother have contact with him?” Lynch’s eyebrows went up and Raul snorted. “Please, Mr. Lynch, he’s not the first rich kid I’ve had to track down. Putting jigsaw pieces together is what I do. Did you pay her off to never contact him again, or did she have visitation?”
“As far as the rest of the world knows, Brandon is the son of my wife and myself. Brandon knows he’s adopted, not why,” Lynch said. He at least had the decency to not meet Raul’s eyes and to appear slightly ashamed. He held out the laptop bag.
“Everything I thought might be useful to you is in here, as well as Brandon’s laptop and my contact information. I haven’t had interaction with his mother in a quarter century, I have no idea where she is or even if she’s still alive.”
Raul took the bag. There was no fear from William Lynch when he spoke of his son, still no changes in heart rate or pulse or body chemistry, nothing to lead Raul to think they might have been discussing anything more than a stolen car. Most people were more upset over stolen vehicles.
“When was the last time you saw Brandon?” Raul asked.
“The Sunday before he disappeared. I know he was at work for part of that week, though I didn’t see him,” Lynch said. “Which is not unusual.”
Huh, no lunch time with Dad.
That didn’t surprise Raul. He twisted and set the bag on his desk and plucked a business card from a little holder, holding it out to William Lynch.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, if you think of any other helpful details call that number. If I have further questions I’ll call you,” Raul said. He moved away from the desk and to the door, opening it for Lynch.
“Thank you.” Lynch held out his hand again and shook Raul’s. “Find my son.”
That last statement was the first bit of genuine emotion Raul had seen from the guy. Raul wasn’t completely convinced Brandon was in some sort of danger. He could easily have a credit card or money his father didn’t know about. For someone like Brandon with natural skills enhanced by training it’d be possible to hide money and his whereabouts. However, not being in danger and hiding from something, possibly in need of help were two different things. He’d hoped if Brandon was in some sort of trouble he’d have come to Raul but understood why Brandon might hesitate. They didn’t know each other that well and if the trouble was illegal, the fact was, to Brandon, Raul was in the same category as a cop or Fed. Either way, Raul would find Brandon, make sure he was well and healthy and if assistance was needed, he’d offer.
Maybe he’d ‘fess up about deeper feelings than he should have for a vacation fling and pen pal.
◆◆◆
“Let me see what you have?” Tadeo—Tad—Ochoa reached across his burger and chili cheese fries for the stack of papers Raul offered. Tad was Raul’s cousin, best friend and while Raul loved his siblings he barely tolerated their company. He adored Tad and there was never enough time spent with him.
Before Raul could answer they were joined by two more people. Tad was one third of the accounting management firm, Green Valley Financials. His partners Sally O’Shea and Fahim Boulos each took a seat. Tad was the forensic accountant of the team. Sally and Fahim handled cost, management, and some investment analysis.
Raul shook his head. “Seriously, an accounting firm owned and run by a lady leprechaun, a jinni and werewolf is almost a cliché.”
“Laddie, do you want our help or not?” Sally held up her hand and waved at the waiter. She was under four-foot-tall, had short stylish hair that was a different color every month and today it was bright orange, and she wore a smart-cut, deep green suit.
“Cut the Irish accent, you were born and raised in this country,” Fahim grumbled. Fahim was Sally’s polar opposite. Big with dark hair pulled into a ponytail, sharp features, and an aura of charm even Raul found hard to resist.
“See what I have to put up with all day?” Tad complained, but he smiled. “They bicker like an old married couple.”
“I need into this laptop.” Raul handed the device across the table to Fahim.
“How, exactly, did a billionaire from Boston decide to come to Arizona to hire someone to find his son? Certainly, there are PIs and bounty hunters in Boston.” Sally finally succeeded in flagging down the waiter.
“He, Brandon, was a client at the club,” Raul said after the waiter was gone. When Tad kicked him under the table he added, “And while he was in the area I showed him around a bit.”
“Do you often sleep with your clients?” Sally asked.
“Once he was done at the club he wasn’t a client and there’s no law against it,” Raul said. “We’re getting off topic. A man is missing. His father gave me a pile of paperwork I don’t understand and a laptop I can’t get into. I’m working some other leads, but I have a gut feeling I need info on that laptop and that it’ll tie into all these,” he thumped the stack of papers and growled, “numbers.”
Tad reached over and patted Raul’s shoulder. “The big, bad wolf here is an action man, not a number researcher.”
Raul snorted a laugh. “That’s what I have you for.”
“Let’s start here, shall we?” Fahim opened the laptop. “I’m not a scintilla, but I have a few tricks in the computing department.” He booted up the computer. “I can’t get inside and see what’s on a computer hard drive the same way a scintilla could, but I can pull some information out.” Resting his hands palms flat on the keyboard Fahim took a few deep breaths.
“Don’t break it,” Raul said.
Fahim gave him an annoyed look and shook his head. “Oh, ye of little faith.” He gripped the edges of the monitor and leaned forward, touching his forehead to the screen and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
“Do I have to make a wish?” Raul quipped.
Tad barked a laugh, Sally shook her head and Fahim grumbled, “Jerk.”
Raul turned his attention from Fahim to Sally and Tad. They’d scooted their chairs over so they were almost touching and sat with their heads close going through the papers.
“Follow the money,” Sally said.
“You’re gonna want to write this down,” Fahim said.
Raul opened the small notebook he’d brought.
“Shoot.”
“Capital JX33 lower case zoptt 924.” Fahim turned the laptop around so Raul could see the screen. The password was glowing ag
ainst the background. After a few seconds it faded away.
“How the hell do you do that?” Raul asked.
Fahim grinned and spread his arms wide. “It’s magic, dude. The computer password is ‘knots’, that other one is for his e-mail.”
Why wasn’t Raul surprised by the computer’s main passcode? It also led him to believe Brandon had likely kept his fetish, and vacation plans, a secret. Which in turn made him wonder how the elder Mr. Lynch knew the details that he did.
Raul jotted down his musings and questions on a separate page of his notebook. While Raul searched through Brandon’s e-mails, personal notes and a file marked ‘blog posts’, Fahim and Sally helped Tad comb through the financial documents Brandon’s father had given Raul. He re-read all the e-mails Brandon had sent. None of them offered any clues to point to any trouble Brandon might be having. In fact, his final e-mail to Raul was lamenting the harsh winter they were experiencing up north.
They were still there when the lights strung around the patio glowed to life. Dinner was ordered, then dessert and a little later some late-night snacks.
Finally, the restaurant staff began closing things down.
Raul leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He flagged down one of the waiters and handed over a credit card.
“Thanks for putting up with us.”
“Always a pleasure,” The waiter said, then smiled and nodded before he disappeared into the restaurant. He was back a few minutes later with their bill. Raul made sure to leave him a generous tip.
“Everything here leads back to one company. It’s probably the only actual business and not a shell company,” Sally explained as she packed the papers in her bag. “In the morning I’ll start looking into what all these companies do, or supposedly do.”
“As far as I can tell they don’t do anything, other than launder money.” Tad clapped Raul’s shoulder and stood up at the same time. “What’s your next step?”
“A number of his e-mails are from someone—or a group of someones—not far from here.” Raul closed the laptop and sighed.
“Spill. What else is there?” Tad prompted.
Raul held up one hand when he saw the waiter returning with his receipt. He signed it, adding, “Please let the owners and rest of the staff know how much we appreciate this.” After the waiter had left them again, Raul said softly, “There were e-mails in the draft folders to me, asking for help, and a few other… personal comments. He—” Raul’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath, then wiped his hand over his face. “I should’ve tried… I didn’t do anything about the fact he broke off contact with me.”
“Hey, you couldn’t possibly know anything was wrong. I’d have thought the guy ghosted me too. It happens, probably more than people like to admit and is sorta embarrassing,” Tad said.
“Thank you for that.” Raul stood up. “I need to find him.”
Raul wasn’t going to stop looking until he found Brandon.
Chapter 4
Brandon shuddered and tried to hunch farther in on himself to conserve body heat. It was useless.
He was yanked back so he sat straight, and a man’s voice snarled, “Get into that system, now.”
Brandon tried to duck the blow to the back of his head he knew was coming, but it was impossible.
Never in his life had Brandon used his magic to hurt another living thing. His current situation had him completely prepared to break that rule.
Icy water was dumped over Brandon, making him shiver even more. Raul’s half joke about swimming with him came to mind. Brandon rammed his palms against the table, shoving his chair back and twisted to his feet so fast that Bill—they all had names like Bill, Bob and Tom—was splattered with water droplets. Holding his hands slightly apart, Brandon arched a charge of blue electricity between his fingers and lunged at Bill. He had no idea if the guy had enough water on him to do damage when he was hit with Brandon’s electricity, but it was all he had right now.
The blunt end of a wooden pole was rammed into his ribs, forcing him off balance and slamming his hip into the table edge.
“Cut it out!” Tom shouted.
More cold water was thrown onto him. He wiped the nearly freezing water out of his eyes and shook it from his hands. “This computer won’t take being dowsed in water as well as I do,” Brandon snapped.
“Then get to work.” Tom gave Brandon’s ribs another vicious jab.
Brandon slumped into his chair and pulled it to the computer.
“Not having to work naked and freezing would make things go a lot faster,” Brandon said and hoped his voice didn’t sound like the whimper he felt. He rested his hands on the keyboard. “This’ll go easier and quicker if you tell me what the fuck I’m looking for. Or did you forget from the last dozen times I’ve asked?”
“Stop mouthing off.” Bill hit Brandon across the back of his head. Brandon didn’t care, they’d hit him so much he expected it. “The export schedule for the next ten days.” Pain bloomed along the back of Brandon’s head and snaked down his neck as Bill hit him again. “Trucks and flights.”
Brandon inched the fingers of one hand to one of the USB ports. A printer near the computer came to life, and sheets of paper with the required information rolled out. When the printer went quiet, Brandon was roughly grabbed and hauled out of the chair. Tom and Bob dragged Brandon between them to the room they’d been keeping him in. He tried to keep up and move his feet to keep pace with them but couldn’t, causing his toes and tops of his feet to scrape along the cement floor. Brandon was thrown inside, skinning his knees on the rough floor. The door was slammed shut behind him and locked.
He tried to rub away the sting from the abrasions on his feet and knees. Even trying to massage the wounded skin with a low-level wave of electricity didn’t help.
The room—cell—where Brandon and five teens were being kept hadn’t changed in his absence. There were glass block windows set into the cinderblock walls near the ceiling and one small sink and toilet in a corner. The sink was plastic, the toilet porcelain and the plumbing PVC pipe. Thin, filthy mattresses were scattered around the concrete floor, no frames. There was nothing that Brandon could use as a conductor, even the door lock was made of non-conductive metal and encased in a wooden cage. He couldn’t break a lock he couldn’t electrify and he couldn’t get his hands on it to melt it.
Five others were in the room with him. Right now, there were three girls and two boys, all between thirteen and fifteen years old. Unlike Brandon, who was completely naked they had on underwear.
Every time Brandon pulled shipping schedules out for the three men, the kids were taken away. A day or two later after he searched for police reports and missing children another batch of kids would arrive. This was the third set. He had a good idea what was going on and was determined to try to stop these kids from being shipped away.
When the last group was taken he’d tried to stop what was happening but received a beating and needle full of sedative for his trouble. The three men holding them captive were afraid of Brandon, that much was clear. Since the last group of kids, Brandon’s food had been laced with something as well. The drugs added to his captors’ routine of moving his chair while he was inside the digital world, keeping him foggy, sluggish and off balance. The feeling was even beginning to bleed over into his sleep, disrupting what little rest he could get. Judging by how placid these kids were, Brandon reasoned their food was spiked as well. They were all too docile for five frightened kids. Hell, he was a frightened kid, but he was the only person who could possibly help them.
Two of the girls stayed in a corner, holding tightly to each other and watching Brandon with wary eyes. The two boys sat on either side of them, knees hugged as close to their chests as possible. Each new group meant Brandon was held in this place that much longer. He’d tried to bond with the first group of teens. All of them would huddle together for warmth and comfort until he was returned after one of Bill, Bob and Tom’s ‘sessions’. Br
andon immediately fell into a restless, nightmare riddled sleep and woke up to screaming cellmates, his own screams and scorch marks on the mattress beneath him. That was the first time in more than a decade Brandon had lost control and discharged in a dream state.
Brandon had become a danger to himself and those around him.
His control over his electricity had degraded to the point it was tenuous at best and he didn’t want to hurt these kids. So, he made sure each group knew what he was and to stay clear at all times. He couldn’t hurt them as long as he wasn’t close enough to touch them.
There was always one girl in each group who didn’t seem afraid. She dribbled water from the sink into a dingy, plastic cup and set it beside the one mattress that was separated from the others then backed away without taking her eyes off Brandon. He knew he was losing his grip on reality when he kept thinking this same girl was always in there with him, only each time she was slightly different, hair length, skin tone, eye shape, something was always changed. The room swirled, making Brandon stumble toward the mattress and lose his train of thought.
He drank the water, nodding his thanks to the girl then curled up on the mattresses and tried to get warm. The building was in the desert, there was no air conditioning and they sweltered during the day. At night the temperature dropped far enough that heat was replaced by chill. It was the cycle Brandon had been living through for days. He had no idea how long he’d been there, though he suspected it was less than two weeks from the dates on some of the documents he pulled off the internet.
Sinking into his head was how Brandon survived. Raul became his safe place. Never mind, he barely knew the man, and all his interactions after his one week in Arizona were via e-mail. It didn’t matter that he’d probably never see Raul again or that he wasn’t going to somehow, miraculously, know Brandon was in trouble and arrive to help.
Scintilla Page 4
