Chapter 3 - The Father Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Henry Hollister had been dead for six years.
That was what Paige had been told.
A workplace accident.
A fire in a warehouse.
No body recovered.
No funeral because there was nothing to bury.
Ruth had always said the uncertainty was worse than death.
Now Cain was telling her the man was alive.
Paige demanded proof.
Cain gave her a photograph.
It showed a gray-haired man entering a medical clinic in Newark.
The date was three weeks earlier.
Paige dropped into a chair.
“That’s him.”
Cain watched her carefully.
“You’re certain?”
“My father had a scar above his left eyebrow.”
The photograph was grainy.
But the scar was there.
Paige began to cry.
She hated herself for it.
She hated that six years of grief could be overturned by one photograph.
“Where is he?”
“We’re finding out.”
Paige wanted to go immediately.
Cain refused.
“We don’t know if it’s a trap.”
“It’s my father.”
“And you have a daughter.”
“I am not staying here while you decide my life.”
Cain’s eyes hardened.
“I’m not deciding your life. I’m keeping you alive long enough to have one.”
They argued for twenty minutes.
Bianca watched from the hall.
Something in Cain’s expression changed when Paige became angry.
Most people became smaller when Cain raised his voice.
Paige became louder.
Finally he said, “You are stubborn.”
She folded her arms.
“You are controlling.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“You keep calling it protection because control sounds worse.”
Bianca almost smiled.
Cain noticed.
“Do you find this funny?”
“A little.”
He glared.
Bianca disappeared down the hall.
The search for Henry led them to a small private clinic operating under another name.
Cain entered with Paige.
The moment Henry saw his daughter, he stopped breathing.
“Paige.”
She ran to him.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Henry touched her face.
“You grew up.”
Paige cried harder.
“You were alive.”
“I had to stay away.”
“You let us think you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
Her voice broke.
“You always had a choice.”
Henry looked ashamed.
Cain remained several feet away.
Henry noticed him.
“You’re the Drestler boy.”
Cain’s expression changed.
“Luca’s brother.”
Henry nodded.
“Your brother tried to save people.”
Cain’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“No.”
Henry looked at him.
“You know he died.”
Cain stepped forward.
“Then tell me why.”
Henry hesitated.
“Because Victor ordered it.”
The name cut through the room.
“Your uncle wanted control of everything.”
Henry continued.
“He needed Luca gone. He needed the records destroyed. He needed Ruth silent.”
Cain's hands tightened.
“Why did you survive?”
“Because someone helped me escape.”
“Who?”
Henry looked toward Ruth’s daughter.
“Your mother.”
Paige stared.
“My mother helped you?”
“She helped everyone.”
Then Henry revealed the final piece.
The trafficking operation had never been limited to Drestler shipping.
There was a network of private clinics, shelters, transport companies, and charitable organizations.
Ruth had spent years documenting it.
Paige’s social work program had unknowingly placed her close to several of those organizations.
Her internship case files contained names connected to the network.
Cain realized why the men were hunting her.
They believed Paige had inherited more than a key.
They believed she had access to information.
“They think your mother passed the records to you.”
“She didn’t.”
Cain looked at Henry.
“Did she?”
Henry said nothing.
Paige stared at her father.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Henry took a breath.
“Your mother hid the main evidence before she disappeared.”
“Where?”
“In the one place nobody would expect.”
He looked at Paige.
“Your school.”
Paige frowned.
“My school?”
“Your mother knew that someday you would study social work.”
“How?”
“She arranged it.”
Paige felt cold.
“My mother planned my life?”
“She planned a path where you would be able to recognize the evidence without knowing you were looking for it.”
Cain finally understood.
The nonprofit organizations Paige had studied.
The casework she had completed.
The names she had thought were unrelated.
They were pieces of one network.
And the reason she worked so hard was not only to pay bills.
She had been unknowingly collecting the trail.
That evening, Cain sat with Paige at the kitchen table.
“You can leave,” he said.
She looked at him.
“What?”
“You can take Meadow and disappear.”
“And you?”
“I deal with Victor.”
Paige studied him.
“You want me to run.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you looking at me like you hope I stay?”
Cain was silent.
Paige stood.
“I’m not running.”
“Paige.”
“My father lied to me. My mother lied to me. Someone tried to kill us. I am done being the person everyone protects by keeping her ignorant.”
Cain stared at her.
“I want the truth.”
He nodded.
“Then we get it together.”
It was the first time he had said together.
Neither of them commented on it.
Three nights later, the townhouse was attacked.
Cain was ready.
Shots cracked through the darkness.
Bianca moved Paige and Meadow into the safe room.
Reed fought the attackers downstairs.
Cain moved through the house like a shadow.
After twenty minutes, the gunfire stopped.
One attacker remained alive.
Cain dragged him into the kitchen.
Paige saw the man's face.
She knew him.
“He works at my college.”
Cain turned.
“What?”
“He was in my social work seminar.”
The man laughed through bloodied teeth.
“You people really think you understand what you’re looking at.”
Cain stepped closer.
“Who sent you?”
The man grinned.
“Ask the flower shop.”
Paige went still.
Verbena Lane.
The place she had trusted.
The place that paid her cash.
The place that knew every route she drove.
Cain looked at her.
“You have to stop working there.”
Paige stared at him.
May you like
“But why?”
“Because someone may have been using you as a courier for years.”
