Page 12 of Paths
Weston MacLachlan –
Upstate New York
“Yeah?” I answer a call as I pull onto my parents’ property. I just wrapped my meeting with our main supplier’s contact and need to fill in my dad and his lieutenants on my idea. It’s fucking brilliant if I say so myself. It’ll give us the ability to triple our shipments, maybe quadruple them, if we’re lucky.
“You about here? Your dad wants to sit down, has something he needs to talk about,” the recruit, Trevor, says.
“I’m pulling in now—I’ve got a meeting with him and Byron. I just got done with our contacts from the south.”
“Byron’s not here, but Jeff is. They’re anxious to see you and said to be fast.”
I don’t get a chance to answer, Trevor disconnects before I can ask what in the hell’s going on. Then again, he wouldn’t know. I was right where he was two years ago. Even though I’m my father’s son, he only cut me a few breaks. I had to earn my position the way everyone else has.
I have no idea why they’re in a rush to talk, they knew I was on my way. Even though it’s my dad and it shouldn’t make me anxious, I wonder what the fucking hurry is.
I pull up the circle drive and park at the front door. Letting myself into my childhood home, I’m greeted by Jean, who’s worked for my parents since before I was born.
“Mr. Weston, it’s good to see you. Shall I tell your mother you’re here? She’s in the kitchen.” Jean smiles as I lean in to kiss her cheek.
“I’ll find her before I leave. I need to speak with my dad first.”
“I’ll let her know.” She takes my jacket and heads for the closet as I go to my father’s office near the front of the house.
He’s sitting behind his desk and one of his lieutenants, Jeff, is standing beside him.
I give my father a curious look because I don’t report to Jeff, and the air is tense. “Thought I had a meeting with you and Byron.”
“Byron’s on a job for me.” My father looks up at Jeff and I swear there’s a silent communication there I don’t like. When he looks back to me, he continues carefully. “Tell us about your meeting first.”
I try to relax and not worry about the unknown elephant in the room, but it’s not easy. “I pitched my idea and they like it. John Deer tractors—antique ones. I’ve researched it, they’re not too hard to find and we don’t need them working. We look like we’re refurbishing them, but gut them instead—the entire thing—leaving only a shell. Some are huge and when completely emptied, will leave massive amounts of real estate for storage.”
My father tips his head, rubbing his jaw with his thumb. His brows draw together when he asks, “Transport?”
“We get a flatbed trailer with a cab, not old but not new, just nondescript. All with legit Midwest plates, no one’ll be the wiser. We’ll look like a farmer, a collector, a hobbyist, someone wanting to refurbish them. It’s time to pull out of Miami. With the threat of terrorism, the shipping industry is tight. We need to utilize the border. Easier payoffs, more traffic on a daily basis, and with the tractors, we have a way to cross in plain sight. Importing bananas might’ve worked for the last decade, but our people were picked off twice in the past five months. Our luck’s gonna run out soon, Dad. Someone’s gonna give us up. We need a new way.”
My father’s jaw tenses. He’s never liked change. “The bananas are legitimate income—we need that to funnel the rest of the money through. We can’t give that up.”
“I didn’t say give it up,” I answer. “I’m saying stop moving the heroin through the bananas for now. Find a different way to transport. If the border gets tight, we can move back, that system is set up and ready. We should at least try—mix it up. It’s time to diversify the transportation. With the tractors coming across on trailer, we can deliver to different spots along the way. Who knows, maybe we can diversify later.”
My father looks up at Jeff, who gives him a tip of his head. Even though I don’t report to him, I know Jeff is progressive and open to change. Although it doesn’t take much to be progressive in comparison to Ronald MacLachlan.
My dad nods slowly and finally concedes. “We’ll start small and give it a try. You’ve got the go ahead for three tractors. Get them to the warehouse and make sure they’re prepped and sealed so the dogs don’t tip us off. I fucking hate drug dogs.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I nod, but don’t get the chance to enjoy it for long when my dad keeps talking. He leans forward and Jeff turns to walk around the desk, coming close. Confused and not liking him standing over me, I rise defensively, looking back across the desk to my dad. “What the fuck?”
“Relax. We need to talk to you, but you need to keep your shit together.” My dad lowers his voice in the way that commands attention. I’ve heard it my entire life, but it’s different now that I’ve been brought into the fold.
I clench my jaw, trying to control myself.
Dad gives Jeff a meaningful stare and a nod of his head before looking back to me. “Son, we found her. She’s okay.”
I know instantly who she is, because it doesn’t matter what I’m doing or who I’m with, she’s in my every thought.
Maya.
They found her.
I exhale, feeling all the air leave my body as relief replaces it, flowing through me. They found her and she’s safe—my Maya. No matter what happened, no matter if she insisted it was over between us, there was no way I was letting her go. I just need time to convince her of that, and I thought I had. I thought I was making headway with her, but then I realized she was faking it when she up and disappeared. No note, no clues, no trail, no communication with her family. Not even her brother.
