“They’re not local anymore.”
They had managed to plant a few bugs strategically.
Zel looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“I traced the ferry manifest,” Lirian said, already at his laptop, fingers flying across the keys. “There have been suspicious small shipments, off-schedule crossings. This one came in through the Mersey last week. It was a private vessel flagged for maintenance, no customs check. The trail was tricky, but I pulled it.”
He flicked the screen to them, showing grainy footage from a CCTV feed. Dock workers were walking about as a lorry was being offloaded. Lirian pointed to a vent grille on the side of the trailer.
“They were hiding them in a false panel inside the refrigeration unit. There is barely any air circulation, not to mention it is freezing. Like the Swansea case last year.”
Zel swore under his breath. “They’re importing now?” he growled. “Jaysus Christ.”
“They have to,” Lirian said flatly. “Social services are watching. Police are sniffing. The local ‘supply’ must be drying up. So nowthey’re using the Irish Sea routes. Fewer checks and less risk. No one questions a broken freezer truck.”
Thane lifted his head slowly, his eyes hollow. “There’s something else,” he said hoarsely. “There was a woman about our age… Blonde hair with blue eyes. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She came with the kid. Seemed protective of the kid.”
Everyone seemed to freeze at that.
“Trish took the child. Didn’t let me come. And the woman…they loaded her into the van. She didn’t say a word, but she looked at me like she recognized me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you think… Could it be…?”
“Dory?” Maro finished.
It was a question Thane had asked many times. When he saw a head of long blonde hair or blue eyes of a certain shade.
No one knew the answer.
Chapter 19
The drive was long, and Trish said little. Malcolm had sprung this little holiday on him as soon as he walked into the compound.
She sat beside Thane with that same smug, infuriating calm she always wore, like she had a secret only she was privy to. The silence stretched until they crossed into quieter roads as trees blurred past through the tinted glass. Then, suddenly, she spoke, her tone too casual to be innocent. She had slipped a hand between his thighs and was rubbing him through his pants. She made his skin crawl but he couldn’t help react to her touch.
“You’re tense, baby,” she said, picking at a chipped nail. “Want me to take you out back once we get there and suck you off again? Might put you in a better mood.”
Thane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t respond.
From the front, Ricky barked a laugh. “Pass her over here when you’re done, mate. I wouldn’t mind a turn.”
“Fuck off, Ricky,” she said airily while her eyes stayed on Thane. There was a possessive light there—cold and hungry, like he was something she’d already marked.
Still, he let her fingers trail across his thigh.
“Whatever you want, darling,” he said, voice smooth, empty. This was a role he had played before, and he knew his lines well.
Half an hour later, she blindfolded him.
There were no questions or warning. She just slipped the cloth over his eyes and tightened it at the back of his head.
“We need to be cautious here,” she murmured. “You understand.”
He nodded once. They could put him in a body bag, and they still wouldn’t be able to outwit the tracker under his skin. Still, he counted the turns. They’d left Liverpool behind, taken the motorway for maybe ten minutes, and now the road was uneven, winding. The smell of damp earth and pine filtered into his nose.
When the blindfold came off, thick blackout shades had replaced the view.
He sat silently until the vehicle came to a halt. Trish opened the door and stepped out first, heels crunching over gravel.
They were in a woodland, somewhere far from eyes, ears, or help. A lone birdcall sounded from the woods, and cows grazed lazily in the field beyond.
