Page 81 of Catalyst
“I’m coming with you. Something about this isn’t sitting right with me.” Matthew stands from his chair, and we plan to meet at my house in a few minutes.
My stomach is turning as I pull into my driveway. These past few weeks have been rough, but something tells me this will be the cherry on top of the shit sundae I’ve been served.
Matthew pulls in a minute later, followed closely by Jeffery. If there’s a stereotypical image for the older, ex-military private investigator, he would be it. With his salt-and-pepper hair buzzed on the sides and a slightly wrinkled button-down from sitting in his car, he’s an intimidating guy. It’s why he’s my go-to guy when I need someone checked out.
The three of us walk into my house, and I lead us into my dining room. I don’t think I’ve used this table once since I moved into the house a few years ago.
Jeffery sets a folder down in front of me, and I open it to find Ellie’s background check on top. “I ran Elliana’s—”
“She prefers Ellie,” I interrupt.
“Apologies. I ran Ellie’s background, and nothing popped, so I started digging into her internship. I felt like you’d be okay with me spending a little extra time on this, and it’s a good thing I did.”
“You had Ellie checked out?” Matthew’s eyebrows threaten to get lost behind his dark hair.
His question reminds me that he has no idea about Ellie’s history. “Matthew, you’re going to learn things about Ellie’s history that she isn’t going to want you to know. I’d ask you to leave, but you need to be here to keep me from doing something I would regret later.”
Matthew looks at me with a million questions in his eyes, and then he nods without asking any of them. It makes me love him all the more.
“Who was the asshole who hurt her?” I ask Jeffery.
“Clifford Byrnes Junior.”
I stand from my chair so quickly that it tips over backward. “That fucking asshole.”
“Fuck,” Matthew whispers. He stands to grab my arm, either in comfort or in an effort to keep me from leaving the room. Likely both, if he’s reading my body language correctly.
“There’s more,” Jeffery says, bringing my focus back to him. I sit down, prepared for the worst. “This is why I wanted some extra time to gather all the information I could. She isn’t the only one he assaulted. I was able to find evidence of his crimes going back as early as his college years. And it likely started before that. I just wasn’t able to prove it.”
“Jesus Christ.” Matthew runs his hands through his hair. “How has he gotten away with this shit for so long?”
“That’s the other piece we need to discuss. Clifford Senior has paid off and effectively gagged every woman Junior has assaulted. It took some inventive questions, but I got a few of the women Junior assaulted to confirm that Clifford Senior was the one to keep them from going to the police.”
“Is there enough for an arrest?” I ask.
“Yes, and it’s already been sent to my contact in Greensboro. She won’t allow this to get buried just because Byrnes is a prominent figure in the community.”
“Good.” I nod my head.
“There’s something else you need to know.”
“How can there be more?” Matthew asks.
“The texts that Ellie has received came from Junior. They originated from a burner phone, and, at first, I didn’t think I’d get more than that until my guy managed to trace the cell back to a store in Greensboro, and I confirmed with the clerk that Junior bought the phone. Don’t ask me how he traced the phone. I have no clue.”
“It wasn’t Linda?” My stomach twists. If Junior was the one sending those texts, Ellie could be in more danger than we originally believed.
“No. I’ve had eyes on Junior for the past week…” Jeffery opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again.
“What?”
“My guys followed Junior and Senior to a hotel where Ellie was seen entering, as well. I don’t have any further information other than she seemed shaken up when she returned to her car.”
My fists clench on the table. “She’d never go there willingly. If she knew that Junior would be there, she would have refused to meet them. When was this?”
“Last Friday night.”
Matthew’s head whips to me. “She quit that Monday.”
