Chapter 71

Sarah POV

It was still quite early in the morning. Police cars and ambulances were everywhere. I saw some tech-oriented vehicles too. Oddly, there was no sign of the press.

I should have sat up right away and removed myself from Zane, but I was still emotionally exhausted, and his arms were comforting and warm. I sighed.

“I don’t want to move either,” Zane said, sounding a little amused. But then he sighed too. “What a mess. They’ll be sorting out this case for months, maybe years.”

“How much will it damage the reputation of the pack?”

“I’m not sure at this point. We’ve already gotten evidence that more than just my pack has been involved, but ironically enough it’s that the pack has prospered so well that there’s been enough money and power to arrange it all.”

“Do they know how long it’s been going on?”

“Less than five years, more than three. Another problem is that some of the slaves here were involved in other rings previously. It seems a ring sets up for a while and then moves elsewhere to keep the neighbors and authorities from getting suspicious.”

“Those poor people,” I said, thinking of those terrified faces.

“What I really want to know is how the Children’s Hunger Bank got involved. I know Shaton was in a position of power, but the charity’s been around for almost twenty years, and it’s done some truly impressive work.”

“Will it be destroyed by this, do you think?”

“Not if I can help it.” Zane sounded determined. “I’ve already got a lawyer on looking into the financials. Rob Shanton’s left things in a purposeful mess, it looks like.”

“I wish Zara could have killed him twice.”

Zane was quiet, so I turned my head up to look at him.

“A little bloodthirsty, don’t you think?” he asked.

“You’re a werewolf. You don’t get to say that of a human.”

“That’s a stereotype,” he said, but I could see the gallows humor on his lips.

I snorted and sat up. I could see dozens of people outside, but then my view was obstructed as Ollie walked up to the window, which I rolled down.

“Sorry about leaving you in the car,” he told us. “The police have so many questions for you they wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Not even just to shower and have some coffee?” I asked.

“I brought a change of clothes for you both,” he said. “They’ve finished looking through several of the rooms, including your suite. You can shower there, and I’ll get you coffee.”

Zane and I looked at each other in resignation.

“I suppose we should be grateful we’re not being held at the station,” Zane said.

I won’t lie. It was all I could manage to step foot back in the building. But then I was helped by all the bright lights that had been set up and, to my surprise, some walls that had been removed to reveal hidden passageways.

“H.H. Holmes,” I muttered.

“What?” Zane asked as we walked over to the elevators. A number of the police officers and crime scene investigators met our eyes, nodding and looking solemn, as we passed through the lobby.

“H.H. Holmes was a serial killer in the late nineteenth century,” I explained as we made our way into an elevator. “His body count isn’t really known, but he killed a lot and set himself up in what was called ‘murder castle’ in Chicago with secret hallways and trap doors so he could kill people in elaborate ways.”

“Sounds horrific.”

“Some of it may be more sensationalism than history, but even only what they could confirmed is terrifying. I never thought I’d get caught up in something like it.”

The elevator stopped at our floor and opened. I couldn’t keep myself from reaching for Zane’s hand as we stepped into the hall. He squeezed it reassuringly.

Agent Travis was standing outside the door to our suite. “Sorry about the car thing,” he said by way of greeting. “It was as much a matter of keeping this out of the press as wanting you for questioning. They were even irritated the girls and the dog had been sent to the villa.”

“You think you’re going to keep this out of the news?” I asked in plain disbelief.

He shrugged. “We’re going to give it a damn good try.” He opened the door to the suite. “I’ll be out here while you change and shower, and they’re sending up coffee.”

“Thank you, Travis,” Zane said with open gratitude.

I echoed him and stepped into the suite. I found my brown suit, a blouse, and the shoes I usually wore with the suit on the bed as I walked into the bathroom. In the shower, I was torn between the desire to bask in the cleansing hot water and the burning desire to get out of the building.

I opted for a quick wash, dressed myself, and came into the main room where Zane wordlessly placed a mug of hot coffee in my hands. I nodded and sipped, almost feeling human again.

Zane opened the door and invited Travis into the room, though I noticed he didn’t close the door after him, leaving the escape route open. Somehow, the fact that Zane was as uneasy as I was was reassuring.

“Sarah and I are concerned, well, we’re concerned with about a hundred things at this point,” Zane told him. “But we were talking about the Children’s Hunger Bank.”

“I understand,” he said. “It’s done a lot of good work and is so well funded, it might be able to survive this scandal.”

“I thought you were going to keep it out of the press,” I said.

He shrugged again. “For as long as possible, but this is going to leak out sooner or later. If we can make it later, though, we can control the narrative at least in part.”

Zane nodded and asked him, “You’ve still found no evidence the money from the slaves was going to the charity?”

“Still none, and I’m expecting it to stay that way. The charity was just a front. Shanton appears to have run it and the slavery ring as two separate businesses.”

“Let’s try to stress that as much as possible,” Zane said.

“How about the other direction?” I asked.

Travis looked at me. “Was any money taken from the charity to fund the slavery ring.”

He shook his head. “We’ll look into it, but I seriously doubt it. The ring made a minimum of $2,000,000 last night.”

I frowned. It hadn’t sounded like that much last night.

“Turn out it’s understood that for the slaves a thousand was really ten thousand.”

“The real issue for the charity is that Shanton was such a public face for the charity,” Zane said. “We need to divorce him from the Children’s Hunger Bank as much as possible.” He looked at me narrowly.

“What?”

“Maybe you can help with that. You’re already getting fame for your status in the pack and the acceptance of the Luna Temple. We could set you up as the savior of the charity.”

“Sounds a little daunting,” I confessed. I wanted to say, “Hell, no,” so I congratulated myself on my composure.

Zane nodded, but I could tell a new thought distracted him. He turned to Travis.

“I take it you’re not mentioning anything about it because there’s been no progress on finding Scott?”

Travis shook his head. “He’s disappeared.”

“We need to make his arrest as public as possible,” Zane muttered, then frowned when Travis looked uncomfortable. “What is it?”

“Scott never actually acknowledged to you that he knew what was going on here?” the agent asked.

“I suppose not in so many words.”

Travis’s lips went firm. “We’ve found no evidence of any financial involvement Scott had with the charity, let alone the slavery ring.”

“Then we’ll get him to confess,” Zane snarled before walking out of the room.