Page 116 of The Wrong Man

“Then let’s get started.”

She picks up the phone and begins calling people. I listen as she speaks to contact after contact, her voice shifting between warm familiarity and cold authority depending on who’s on the other end. It’s impressive watching her work. Dylan told me she left the life behind, but watching her now, I can see the life never truly left her.

During the fourth call, she covers the mouthpiece and looks at me.

“I’ve got a possible location. A house in Richmond that Declan’s been renting under a false name. One of my contacts saw armed men coming and going.” Her eyes are sharp. “It’s not confirmed, but it’s the best lead we have.”

Richmond. Expensive, quiet, the kind of place where neighbors mind their own business. Exactly where Declan would go to ground.

She ends her call.

“I need that address,” I say.

“You’ll have it. But first, I’m calling Sean and Teagan. They need to know what’s happening, and they’ll want to help.”

I want to argue, want to grab the address and go charging in right now. But Moira is right. Other people love Dylan too, and they deserve to be a part of this.

“Fine,” I say. “But quickly. Every minute Dylan spends with Declan is a minute too long.”

She nods and dials another number. I hear a male voice answer, panicked and breathless.

“Moira? Is there news? Have they found him?”

“Sean, love, I need you to listen carefully. I’ve got someone here who knows where Dylan is. I need you and Teagan to come to my house right away.”

There’s a muffled conversation on the other end, then Sean’s voice again, stronger now. “We’re on our way. Twenty minutes.”

Moira hangs up and turns back to me. “They’re good kids. Loyal. They’ve been putting up flyers, talking to the police, doing everything they can think of to find him.” She pauses. “They don’t know about you. About what you do. I think it’s best if we keep it that way, at least for now.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll tell them you’re a friend of Dylan’s who has connections. That you’ve been helping search for him. They don’t need to know the details.”

I nod. The fewer people who know about my profession, the better.

We wait in tense silence. Moira makes tea, seemingly more out of habit than hospitality, and I accept a cup I have no intention of drinking. The photo of Dylan on the mantelpiece keeps drawing my eye. He looks so young in it, so happy. So different from the man I untied from my chair after I tortured him.

I wonder if he’ll ever look that carefree again. I wonder if I’ve destroyed something that can never be rebuilt.

The doorbell rings. Moira goes to answer it, and a moment later two young people burst into the sitting room. The man is tall and broad, with worried eyes and flour still dusting his forearms. The woman is smaller, dark-haired, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

Sean and Teagan. Dylan’s people. His real family, the one he chose for himself.

“Where is he?” Sean demands, looking at me with a mixture of hope and suspicion. “Moira said you know where Dylan is. Is he okay? Who took him?”

“His brother,” I say. “Declan. It’s a family matter that got out of hand.”

Teagan’s face darkens. “That bastard. Dylan told us about him. Said he was dangerous, said he’d cut all ties years ago.”

“Declan came back. He took Dylan, and I’ve been trying to find him ever since.”

“Who are you?” Sean asks, still suspicious. “How do you know Dylan? He never mentioned anyone named Dante.”

I glance at Moira, who gives me a subtle nod.

“We met recently,” I say carefully. “Through mutual acquaintances. We... grew close. And now I’m going to get him back.”

Sean studies me for a long moment. Whatever he sees in my face must be convincing, because some of the tension leaves his shoulders.