Hush (Black Lotus #3)(56)

“Looking at family portraits,” I respond, and he tilts his head in curiosity.

When he sits next to me, I can smell the cardamom from his shampoo. Even in the midst of everything going on around us and our quarrel this morning, I feel the need to be close to him.

He is already sliding the computer from my lap when he asks, “Where did you find these?”

“It’s his son’s social media page.”

“His son? How did you even know how to find this?”

“Because I followed them. I got his name from his sister, Hailey.”

“I need you to tell me what happened this morning.”

“Can you control your anger?” I snark, to which he responds, “You’re testing your limits today with that smart mouth of yours. Tell me what happened.”

I go through everything that occurred, from following the car to what was said between Hailey and me.

“You shouldn’t have ever approached that girl,” he scolds. “She’s just a kid.”

“There are worse monsters out there than me, Declan. If I could handle my life at eleven, then surely she can handle a conversation in a smoothie shop.”

“That girl is a part of your dad.”

I look at him, angry that he would go there, and snap, “But I’m all of him.”

“I’m on your side here.”

“Then stop defending that family.”

“I need you to see things rationally though,” he says.

“Nothing about this whole situation is rational, Declan.”

He backs off and turns his attention back to the computer, scrolling through the photos. When there’s one I want to look at, I tell him to stop. It isn’t until a few more photos pass that I realize the kid tags his location when he posts.

“Scroll slowly,” I murmur to Declan when I lean in to get a closer look.

“What are you doing?”

“He tags his location in his pictures,” I tell him, and we strike gold. “Stop. Click on that one.”

Declan enlarges a photo of my dad and his son that has the comment: Spending my day at work with Dad.

“Enterprise Brokerage and Realty,” Declan reads off.

Declan opens up another window and types the business name into the search bar, and up pops their website with my father’s picture on the main page.

“He runs his own firm,” he says. “We’ve got a point of contact now.”

“Do we just call him?”

“No. We need to find a way to get him to come to us. But, listen, we have to be careful about this. Whatever he’s hiding from is big. I mean, your case worker, a state employee, came to you and told you he died. The man even has a grave site, right?”

“Yes. In Illinois,” I say. “I went to the cemetery. He has a gravestone and everything.”

“So, this isn’t some man who just skipped town. This is a man who needed to kill his identity.”

“How do we do this?”

Declan takes a moment to think and then pulls out his phone. “I’ll just schedule a meeting with him. There’s nothing that links you and me that he would be able to find out about. We’ve never even been photographed together.”

I nod, and when he dials, I tell him, “Put it on speakerphone,” because I need to hear his voice.

With each ring, my pulse quickens, and then the line connects.

“Enterprise Brokerage and Realty, how can I help you?”

“Is Asher Corre available?” Declan asks, his accent seeming to catch the woman off guard.

“Oh . . . um, yes. Whom shall I say is calling?” she says, and I roll my eyes at Declan when her whole voice changes in reaction to his voice.

“You can tell him this is Declan McKinnon with McKinnon International Development.”

“Just one moment.”

I’m practically holding my breath while we wait, and then he picks up the call, his voice crystal clear.

“Asher Corre here.”

I bring my hands to cover my mouth when I hear the voice I never thought I’d hear again.

“Good afternoon. This is Declan McKinnon, owner of McKinnon International Development. I have to excuse the short notice, but I’m in town for a few days and was hoping to discuss a possible land purchase for commercial development.”

“What line of commercial development are you in?”

“Hospitality on the high-end scale.”

“So I see. I just pulled you up on my computer. McKinnon, is that of Scottish descent?” he asks Declan, and I can’t believe he’s actually having a conversation with my dad. Declan responds, and then my father continues, “I can start pulling some locations to email you?”

“Call me old-fashioned, but I hope you don’t mind my preference to conduct business in person rather than over the phone. I want to establish that you’re the right man to be working with. After all, if a purchase is made, you’ll be receiving a substantial commission. I want to make sure it’s going to someone with integrity.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. I’ll tell you what, how does your evening look tonight?”

“I have a few emails that need attending to, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Would six o’clock work?”