Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Chapter Fourteen
Octavio
"Ithink I found something."
I glance up from my computer screen to see Captain Franklin standing in the doorway of my office, a sheaf of papers in his hands. His sleeves are rolled up his forearms and his Navy-blue tie hangs loose around his neck.
"What?"
He pulls the door closed before dropping down into a chair across from my desk. "You ever heard of Teddy Jackson?"
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"He played for the Tennessee Tornadoes before he was traded to the Sabres in 1999," Franklin says. "Could have helped lead the team to their first championship in years if he hadn't blown his knee halfway through the season. He was a damn good defensive end. No one could get through him."
I frown, turning the name over in my mind, but still come up with nothing. I have always been more of a Colonials fan, and they won the championship game that year. If memory serves, the Sabres didn't even make it to the playoffs after several players were injured…but I don't remember who any of them were. I was only eleven at the time, and Alivia had just disappeared.
"Still doesn't ring a bell," I admit.
"He left the sport that year. Went on to run a company that created more lightweight protective gear. In the last decade, most professional teams have switched to the stuff his company designed. From what I've read, it's cheaper and more effective."
"Still don't recall the name," I mutter.
"I don't suppose it matters if you remember him or not," he says, waving me off. "The point is, he was popular with the ladies. Football stars usually are."
I snort because he's right. When I played college ball, women threw themselves at me and my teammates like we were offering salvation. A lot of guys fell into the trap. I wasn't as easily ensnared. I had more important things on my mind, like looking after my father after mom passed. Football wasn't ever a way of life for me. It was merely something I enjoyed doing.
"Even after he retired, women flocked to him. A few years later, there were reports that he had a kid with a fan. That in and of itself wasn't a big deal, but there were also reports that he'd taken custody of the baby. He died suddenly a few years later. Brain aneurysm."
"You think he's Faith's father."
Franklin hands over the sheaf of papers in his hands. They're all news articles about Teddy Jackson. "His real name was Theodore Jackson," he says as I skim through them. "The timeline matches. I'm not saying it's him, but he might be worth looking into."
I nod, my eyes transfixed on a photo of Jackson he printed out. The man was built like a human tank with broad shoulders and a wide body. He was also tall, almost six-three. "They have the same eyes," I mutter to Franklin. Like Faith, Jackson had wide honey-colored eyes, and a slightly rounded, heart-shaped face. It's not enough to say for sure that he was her father, but it's compelling enough to pique my interest. "Does he have any family?"
"He had a sister who died two years ago. His mother is still alive, but from what I've been able to find, she's in a care facility for Alzheimer's in Tennessee."
"Mierda." I glance up at him. "Have you found anything on her mother?"
Ever since Faith told me where her mother was a couple days ago, we've been looking into her, trying to track the bitch down. I've also been making my way through Faith's notes on Tarasova's people. She knows a hell of a lot more about them than I think she realizes. That notebook, combined with what we already have on them, might just be enough to cut them down at the knees. I just need to fit all the pieces together.
I try to skip anything about what they did to her. She's told me a little bit. Enough to make my blood boil. The things they did to her…Dios, she lived a waking nightmare. Hearing her tell me the rest is going to kill me, but I think she needs to say the words out loud. Until she does, those memories will continue to haunt her. I'm not pushing her though, instead letting her share what she wants, when she wants.
Franklin shakes his head, scowling like he's frustrated by the fact that he hasn't gotten anything solid on her mother yet. I'm not surprised though. Carmen Donovan lived off the kindness of whatever man she was sleeping with at the time, most of whom were small-time cartel members…not exactly people who like to leave behind a trail to follow. "If she and Alexei Palatov are in Canada, they're flying under the radar."
I grunt, not surprised he hasn't found anything on them. If Palatov was smart enough to skim hundreds of thousands of dollars from Tarasova without getting caught, I'm guessing he's also smart enough to keep himself hidden. He has to know they won't give up looking for him. The Bratva has a long reach and an even longer memory.