Fallen Crest Home
Page 33
“We don’t have an exact address, just an idea where it will be.”
“That’s fucked up. We could be driving for hours.”
We hadn’t been. We were an hour north of home, but as Nate said something else to Logan, I turned onto the shore road. Sam had said the cabin was located on this highway, and this area matched Becky’s description—not many houses, so a lot of trees and rocky cliffs. Nate and Logan were still going back and forth when I stopped the vehicle at the end of a driveway. I could see the tops of a white mansion, and the name on the mailbox said Quinn.
“We’re here?” Logan asked.
“I’m taking a wild guess, but yeah.”
“Do we know how we’re getting in?” Nate asked once we were parked. The house was three stories, with a wraparound porch. Logan and I shared a look as we got out and stood in front of the place. It was a cabin. Yeah, it was big and sprawling, but it was still a cabin. The paint was a little worn. I could see a few spider webs on the porch. The place wasn’t kept up, and I’d bet there was no state-of-the-art security system in place either.
Logan hopped up on the porch and rattled the door. “It’s locked.” He glanced back at me.
I gestured around to the back. “Check all the doors. They might have one unlocked—or even a window.”
And we were in luck. The door to the attached garage had been left unlocked, but inside was another door that opened into the house, and that one was locked.
Logan started laughing.
“What?”
He stepped carefully on a rug. “Are you kidding me?” He knelt down and felt under it, pulling out a key. “Fuckers literally left it under the rug. That’s almost as bad as keeping it in one of those fake rocks.”
He unlocked the door, and we went inside. We filtered into the kitchen, and Logan clapped his hands. “Okay, my genius brother. Where do we start?”
Nate flicked on a light over the stove. “They have electricity.”
“So if they have a computer, we can turn it on.”
“Let’s hope they don’t use a password,” Logan added.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe we’ll get lucky again and they’ll have their password written down somewhere.”
“Fuck. They probably will. But for serious, though.” He looked at me. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything that looks illegal?” I wasn’t sure what we were looking for, or if it would even be at this place. I just wanted something in hand to exchange for the favor I needed to ask my dad. I’d need his help dealing with Caldron, and I didn’t want to owe him. “Just look through their files.”
“Got it.” Logan nodded. “We’re thinking of what we would do if we were doing something illegal, like keep incriminating files as a backup in case something happens? Something like that?”
“Would you keep that in your house or office?”
“Where the authorities would go first?” Logan shook his head. “No way, and thinking of that, we need to start using Dad’s old place again. There are lots of good hiding spots for our future illegal endeavors.”
Nate had been rifling through one of the cupboards, but he stopped to grin at us. “Are we future white-collar criminals?”
“Everyone needs to have aspirations.”
Ignoring the joking, I moved down a side hallway and opened a door. “I found the office.”
“Just remember, Mase,” Logan called from the kitchen. “Bigstick is a perfectly acceptable password. Just because you use it, doesn’t mean others won’t.”
“Fuck you,” I called back, but was smiling as I turned on the computer and sat down. When the password screen came up, I rolled my eyes, and typed it in. “Apparently, Steven Quinn doesn’t have a big stick. It’s not the password.”
“Rocket man?” Logan suggested.
Nate added, “Pornstar?”
I typed in Bigstud. And nothing. “Screw it,” I muttered, shuffling through some of the papers on the desk. Inside the drawer, I found one word scribbled down. K45it()rd. It was set apart from all the other notes, and typing that in, I got through.
Logan and Nate were still throwing out ideas. Big Johnson. Big Willy. Womb broom. Yogurt slinger. Taco whisperer. I let them go, and stopped listening.
Mr. Quinn kept a lot of business files on this computer. I looked through everything that seemed related to Fallen Crest, something about business holdings in Roussou, and a whole ton of files about the country club. I was still reading and skimming through them when Logan said my name.
“What?” I looked up.
“You’ve been in here for an hour.”
“I have?”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting us know you got in.” He came around to stand behind me.
“Sorry. I didn’t think you were actually trying to help with the password ideas.”
“Yeah, maybe not.” He tapped my shoulder. “So which one worked? It was yogurt slinger, wasn’t it?”
“Nope.” I clicked on another file titled Payables. “It was taco whisperer.”
“I knew it! What a dirty mind Quinn has.” Logan chuckled. “I bet Quinn junior is just as dirty. Gotta be, if he’s going into politics.”
“Hey!” Nate came into the room, frowning. “You got in and didn’t tell us?”
“It was on a need-to-know basis, Nate, and you didn’t need to know.”
I tuned them out. Logan was going to needle at Nate, which he’d been doing since he got back, and Nate was going to ignore him at first, then shoot insults back or get pissed. That had been their dynamic since we were kids.
“You find anything yet?” Logan asked.
“What?” I looked up, distracted. I’d been staring at a screen of names and numbers, but none of it was making sense. “No.” I pulled out a flash drive and began saving everything. “I’ll just save as much as I can. We can look through it later. Can you guys check any back rooms or the basement for paper files?”
The two shared a look and shrugged.
Maybe coming here had been reaching, but I knew a bit more about Quinn’s business than I had before.
An hour later, we were heading back when Logan read his text messages. “Uh, guys?”
“What?” Nate leaned forward, now the one sitting in the back.
Logan looked up at me, cringing slightly. “We need to head to Roussou.”
“Why?”
I’d told Sam to take Taylor out, and knowing Sam, that meant she’d find Heather. I already had an idea of what he was going to say when I heard him.
“They’re at Channing’s house, and Taylor just texted. Caldron’s there.”
I pressed the accelerator. If we got picked up by a cop, I didn’t care. I needed one to follow me to Channing’s and keep me from killing Caldron, because that was how I felt at the moment.
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening, and we didn’t talk until I braked outside Channing’s place.
I was running for the house not even a second later, with Logan right behind me.
Everything started out fine. It was fun, even.
Taylor and I finished a bottle of wine by the time Heather joined us, and all she did was pack a bunch more in a box, and then we were in the car. The party was at Channing’s, as his little sister was gone for the weekend. It was actually in the building behind their house, which was a safe distance away from any nosy neighbors. We were in the kitchen making margaritas when the first of Channing’s friends came in.
Big, muscular—a few I recognized from Channing’s fight.
They all nodded to us, and seemed to know who I was. I didn’t remember their names, but I could tell they were good people. Heather greeted each of them by name, hugging all of them. There was respect in the way they talked to her, respect in how they nodded, acknowledging me. None of them stood and leered at Taylor, who stuck to the background. I couldn’t blame her for that. These guys looked rough. Some arrived on motorcycles. Some wore leather cuts and bandanas. Others looked more like us, in jeans and T-shirts, the way Mason and Logan dressed, but when you mixed all of them together, even I was a little intimidated.
“That’s fucked up. We could be driving for hours.”
We hadn’t been. We were an hour north of home, but as Nate said something else to Logan, I turned onto the shore road. Sam had said the cabin was located on this highway, and this area matched Becky’s description—not many houses, so a lot of trees and rocky cliffs. Nate and Logan were still going back and forth when I stopped the vehicle at the end of a driveway. I could see the tops of a white mansion, and the name on the mailbox said Quinn.
“We’re here?” Logan asked.
“I’m taking a wild guess, but yeah.”
“Do we know how we’re getting in?” Nate asked once we were parked. The house was three stories, with a wraparound porch. Logan and I shared a look as we got out and stood in front of the place. It was a cabin. Yeah, it was big and sprawling, but it was still a cabin. The paint was a little worn. I could see a few spider webs on the porch. The place wasn’t kept up, and I’d bet there was no state-of-the-art security system in place either.
Logan hopped up on the porch and rattled the door. “It’s locked.” He glanced back at me.
I gestured around to the back. “Check all the doors. They might have one unlocked—or even a window.”
And we were in luck. The door to the attached garage had been left unlocked, but inside was another door that opened into the house, and that one was locked.
Logan started laughing.
“What?”
He stepped carefully on a rug. “Are you kidding me?” He knelt down and felt under it, pulling out a key. “Fuckers literally left it under the rug. That’s almost as bad as keeping it in one of those fake rocks.”
He unlocked the door, and we went inside. We filtered into the kitchen, and Logan clapped his hands. “Okay, my genius brother. Where do we start?”
Nate flicked on a light over the stove. “They have electricity.”
“So if they have a computer, we can turn it on.”
“Let’s hope they don’t use a password,” Logan added.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe we’ll get lucky again and they’ll have their password written down somewhere.”
“Fuck. They probably will. But for serious, though.” He looked at me. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything that looks illegal?” I wasn’t sure what we were looking for, or if it would even be at this place. I just wanted something in hand to exchange for the favor I needed to ask my dad. I’d need his help dealing with Caldron, and I didn’t want to owe him. “Just look through their files.”
“Got it.” Logan nodded. “We’re thinking of what we would do if we were doing something illegal, like keep incriminating files as a backup in case something happens? Something like that?”
“Would you keep that in your house or office?”
“Where the authorities would go first?” Logan shook his head. “No way, and thinking of that, we need to start using Dad’s old place again. There are lots of good hiding spots for our future illegal endeavors.”
Nate had been rifling through one of the cupboards, but he stopped to grin at us. “Are we future white-collar criminals?”
“Everyone needs to have aspirations.”
Ignoring the joking, I moved down a side hallway and opened a door. “I found the office.”
“Just remember, Mase,” Logan called from the kitchen. “Bigstick is a perfectly acceptable password. Just because you use it, doesn’t mean others won’t.”
“Fuck you,” I called back, but was smiling as I turned on the computer and sat down. When the password screen came up, I rolled my eyes, and typed it in. “Apparently, Steven Quinn doesn’t have a big stick. It’s not the password.”
“Rocket man?” Logan suggested.
Nate added, “Pornstar?”
I typed in Bigstud. And nothing. “Screw it,” I muttered, shuffling through some of the papers on the desk. Inside the drawer, I found one word scribbled down. K45it()rd. It was set apart from all the other notes, and typing that in, I got through.
Logan and Nate were still throwing out ideas. Big Johnson. Big Willy. Womb broom. Yogurt slinger. Taco whisperer. I let them go, and stopped listening.
Mr. Quinn kept a lot of business files on this computer. I looked through everything that seemed related to Fallen Crest, something about business holdings in Roussou, and a whole ton of files about the country club. I was still reading and skimming through them when Logan said my name.
“What?” I looked up.
“You’ve been in here for an hour.”
“I have?”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting us know you got in.” He came around to stand behind me.
“Sorry. I didn’t think you were actually trying to help with the password ideas.”
“Yeah, maybe not.” He tapped my shoulder. “So which one worked? It was yogurt slinger, wasn’t it?”
“Nope.” I clicked on another file titled Payables. “It was taco whisperer.”
“I knew it! What a dirty mind Quinn has.” Logan chuckled. “I bet Quinn junior is just as dirty. Gotta be, if he’s going into politics.”
“Hey!” Nate came into the room, frowning. “You got in and didn’t tell us?”
“It was on a need-to-know basis, Nate, and you didn’t need to know.”
I tuned them out. Logan was going to needle at Nate, which he’d been doing since he got back, and Nate was going to ignore him at first, then shoot insults back or get pissed. That had been their dynamic since we were kids.
“You find anything yet?” Logan asked.
“What?” I looked up, distracted. I’d been staring at a screen of names and numbers, but none of it was making sense. “No.” I pulled out a flash drive and began saving everything. “I’ll just save as much as I can. We can look through it later. Can you guys check any back rooms or the basement for paper files?”
The two shared a look and shrugged.
Maybe coming here had been reaching, but I knew a bit more about Quinn’s business than I had before.
An hour later, we were heading back when Logan read his text messages. “Uh, guys?”
“What?” Nate leaned forward, now the one sitting in the back.
Logan looked up at me, cringing slightly. “We need to head to Roussou.”
“Why?”
I’d told Sam to take Taylor out, and knowing Sam, that meant she’d find Heather. I already had an idea of what he was going to say when I heard him.
“They’re at Channing’s house, and Taylor just texted. Caldron’s there.”
I pressed the accelerator. If we got picked up by a cop, I didn’t care. I needed one to follow me to Channing’s and keep me from killing Caldron, because that was how I felt at the moment.
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening, and we didn’t talk until I braked outside Channing’s place.
I was running for the house not even a second later, with Logan right behind me.
Everything started out fine. It was fun, even.
Taylor and I finished a bottle of wine by the time Heather joined us, and all she did was pack a bunch more in a box, and then we were in the car. The party was at Channing’s, as his little sister was gone for the weekend. It was actually in the building behind their house, which was a safe distance away from any nosy neighbors. We were in the kitchen making margaritas when the first of Channing’s friends came in.
Big, muscular—a few I recognized from Channing’s fight.
They all nodded to us, and seemed to know who I was. I didn’t remember their names, but I could tell they were good people. Heather greeted each of them by name, hugging all of them. There was respect in the way they talked to her, respect in how they nodded, acknowledging me. None of them stood and leered at Taylor, who stuck to the background. I couldn’t blame her for that. These guys looked rough. Some arrived on motorcycles. Some wore leather cuts and bandanas. Others looked more like us, in jeans and T-shirts, the way Mason and Logan dressed, but when you mixed all of them together, even I was a little intimidated.
