CHAPTER 118: The Apartment

POV: Selene Castellano

Things started happening quickly at the FBI after they got Margaret's information.

In the morning, a team from the federal government had joined forces with the local police. Avalon and Selene were now seated in a conference room at the Bureau's office in San Francisco. Across from them was Agent Patricia Nunez. She was the one who had taken over the Whitmore case after he passed away.

“We found Reeves’ apartment,” Nunez said, sliding a folder across the table. “ Empty. Cleared out fast, but not fast enough. He left things behind.”

Selene opened the folder.

Photographs of an apartment, sparse and impersonal, it was the kind of place someone lived in without ever calling it home.

And then, photographs of a wall.

A corkboard, covered in printouts, photographs, handwritten notes connected by red string in a pattern that made Selene’s stomach turn.

Pictures of Avalon, Selene, and Nene were scattered around, along with a decades-old photo of Robert Laine that seemed to have been cut out from an old newspaper.

Nunez made it clear that this project has been in the works for a long time - we're talking years, not just a few months.

Avalon stared at the photo of his own face, printed and pinned to a wall by a man he’d shaken hands with exactly once, in passing, at a board dinner he barely remembered.

“He knew everything,” Avalon said quietly. “ Before any of this started, before Nene died and definitely before the will.”

Nunez explained that they think Whitmore had a plan in place, just in case. Decades ago, he put someone in position to keep an eye on the Pierce family from afar. This person's job was to gather information and report back, and if anything went wrong, they would take care of it. "We're talking about someone who was watching and waiting, ready to step in if the evidence that Robert Laine and your father had found ever came to light," Nunez said. "Reeves was that person, and his role was to know everything that was going on and make sure any problems were taken care of, no matter what it took."

“Robert Laine,” Selene said quietly.

Nunez seemed pretty sure about it. "The timeline matches up," he said. Reeves was just 22 years old at the time, working for Whitmore's firm, and he was in San Francisco the same week Laine died. They still didn't have concrete proof, but everything pointed to the same conclusion.

“Where is he now,” Avalon said.

Selene could tell what Nunez was thinking, even before she said a word - her hesitation gave it away.

"I have no idea," she admitted. He's really skilled at what he does. Whoever taught him clearly knew what they were doing, because he's able to cover his tracks perfectly.

Avalon's voice was laced with a mix of fear and frustration as she spoke, "So, you're saying that the man who has been hunting my family for decades is now roaming free in this city, and yet, you have no idea where he is?"

"Nunez was adamant, 'We're utilizing every available resource to locate him,' he assured them. 'In the meantime, I'm insisting that both of you have protection at all times, until we find him.'"

Selene gazed at the picture of the corkboard once more.

On her own face, a small print was pinned to the corner.

Here's a more recent picture, taken at the gala just two weeks ago.

"She spoke in a hushed tone, her words barely above a whisper. 'He was there,' she said, a sense of calmness in her voice. 'At the gala, I mean. That's where he took this picture.'"

Nunez looked at the image. “ It’s possible.”

Selene's voice was firm, but a shiver ran down her spine as she spoke. "It's not possible," she said, her eyes fixed on the image. But as she looked closer, she felt a growing sense of unease. "It's certain," she continued, her mind racing. "Just look at the angle - this wasn't taken by a press photographer, it was taken from the gala floor itself." The implications were chilling. "He was in the room with us," she whispered, a cold dread creeping up her spine.

As they drove away from the field office, Avalon caught a glimpse of two federal agents following close behind in their car, something that hadn't really sunk in until he saw them staring back at him through the rearview mirror.

“This doesn’t feel real,” Selene said quietly.

“I know.”

"We're engaged again, but that's not even the biggest thing on our minds right now. Whitmore is gone, and to make matters worse, there's this guy who's been stalking us for years - he was even at our gala, and we think he might be responsible for two murders."

Avalon reached over and took her hand.

He said they would be cautious and allow others to do their work.

“And if their job isn’t fast enough.”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

His phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

He almost didn’t answer.

Selene watched his face as he did.

"Mr. Pierce," a low, steady voice spoke up, the tone calm and measured, yet completely unfamiliar. "I believe it's time for us to have a direct conversation."

Avalon went very still.

“Reeves,” he said.

"I'd rather talk about this face to face," the voice said quietly. "You're missing a lot of pieces to the puzzle, especially when it comes to your dad, Robert Laine, and what Nene really knew but decided to keep hidden."

“Tell me now,” Avalon said.

"No," Reeves said, his voice low and serious. "I think you'll want to hear this in private, without any distractions. Can we talk tonight, just the two of us?"

The line went dead.

Selene was staring at him.

“What did he say,” she said.

Avalon stared at the phone, his eyes fixed on it for what felt like an eternity.

"He wants to see me," he said quietly. "Tonight, and he wants to be alone with me."