DR. FREEDMAN’S house was located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan in a residential neighborhood lined with fenced-in trees, expensive brownstones sporting flowerbeds in bloom, and luxury cars parked alongside pristine sidewalks. Agents from Beta Ambush approached the house while the rest searched the perimeter, and each end of the street was blocked by their backup teams’ BearCats. Sloane waited with his team in formation behind the safety of their own truck, rifles in their hands. The moment Beta Ambush breached the front door, Sloane gave the order, and they rushed up the steps and into the house. They spread out, checking all the rooms, under beds, in closets, anywhere anyone could hide. One by one, his team confirmed their status until the house was declared clear.
Sloane scanned what was once an elegant-looking living room. The large room was decorated in cream and brown hues with dark accents. The windows were light and airy, expensive rugs covered the hardwood floors. Bookshelves were tucked into the walls to each side of the fireplace, though it was empty of books. In fact, every surface in the room had been cleared of its contents, the evidence scattered on the floor all around them. Lamps had been knocked over, coffee tables upturned, throw pillows slashed along with couch cushions. The place was a disaster.
Ash gave a low whistle. “Looks like the doc left in a hurry.”
“I’m not so sure about that. It looks more like it’s been ransacked. All right, I want this place searched inside out. I want to know who this guy is, if he’s part of the Order, where he might be heading, does he have family, friends, everything, and I want it yesterday, so move your asses.” Sloane stalked off into the next room, rounding the corner when he heard Letty’s concerned voice.
“Damn, what’s up with him?”
“He and Daley got into a lover’s quarrel,” Ash grumbled.
Dex’s reply was a low, “Fuck you, Ash.”
There was movement around the room before Rosa piped up. “You guys fighting?”
“It’s nothing,” Dex muttered, followed by more shuffling, before Dex let out a heavy sigh. Rosa was undoubtedly giving him “that look.” “Okay, yes, we got into a fight.”
Sloane told himself he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but then again if his team was going to carry on this conversation as if he couldn’t hear it, then it wasn’t his fault. Rosa spoke up in her usual no-nonsense tone.
“You need to make up.”
Dex scoffed. “Says who?”
“Listen up, Rookie. You do not want to have him giving orders while he’s pissed. He’s an absolute miserable fuck. I love him, but it’s the truth.”
Thanks, Rosa.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who tore me a new one for doing my job. Yes, I went against orders, but I was right to. I’m not budging on this.”
“Carajo, you two are so stubborn.”
Sloane had heard enough. If Dex truly thought he hadn’t done anything wrong then nothing Sloane said was going to change his mind. If anyone was being stubborn, it was Dex. He walked into the bedroom, which was in the same ransacked state as the living room. The queen-sized mattress had been pulled off the bed, its stuffing strewn everywhere. Drawers were open or upended, clothes, shoes, ties, scattered everywhere. However, what stood out the most was that there was nothing personal in the room. No photographs, artwork, nothing that could help him get a profile together of who lived here. He rummaged through the disorderly dresser, but found nothing except men’s clothing. All he knew about this doctor was that he was a size “Medium.”
On the opposite wall, a closet stretched from one end to the other, its wood louvered doors pulled wide open. He found a light switch, not surprised to find the closet had been searched as well. Inspecting the contents of the closet, he met with another dead end. Nothing but clothes, shoes, belts, and hats, most of it on the floor or dangling precariously off hangers. He checked pockets, but came up empty. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he so careful? Sloane was about to turn off the light, when he noticed something black and furry on the floor in the corner. It looked like it had fallen from somewhere. Picking it up, he found it was a toy. Wait….
“Oh my God.” A lump formed in his throat as he stared at the stuffed toy of a black jaguar. It couldn’t be. And yet…. He held the toy in his gloved hands, thinking about how much bigger it used to be. Then again, the last time he’d held it, he’d been smaller. It still had its white bandages around each paw, and Sloane swallowed hard. With a shaking hand, he turned it over, inhaling sharply at the white tag under its tail with the initials S.B. written in black marker. The letters were slightly faded and worn, but they were there, and they were his.
“Hey, you okay?”
Sloane held the toy behind him before Ash came into view. He nodded at his friend. “Yeah, um, see if you can find a photograph, or something we can use to physically identify this guy.”
Ash cocked his head to one side, his expression one of concern. “You sure you’re okay?”
; “Yeah, fine.”
As soon as Ash left, Sloane removed his backpack and stuffed the toy inside. He quickly zipped it up and clipped it back into place. He didn’t know how the hell this had gotten here, or if it really was what he thought it was, but he needed to find out.
Letty’s voice came in over his earpiece. “Sloane, we found something.”
Sloane hurried through the house and into a large office where his team was gathered. It was in a worse state than the other rooms.
“Well, the guy definitely had something to do with the center, but….” Rosa held up a handful of invoices. “Tax write-offs. The guy donates to the center every month. Has been for years.”
Dex shook his head, puzzled. “Why would he blow up a center he donates money to?”
“Not just money,” Rosa said, shuffling through the paperwork in her hands. “Clothes, video games, gift cards. Hell, one year he donated six computers. His last donation was three weeks ago. Kids’ furniture. Four bunk beds, two desks, beanbag chairs…. This guy was a saint. This makes no sense.”