Chapter 80 Kellan

Chapter 80 Kellan
Kellan's POV
The clock on my desk was churning on with no end in sight, each second rubbing across my nerves like sandpaper. Before me lay a montage of notes and photos that Thomas had put together, pieces of a jigsaw that I just couldn't seem to work out fast enough. Amanda was trapped with Carl and I was running out of time. It's like every day was another person striking a dagger right through my chest. That was because knowing it and yet being helpless over it drove me crazy over time.

I leaned back in my chair, scrubbing my hands down my face. The last time he'd seen her, her smile had been warm, radiant-a light in the middle of the chaos I'd called my life. Now, all I could think about was the fear in her eyes, the possibility that she'd lost that light because of him.

It whirred crystal clear on my desk. In an instant, it had reached my ears, and I could hear my heart start to whoop. It was Thomas.

"Kellan," he plunged right into it, dispensing with the hellos and goodbyes. "I dug deeper, like you wanted, into Carl's operations."

"Tell me you found something," I said into the receiver hunched forward in my chair, "anything."

"Well," he began, almost as if steeling himself. "Carl has tightened security all around him. No one can go in and out from that mansion without his permission. He's even clamped down on part of the workers' work so that it keeps some of them far away from Amanda.”

"Damn it!" My fist came down solidly onto the desk, knocking some papers to the floor. "He's shutting her away like some kind of-possession. Worse than I thought."

"It is," Thomas said, his face stern. "I have spoken to some of his ex-employees, and the same story they all relate to is that Carl keeps everything under control. His subordinates seem to be somewhat afraid of him. Nobody stands up against him, and nowadays, nobody does, especially.”

I gritted my teeth as frustration began to wear the better of me. "There just has to be a way in. A weak spot. Something we can use to get through to her."

“There might be," Thomas said, cautious. "But it's a risk. You are going to have to get someone on the inside."

I froze; the weight of his suggestion just hit me. "You're telling me that I have to bribe someone that works for him?"

“It's the only way,” he said. "Carl might be paranoid but his staff isn't as loyal as he believes. If you can find someone who is desperate enough or just tired of his shit, you may be able to get what you need.”

It wasn't much of a plan, but I didn't have anything to go on. "Do you know anybody who'd want to chat?”

"I've got one or two names," Thomas said. "There is one housemaid who has been in work for over two years and from all accounts has been unhappy for some considerable time. The name is Eliza; she takes Thursday off every week, and it's noticed that she is always on Elm Street in that café on the same street. The opportunity might be good speaking with her there."

I took a pen and scratched the details on. "Thursday. Café on Elm. Got it."

"Kellan," Thomas said, his voice serious. "Be careful. If Carl finds out you've been in contact with one of his staff, things could get ugly. For both of you."

"I'll handle it," I said, trying to sound a lot surer than I felt. "I'm not letting him keep her away from me, Thomas. Not anymore.”

I sat and stared at the notes in front of me after having hung up-my mind racing. As dicey as it was to bribe one of Carl's staff, what other choice was there? Olivia was in danger, and every instinct in me screamed to act now, or else it would be too late.



Thursday couldn't come quick enough. By the time the day actually did, I was a nervous anticipation wreck. I had parked my car a couple of blocks away from the café and continued the rest of the way on foot, head bent and pace even.

It was a small café, between a bookstore and a florist-nothing special at first sight, more than one is ready to get in any minor place like that. I peered in its window, staring at the tables until, from inside, abruptly, my heart was in the air: a young woman, fitted with what Thomas had described to be her physical features, short brown hair, thin structure, and tired look upon the eyes.

"Eliza," I said, crossing the threshold.

The little bell above the door above the doorway jingled softly, and I walked over to her table, trying to look cool. She looked up as I approached, her expression wary.

"Are you Eliza?" I asked-not loud.

She frowned and then looked around the cafe before nodding slowly. "Who's asking?"

"My name's Kellan," I said, pulling out the chair across from her. "I need to talk to you about Carl.:

Her eyes had widened and she shook her head immediately. "No. I won't. I'm so sorry." She reached for her bag, trying to stand, but I caught her hand, holding her down.

"Please," I said, the word forcing its way from my throat with urgency. "Just hear me out. I know you're scared, but I need your help. Amanda needs your help.

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes clouded. "What do you want from me?”

"I need information," I said. "Anything you can tell me about Carl and Amanda. He's got her imprisoned, and I need your help if I am going to get to her."

Again, Eliza looked around the café; her voice dropped to a whisper. "If Carl finds out I talked to you, I'm dead.”

"I'll make sure he doesn't," I said. "Whatever it takes, I'll keep you safe. But you've got to tell me what's been going on at that house."

She frowned and fiddled her fingers in her lap, twisting them in ways human fingers shouldn't be twisted. "Why are you so concerned for her?”

“She's my Fiancé's who went missing two years ago,” I explained. “She lost her memory and has been under his lock and key, and I certainly am not going to sit and wait for that and do nothing. Please, Eliza - anything, I will give to you, if you can.”

My words gentled her eyes, and she blew out a shaky breath. "I don't know much," she said. "But I've seen things. Things that don't feel right. Carl's obsessed with her. He doesn't let her out of his sight and is always so controlling. Even the other staff are too afraid to talk with her because of him."

"What about Amanda?" I asked. "Does she seem okay?”

Eliza shook her head. "She's quiet. Withdrawn. Like she's not really there. It's like. he's broken something inside of her."

My chest tightened at her words, my fists clenching under the table. "Has she said anything? Mentioned wanting to leave?

“Not at all, " Eliza said, "But sometimes I catch her staring out of the window, like she wants to be anywhere but here. I think she knows something's wrong, but Carl's got such a tight rein on her that she can do nothing about it."

I leaned forward, my voice taking on an urgent tone. "Can you get a word to her? Let her know I'm trying to help?”

Eliza's eyes flickered toward the door, and a sense of dread seemed to seep from her. "I don't think I can. He watches everything, even us. If he finds out—"

"I'll pay you," I said, pulling out my wallet. "Whatever it takes, I'll make sure you're taken care of. Just give me something to work with."

She hesitated for a while, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll help you. But you must promise me he will never find out."

"You have my word," I said, and relief tumbled through me.