Chapter 10 - Natalie’s Book of NamesNatalie kept records.
Not because Silas asked.
Because she understood memory was not enough.
According to Blaire, Natalie once told her:
“If people disappear, somebody has to remember who they were.”
The book contained names of people moved through Rourke’s network.
Some voluntary.
Some coerced.
Some debtors.
Some witnesses.
Some women escaping abusive partners who initially paid Rourke for help but later became controlled by him.
Some criminals hiding from other criminals.
A messy human network.
Not one simple trafficking operation.
That complexity protected Rourke.
Victims sometimes defended him.
Others feared him.
Some had technically hired him before losing freedom.
Natalie documented everything.
Real names when known.
Alias.
Origin.
Destination.
Who paid.
Who threatened.
Who disappeared afterward.
If law enforcement obtained it, dozens of cold cases could reopen.
“Where is the book?” Lena asked.
Blaire shook her head.
“I never saw it.”
“Cole says she has it.”
“He must have found out.”
“What would Natalie do with it?”
“Hide it where Silas can’t reach.”
Evan looked around Cole’s shop.
His brother had left the message here intentionally.
Maybe he had access briefly.
Maybe Natalie did too.
“Why tell me find Natalie, not find the book?”
Because Natalie was the key.
Then Evan noticed a service manual on the bench.
Opened to a page about navigation systems.
One section highlighted.
WAYPOINT MEMORY.
He frowned.
Cole and clues.
Again.
Inside the back cover:
A series of GPS coordinates.
Not complete.
Last digits missing.
Blaire looked.
“Natalie does that.”
“How?”
“She separates coordinates.”
“Where’s the other half?”
Blaire stared at the wrench.
Cole’s tools.
They searched.
Inside the handle of a torque wrench, a rolled strip of paper.
Remaining digits.
Coordinates led to Sacramento City Cemetery.
At 2 a.m., no dramatic rush.
Investigators obtained legal authority and arrived carefully.
Coordinates pointed to a family plot.
Price.
Blaire stopped breathing.
Her father’s grave.
Elaine’s late husband, Daniel Price, died six years ago.
Natalie disappeared three years later.
They found no book buried illegally.
Instead, taped beneath a metal bench near the grave:
A locker key.
Bus terminal.
Locker opened under warrant.
Inside:
Backpack.
Clothes.
Cash.
A compact camera.
And a thick black notebook sealed in plastic.
Blaire cried when she saw Natalie’s handwriting.
The book of names.
Hundreds.
Lena opened carefully.
Entries spanned three years.
Cole appeared near the back.
COLE CROSS — NOT CAPTIVE NOW. STAYING TO HELP.
Evan stared.
There.
Proof.
His brother had chosen to remain.
Next:
UNDERSTANDS SILAS USING HIM TO DRAW EVAN.
Then:
COLE KNOWS. SAYS “GOOD.”
Evan almost laughed.
Of course.
His reckless idiot brother had realized he was bait and decided to reverse the trap.
Next entry dated eight days ago:
PLAN: MOVE BOOK SAC. MADDIE MUST NOT KNOW UNTIL SAFE.
Another:
SILAS SUSPECTS LEAK.
Then:
COLE WANTS EVAN CLOSE BUT NOT INSIDE.
Evan stared.
Not inside what?
Final page.
TODAY.
Written recently.
IF THIS BOOK IS FOUND, WE MAY ALREADY BE MOVING.
Destination symbol.
Blaire recognized it.
Not bridge.
Not airport.
Train.
Rourke used freight-adjacent facilities.
Sacramento had major rail yards.
But federal rail police found no relevant movement.
Then Evan remembered Cole’s obsession with historic rail.
The old Sacramento Southern line.
Tourist areas.
Maintenance sheds.
Warehouses along river.
One property linked to a Rourke shell company sat near West Sacramento industrial tracks.
Task force mobilized.
Before they left, Lena read one more line from Natalie’s book.
SILAS’S BIGGEST PROTECTION IS NOT MONEY.
Then:
IT IS SOMEONE IN LAW ENFORCEMENT.
Everyone went silent.
Evan stared.
An insider.
That explained missed raids.
Vanished locations.
Rourke knowing officer movements.
Maybe even how he knew Evan’s route the night Blaire stood beside the road.
Then the next line named no person.
Only initials.
J.M.
Evan looked toward Captain Joel Mercer’s contact card on Lena’s desk.
Joel Mercer.
J.M.
His captain.
The man who repeatedly ordered Evan away from surveillance.
The man who knew motor-unit plans.
The man who knew Cole’s case.
Evan’s stomach turned.
Lena saw his expression.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Do not jump.”
“J.M.”
“Could be anyone.”
“Mercer has access.”
“Yes.”
“He told me to stay in Sacramento.”
“Which may have been correct.”
“He knew my routes.”
“So do twenty people.”
Evan looked at the notebook.
May you like
Rourke’s protection lived inside law enforcement.
And suddenly every instruction Evan had received during the last six months needed to be examined again.
Related Stories
