The Photograph (Pt4)

Part 4

Armed with the name Donovan and a renewed sense of purpose, Robin and I threw ourselves into the investigation. We spent long hours combing through online records, tracking down Damon’s old associates, and piecing together the events leading up to his disappearance.

It wasn’t easy. Donovan, it turned out, was a ghost. He had no online presence, no known address, and no one seemed willing to talk about him. But we kept digging, fueled by our determination to uncover the truth.

After weeks of dead ends and false leads Liam called Robin late one night, his voice shaking with fear.

 “I have proof,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Everything you’re looking for.”

Robin’s eyes widened as she put the phone on speaker. “Liam, say that again… what kind of proof?”

“Proof that Donovan killed Damon. But I can’t keep it here. It’s not safe. You need to meet me, tonight. Bank records, emails, phone logs. Donovan has a mole. This mole knows I’ve been passing on information. I’m not safe and you might not be either, but it would be easier for you to get it to the police. We need to meet. Tonight.”

I leaned in, my heart pounding. “Liam, it’s Jada—I’ve been working with Robin to dig up information. I can come with her.”

“I know who you are, Jada. I tried to warn you to stay out of this.”

My eyes popped open wide. Liam had sent me that text.

“I have a thumb drive with everything you need. I need to get it to you. Immediately. You know where. Make sure you’re not followed.”

The line went dead, and Robin and I exchanged a glance. We knew it could be a trap, but we also knew it was our best chance at getting the evidence we needed to bring Donovan down.

An hour later, we arrived at Robin and Liam’s regular meeting space an abandoned warehouse near the airport. In the distance, we watched a figure nervously pace the shadows. He looked up as we approached, his face pale and gaunt, his red beard in patches across his cheeks. In his hands, he clutched a duffel bag. 

“Did anyone follow you?” he asked, anxiously bobbing his head to see behind us.

“No.” We shook our heads.

He heaved sigh of relief, then pulled a small device from his pocket. “Good. Here.” He thrust the item into Robin’s palm. “It’s all in there.”

“What do you mean… what is all on here?”

“Proof,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “That drive holds all the proof that Donovan was laundering money through Damon’s business. He wasn’t always a drug dealer… he was forced into it. He was using Damon’s business as a front for his drug operation.He ordered the hit when Damon got married, had some kids, tried to go straight. He made the mistake of telling Donovan that he could take him down with everything he knew. He… he was gone a few days later.”

I felt a chill run down my spine as the pieces began to fall into place. “So Damon wasn’t a drug dealer? He was working for Donovan?”

Liam nodded, his face grim. “It’s what he does. Gets cozy with small business owners. Ropes them into getting involved to the point where they can’t untangle themselves. Donovan’s been running this operation for years— Damon was just one of his many pawns. There’s proof of that, too. Probably some people who don’t want it known that they’re backed by a drug king. When Damon tried to break free, Donovan couldn’t let him live. He knew too much.”

Robin’s face was ashen as she clutched the drive to to her chest. “I have take this to the police. We have to stop him.”

“Good luck. Like I mentioned, I’m not safe, so I’m taking off. I destroyed my phone, so you won’t be able to reach me after tonight. Stay safe, Robin.” He nodded to me. “Jada… sorry I tried to scare you. I really thought you’d back off. This… this is a lot and I was trying to protect Robin.”

“I know. Thank you for—” The sound of screeching tires filled the air. A black SUV came barreling towards us, its windows tinted and its engine roaring.

“Run!” Liam shouted, pushing us toward the warehouse. “Donovan’s men must have followed me.”

We sprinted towards the building, our hearts pounding in our chests. But we were too late. The SUV skidded to a stop, and four armed men leaped out, their guns trained on us.”Hand over the drive,” one of them demanded, his voice cold and menacing. 

Robin and I exchanged a glance, knowing we couldn’t let them take the evidence. It was our only chance at bringing Donovan to justice.

In a split second, I made my decision. I charged towards the men, my fists raised and my adrenaline pumping. Robin followed suit, swinging her heavy purse like a weapon.

The fight was as brutal as it could be with two women fighting off men with guns with only a purse. The men tried not to be vicious but we certainly took hits. We gave them back in spades. Liam jumped in, surprising them and taking their attention away from us. 

“Run!” he shouted. 

I was tempted, but I knew they’d kill him if we left. In the chaos, I managed to grab one of the men’s guns, gripped it in both hands, pointed it at a body and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening and the kickback almost knocked me off of my feet. I recovered enough to aim, then shoot again. 

It was over in seconds, but it felt like hours. When the dust settled, both men lay near the SUV, a pool of blood growing around them. 

“Liam… go!” I said, my voice shaking with adrenaline. “Robin, call 9-1-1!” 

Lights and sirens blazing, the police screeched into the warehouse parking lot. They pried the gun from my fingers. Robin held the thumb drive, refusing to turn it over until we could speak to a detective about Donovan Ridge’s involvement in the disappearance of her husband. 

It was a risk… Donovan had eyes and ears everywhere. It was a risk we had to take if we were ever going to find out what happened to Damon. 

Days later, Robin and I sat at Atlanta Police Department headquarters to hear about what the detectives had found and what they were able to piece together. 

The detectives were skeptical at first, but as they began to sift through the evidence, they became true believers. Bank records showing large sums of money flowing into offshore accounts. Emails detailing drug shipments and distribution routes through small businesses around Atlanta, including Damon’s photo framing shop. 

And the video, the one that had haunted Robin for so long, showing Damon’s final moments.

The lead detective leaned back in his chair, his face bearing a grim expression. “This is big,” he said, tapping the file in front of him. “Bigger than anything we’ve ever seen on this guy. Whoever his mole is? He’s not safe, either. With this evidence, we have the best chance we’ve ever had at taking Donovan Ridge down for good.”

Robin and I wilted in relief, tears welling in our eyes. It had been a long, difficult road, but we had done it. We had found the truth about Damon’s disappearance and brought his killers to light. And with video evidence of Damon’s death, he could be declared dead and put to rest and the next chapter of Robin’s life could begin. 

In the end, justice was served. The next few months were a blur of legal proceedings and media attention. Donovan and his associates were arrested and charged with a litany of crimes, including Damon’s murder. The case made headlines across the country, and Robin and I found ourselves at the center of it all. We leaned on each other for support. The bond we had forged in our shared quest for justice was unbreakable, and we knew we would always be there for each other, no matter what.

Donovan was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. It was a bittersweet victory, knowing that it couldn’t bring Damon back, but it brought a measure of peace to Robin and her children. 

As we walked out of the sentencing hearing, hand in hand, Robin turned to me, tears streaming down her full cheeks.

“Thank you, Jada,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

I pulled her into a tight hug, feeling the weight of everything we had been through. “That’s what really nosy friends are for, Robin.”

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That was fun, right? Looking forward to the next short serial that I can bring to your faces.

If you’d like to hear me read this in four parts, start at Episode 86 of my author podcast- The Bookcast.