Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“Not all of them.” There was a hard, flat edge in Sunny’s voice. He knelt on the ground. “I ordered these pants last year in November for the Christmas party and they came with something extra. These I ordered three or four months before that and they’re clean.”
Shonda shuddered. “Are we sure they’re not listening to us? Liam?”
“I’m certain,” Liam replied. “They’re GPS microchips—made to be so small, they can be sewn into clothes. I remember researching it when it was first announced. The idea was to use it to protect royalty, celebrities, or athletes. Anyone tries to kidnap and hold them for ransom, it won’t work out so well. The Brotherhood decided to put them to another use.”
Of course it was the Brotherhood. It couldn’t be anyone else.
I dropped next to Sunny, picking up a metal snap. “It’s genius,” I was forced to say. “They’re metal, so X-rays won’t see through to what’s inside. A detector would beep the metal and nothing else. Plus, they enclosed the cap so water doesn’t get inside when it’s washed. Genius, but so simple. That’s the worst part—how simple it was.”
Grave expressions surrounded me.
“This explains everything,” Bane said. “Everyone in this damn building wears Caddell. We put the entire staff on the account. That’s how Snyder knew Sunny left the compound that night without security.”
“That’s how he knew I was on my way to La Belle’s,” Liam said.
It hit me like a brick to the head. “And how he knew Sunny was nearby watching the exact moment Grant passed him the note. This explains how the Brotherhood discovered your routes and secret warehouses. There was never a rat in the Sons of Saint! Whenever you wore Caddell, they’ve known exactly where you are every minute of every day.”
“Please stop, Kenzie,” Shonda cried, clapping her hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick. I’ve never felt so violated.”
“For that I’m sorry,” Liam said. “We’re the ones who encouraged you to wear these clothes.”
Fuller squeezed his shoulder. “Come now, Liam. You couldn’t have known. The only ones at fault here are the skulking sewer rats who did this.”
“But who did do this?” Sienna asked. “I’ve lived with my sister long enough to know the work on that clasp was done by a designer. If they sewed the clasp on, then they’re the ones who put the chip in. Not some hulking Brotherhood brute.”
I bobbed my head to each word. “Sienna’s right. This wasn’t contracted out. See the stitchwork around the clasp and to sew it in?” I showed Sunny and Liam. “Whoever did this is a Caddell designer. Do you know who designs your clothes? We can question them right now—find out how deep with the Brotherhood they are.”
“We don’t know who it is,” Bane admitted. “We all have access to an online account. We put in what we want, then the clothes arrive at a separate location to be x-rayed, then brought here. There’s no need to talk to the person on the other side.”
“You can help more than us,” Sunny said. “You worked in Caddell House. You were around while our orders were coming in. The Johnson account. Did you ever clock the one sewing on our buttons?”
“You were the Johnson account? I can’t believe it. Talia said you guys were VIPs. Only the best of the best could even sneeze in proximity to your fabrics, let alone design something for you. In this case, the best of the best were the senior designers.”
Bane stepped forward. “That’s it. The Brotherhood’s man is one of the senior designers.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “The seniors designed these no question, but sewing buttons and snaps is grunt work—intern work. I sewed a million of these when I first started. It’s the closest we get to putting our stamp on couture. But,” I said as he started to reply. “If the client is important enough, they don’t trust interns with their clothes and pass those off on the junior designers. That’s about thirty people right there. By the way, this is only assuming the senior designer is passing the final touches off. Now we’re up to fifty.”
“Why would that be the case?” Liam asked. “It’s a simple matter of walking in there and demanding to know who sewed those snaps on.”
I looked at him head-on. “You do that and dozens of hands will go up. That’s what I’m trying to say, but I’m not doing it well. Anyone in Caddell House can sew on a snap, even the lowest grunt. In the mornings, we used to come in and find half a dozen racks of clothes waiting for their final touches.
“We weren’t assigned specific accounts. We picked at random,” I confessed. “But more important than all of that, there’s the fact your finished clothes sit in the Closet until they’re ready to be shipped out. Someone could go in, unpick the snaps, and sew their compromised one when no one is around. If they’re not a complete idiot, that’s exactly what they’re doing. If the chips are ever found, no one could point to them.”