Trevor and Spion returned to the Wounded Warrior Project on Monday afternoon. They had yet to inform the staff of their suspicions about one of their colleagues being the imposter, so they approached the investigation with caution. Their questions seemed innocent enough—asking about Hector’s daily routine, his arrival and departure times, and his typical interactions with others. According to Randy, Hector was primarily responsible for the psychological rehabilitation of the wounded soldiers. His role often involved traveling to visit them, offering support as they adjusted to their new lives.
“The day Hector went missing,” Randy recalled, “I thought he was headed to the hospital to visit a young soldier who’d just been injured. He mentioned it to me that morning. So, when I didn’t see him after lunch, I figured he was still there.”
Randy paused, his face clouding with worry. “Later that night, Camila called. She said he hadn’t come home. I tried reaching him, texting, calling, but no response. The next day, the boy Hector was supposed to visit called me, asking why Hector never showed up. That’s when I started to worry.”
The detectives absorbed this information quietly before heading to the activity room. Dozens of staff photos lined the wall. In several group shots, it was easy to spot who was taller than Hector. While this helped narrow down the list of potential suspects, it didn’t provide any concrete evidence to move the case forward.
Just as they were about to leave, Will entered the room. He glanced at the photos, noticing their intense focus. “Detectives, any news about Hector?”
“Not much,” Trevor replied, his eyes meeting Will’s. “We think something may have happened to him after he left here around noon that day.”
Will’s gaze dropped to the floor as he took in the news. “He’s my buddy,” he said quietly. “I’m really missing him. I keep hoping he just left for a while and will come back soon.”
Trevor didn’t miss the shift in Will’s demeanor. He seized the opportunity to ask, “Randy mentioned Hector was supposed to visit a wounded soldier after lunch that day. Did you have lunch with him?”
“No,” Will answered quickly. “I was out. I went to the Temple of Ares for a charity event that day.”
“The Temple of Ares?” Trevor asked, his interest piqued.
“Yeah, it’s near Chelsea Park,” Will explained. “It’s a charity fundraiser for military families. We’re soldiers, you know? I was there all day.”
Trevor nodded, piecing together the details. “I think that temple’s only a few blocks from the military hospital, right?”
“Yeah, not far,” Will agreed, his expression darkening. “But I didn’t see Hector that day. I feel stupid, I should’ve invited him to come by for lunch.”
“Sounds like you might’ve missed a chance to catch up with him,” Spion said thoughtfully.
Will sighed, clearly frustrated. “Yeah. But what about Jack Goblinez? Have you found anything on him?”
“Nothing concrete,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “He’s got more of a playboy reputation than a criminal one.”
“I’m not so sure,” Will replied, his voice lowering. “Who knows? Just like Connor Franco, people like them have the power to pull off some terrible things.” He paused for a moment, then his eyes widened with a sudden realization. “Wait a second… his company, JackToy, made a donation that day. His assistant gave a speech in his place, but Goblinez himself wasn’t there. Maybe he was nearby, having lunch, watching everything unfold.”
Trevor raised an eyebrow. “That’s a useful lead. Thanks, Will.”
After a brief conversation, they made their way to the Dressrious Salon to meet James Style. The party hall was buzzing with activity, hosting a Western cowboy-themed event. A mechanical bull, its red eyes glowing eerily, was positioned at the center of the stage. People queued up, eager to try their hand at staying on for five minutes to earn a free cocktail. Few succeeded.
Trevor, Spion, and Style weren’t interested in the game. They opted for a quiet booth, ordering burgers and snacks. Style, who hadn’t been seen for a while, looked slightly different. His left hand was wrapped in a bandage.
“Just a little injury,” he shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Should be able to take the bandage off next week.”
Trevor and Spion took turns recounting the details of Franco’s case to Style, but carefully omitted any mention of Patric. They only referred to him as a former Lost Boys soldier seeking revenge for a betrayal. That was the version they had shared with Senator Style as well.
“How’s Senator and Mateo now?” Trevor concerned. Since Connor Franco’s case came to light, many public figures who had previously been in contact with him have been affected by the scandal.
“They’re on a family vacation in Oz,” Style said, leaning back with a relaxed smile. “I think it’s the perfect time for them to unwind.”
Trevor nodded, thinking about Mateo’s words that night when Fiona died. “Mateo told me he had a competition this month. He was training hard for it. It’s a shame… I feel sorry for him.”
Style took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, he needs time to recover.”Then, to change the subject, he asked, “Do you have any new cases on your end?”
“We’re working on a missing person case,” Trevor replied, his voice grim. “But we’ve hit a dead end.”
“We have several suspects, but no concrete evidence. It’s been a few days since the incident, and we’re struggling to find anything new,” Spion added.
Style’s eyes twinkled. “Well, if the investigation isn’t going anywhere, maybe you need a break. Wanna ride the bull?”
Trevor glanced at the long line stretching across the room. “The line’s still pretty long,” he said, frowning.
“I’m free tomorrow, so I can wait the whole night,” Spion said, rising from the booth and giving Trevor a playful nudge. “Come on, take a break.”
Trevor hesitated but eventually agreed. “Alright, alright. Let’s do it.”
After about ten minutes of waiting, Spion was the first to take on the mechanical bull. It bucked and spun violently, but Spion hung on, grinning and waving to the cheering crowd. Trevor followed, his hands gripping the bull’s saddle with determination. The ride was brutal, his body was tossed in every direction, the world spinning. It wasn’t fun; it was a battle just to stay on for five minutes. But somehow, he made it through.
Style was up next. He flashed a confident grin, taking the bull’s challenge in stride. The crowd roared as he held his ground, completing the ride with a smooth ease that made it look effortless. In the end, all three of them earned their reward: three perfectly chilled Martinis.
After they finished their drinks, Trevor leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “I think we should head to the Temple of Ares tomorrow.”
Spion met his gaze, a knowing look in his eyes. “I was just about to suggest the same thing.”