Frank P.O.V

Since Percy and Jason were out of the game until further notice, Leo and I asked Connor and Travis Stoll to join us on our next rum run since it was a four man job. They let us use their car, because the police were less likely to recognize than Black Jack or Festus.
The trip went by smoothly at first. We had a rendezvous with some contacts of ours who lived on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. Grandmother and I once spent a weekend in Niagara Falls years ago and I thought about how wonderful it would be to visit there again with Hazel.
"You want to take Hazel to the wettest place on earth, huh," Travis snickered when I mentioned this, nudging his brother Conner.
I blushed and pretended that I didn't know what they meant.
The Olympians have contacts with breweries and distilleries all along the New York/Canadian border. They liked to switch up who they sent us to, that way our movements would be harder to track. Though most of our suppliers were connected to the Boreas brewery and distillery, perhaps the biggest in all of Quebec.

A/N There is actually a brewery in Quebec called Les Brasseurs du Nord or Boreale (the French version of Boreas). Cafes in Quebec have umbrellas at the tables on their outdoor patios with the Boreale logo like how in the US, we have umbrellas with the logos of Corona, Budweiser, or Sam Adams.

We crossed back over into New York around two in the morning. Connor, Travis, and I were dozing off but Leo was wide awake and antsy like he'd drank a gallon of black coffee and ate a dozen glazed donuts. Sometimes I wondered if the little guy ever got tired.
I was woken up by the car suddenly stopping. The headlights of a couple police cars were reflected in the windshield.
"Get out now!" Leo whispered.
Half-awake, we stared at him and groaned groggily.
"Get out and hide in the woods."
I climbed out of the car with Travis and Connor and we ran and hid behind some massive bushes. Leo stayed behind.
The police cars caught up with us. Leo stepped out with his hands up to face the border patrol officers. I kept wanting to scream: "Get out of there, you idiot!"
The border patrol officers searched the car and found crates of illegal alcohol. One of them put handcuffs on Leo while the other busted up crates and smashed bottles, leaving a small pond of beer and whiskey on the road.
"Forgive me, Calypso," Leo said as he was dragged away into the police car.

Luckily the nearest town was connected to a Greyhound bus line which could take us back into Manhattan. Back in the city, we heard from Leo's parents that he was in some local jail awaiting trial.
I imagine that the time he spent locked up and waiting to learn his fate must have been torture of a guy as manic and restless as Leo. His parents pulled together as much money as they could to get him a lawyer and Calypso, the girl he had promised to run away with, took the bus upstate to be with him as much as she could.
After what seemed like a lifetime for all involved, Leo went on trial. He was found guilty on four counts of Prohibition violation and smuggling contraband. His sentence was to serve twenty years in Sing Sing Prison with the possibility of parole after four years.

Thalia P.O.V

Reyna and I reported Piper's disappearance to the police right away. We gave them her name and description: Piper Jemima Grace née McLean; About twenty years old; medium height and slight of build; bobbed chocolate brown hair; eyes that changed from brown to blue to green; last seen wearing a sleeveless blue and green frock decorated with ruffles and a green cloche decorated with blue ribbons; small tattoo of a dove on her left wrist.
A/N The name Jemima is Hebrew for Dove.

Luckily she had brought along some photographs from her and Jason's honeymoon.
We explained the long and sordid story of what had happened to Piper and how we suspected foul play was involved in her disappearance. Her father, mother, and sister were contacted and then I had to suck it up and tell Jason that his wife had possibly been kidnapped by his worst enemies.
"I knew something was up," he said, "I found a note under my door this morning saying that the dove had been caged. Did you go to the police?"
"Yes. We just filed the missing person report."
"Give the police my address and phone number, so they can let me know if they find anything. I'll let the New York police know as well. I want you and Reyna to leave Plymouth. It was a mistake to have asked you to go there in the first place. Go and stay with the Castellans; Mount Cilene is as secure as the White House. Can I speak to Reyna?"
I handed the phone over to Reyna and listened in on their conversation. Jason asked her pretty much the same things he had asked me: put Piper's information out there and return home.
Reyna and I went our separate ways: she went back to New York and I went back to Montauk. I thought Reyna was a chilly, stuck-up, killjoy but she came around and helped me look for Piper. She was the one who knew the whole procedure for reporting a missing person. Perhaps she felt bad for how she had treated her.
We parted at the Greyhound terminal in New York.
"Goodbye," she said, "Take care of yourself?"
"You too," I replied, "Thanks for everything."

I had called ahead to let the Castellan's know that I would be coming to stay again. During my stay in Plymouth, I had been worried about Luke and how he was doing. Before I had left, he told me that he wasn't feeling well. I didn't usually care about my appearance but I wished that I could have freshened up and put on something nicer than the black slacks and cloche, printed blue shirt, and grey blazer that I had traveled in.

"Master Luke is upstairs," The Castellan's housekeep told me when I walked in.
Luke pretty much had an entire house to himself: a combined bedroom, lounge, and closet. The closet was on a level above the rest of the floor which you accessed by a spiral staircase.

A fire was crackling on the hearth.

The cathedral style radio was tuned into a concert live from Madison Square Garden.

Two cigar stubs smoldered in an ashtray on a black lacquered table next to two half-empty tumblers of scotch and a bag of cocaine.

Luke was laying in a massive black and white Art Deco bed.

Laying next to him was a skinny, pale girl in chartreuse satin and black lace slip.

Her dark brown finger waves and pin curls were a tousled mess and her smoky eye make up was smudged to the point that she looked like a raccoon.
"Who is she?" The girl demanded of Luke.
He sat up in the bed and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
"Thalia," Luke groaned groggily, "What are you doing here?"
"I called earlier to say that I'm staying here for a while," I explained with a scowl.
"Oh, I forgot."
"The real question is: what is this floozy doing here?"
"What do you think?" the floozy giggled as she caressed Luke's bicep.
"I'm sorry I forgot you were coming over," Luke said, "But I don't see why you're so upset."
"Because I had to walk in on you and this bitch."
"I'm still here, you know," the bitch cut in.
"You're dumber than I thought if you think I give a damn."
"Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"
"Kelly," Luke grumbled, "I think it's time for you to leave."
"Oh don't bother."
I picked up my suitcases and left.

The housekeeper called me a cab to take me to the Parthenon and I prayed that the Chases would take me in. I couldn't find a logical reason for why I was so angry. Luke and I weren't a couple and he'd never shown any romantic interest towards me. But walking in on him and his slut rubbed this in my face.

Near the Parthenon was a grove of pine trees where Annabeth, Luke, and I used to play when we were children. It's tallest tree, the one I had fallen from years, earning me the nickname "pinecone face" and the tree the title "Thalia's tree," had been chopped down a few months earlier. The place didn't look right without it.
Over the years, I had saved every letter Luke had sent me and every photograph we had taken together and kept them in the box where I put all my special things. I carried this box with me, along with my record player, out to the pine grove. As "Nobody's Sweetheart Now," played, I lit a cigarette and looked over each photograph and letter.

https://youtu.be/dhizJft_Llg

After I was done reliving every pretty lie, I set a match and watched it crackle and disintegrate in my hand.

https://youtu.be/a0k0FJrY4a8

A/N  I imagine that after this story, Percy trains to become an Olympic swimmer and plans to compete in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin but later backs out in protest against the Nazi regime. He then joins the Marines during WWII. Tell me Percy wouldn't look hot in this outfit.

I've also been thinking of middle names for the characters. Percy's middle name is going to be Dylan which is Welsh for "son of the sea."  Annabeth's middle name is going to be Ismene which is Greek for "Knowledgeable."
I'm thinking of naming the Jasiper baby Callum ( Gaelic for  "dove"), Cal for short, Aquilinus (Latin for "eagle").