Lock&Load (PASS Series Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  Clearing my throat, I look to change the subject and ask, “What’s happening with the case? I feel like I’ve been out of the loop. Was that girl in Saginaw any help? Jenny something?”

  “You bet. She handed Sanders the thread and the FBI has had their hands full unraveling this shitshow ever since. She admitted to meeting up with Jeremy and Curtis at that convention in Dallas, along with eight other kids. Didn’t take long to figure out they were chosen for their vulnerability. Some were victims of bullying, some were abused, some got lost in their parents’ contentious divorces. It was a virtual smorgasbord of angry and angsty teens. Perfect little subjects for his sick game. Lock&Load - Revenge was presented as a platform that would empower them and they were told they’d be the first to test it.

  “Curtis spent a few months grooming them like some fucking cult leader, building them up and manipulating them before he sent them out to recruit more kids. That gave those kids a sense of power, especially when Philips started calling them his ‘original ten.’”

  “Jesus,” I mutter.

  Gives me chills, thinking how clever he was to gain control over the group by pushing exactly the right buttons. What’s even fucking scarier is that Philips is no more than a snot-nosed punk himself, but clearly one with genius-level skills.

  “Let me guess,” I continue. “The murders were some sort of a loyalty test? If you fail, you get booted from the top tier?”

  Dimas chuckles, but it doesn’t sound lighthearted.

  “That, and initiation for the next recruits. They had some other tests they had to complete beforehand—acts of vandalism, issuing threats, that kind of stuff—before they were asked to complete the big one. After each completed task, they would hashtag a message with a Bible verse before moving on to the next one. For the attack on the girl who bullied her in school, Jenny said she had to bring a second, who’d be there to ‘learn.’”

  “So other than the five murders we know of—not including Sarah or the homeless guy—did you connect any others?” I want to know.

  The shelter resident was likely killed because he’d seen something, not because he was an intended victim. I’m sure Sarah was killed, and I would’ve been, because we were closing in.

  “Two more. One in Biloxi and the other in Rochester, New York. Similar MO and Jenny was able to line them up with two of the kids she met in Dallas.”

  “Holy shit. Tell me they’ve got the other ones?”

  “Yeah. She was able to give Sanders the names of the remaining kids and the FBI has picked them up for questioning.”

  “Can you imagine being one of those parents? I’d lock my kid up myself.”

  “No kidding,” Dimas agrees. “There’s a lot still to sort out, but there’s enough to throw the book at Curtis. Armed with Jenny’s testimony, Sanders was able to put pressure on Jeremy Loman. Guess his lawyer saw the writing on the wall and went into negotiation mode to have the kid tried as a minor. He’ll get ten years max.”

  “Not enough,” I grind out.

  “No, it isn’t, and as it turns out he’s the one who shoved the homeless guy off the bridge because Curtis still has his arm in a cast, but the claim is he was coerced into it. He was also complicit in the murder of the waitress at the diner, who apparently was Curtis’ intended victim.”

  “Why? What did she ever do to him?”

  “As I understand it, Emily Philips worked at the diner until she was fired eighteen months ago for skimming the till. Gina Castillo was the one who reported her to the owner. Philips and his mother hit some hard financial times until Curtis won that BAFTA Award. It came with some prize money he used to develop Lock&Load.”

  “The buy-in for the game was a hundred dollars,” I remind Dimas. “Even if just five hundred kids bought in, that would make for a nice little chunk for a teenage kid.”

  “Except it looks like we’re talking thousands, and not just from the US; from all over the fucking world. And apparently not only kids either. Lots of people were looking for the next big thrill in violent gaming and apparently Lock&Load was starting to be a hot commodity. Even for a dark web game.”

  “The shit people do for a thrill,” I observe.

  “Or for money.” Dimas adds. “Whatever Philips’ motivation may have been at the outset; money definitely became another drive. Feds are having a hard time finding it, though.”

  “What? The money?”

  “Yeah. The kid has some serious skills. Too bad none of them are being used for the good.”

  That comment could’ve easily been made about me if Yanis hadn’t pulled me out of that world. Unfortunately, it is way too late for Curtis Philips.

  “Have they talked to his mother yet? I find it hard to believe she’d be completely in the dark about this. Especially after that murder at the diner.”

  “They’re still trying to find her. One train of thought is she took off with the money. She could easily be in Central America somewhere by now, sitting pretty.”

  “With her son in jail?”

  “The kid gets the cold heart from somewhere.” I can’t argue that. “Hang on a sec.”

  I hear some muffled voices in the background and then Dimas is back on the line.

  “Jake’s asking for Hillary to give his wife a call. She’s been trying to get through to her. Maybe her phone’s out of juice.”

  In my mind’s eye I can visualize Hillary taking the leash from my hand and on her way to the door grabbing her phone from the small table in the hall.

  “Yeah, maybe…” I mumble, making my way to the window and peeking through the blinds. I don’t see anyone in the parking lot. “I better go,” I announce in a firmer voice. “She should’ve been back from walking the dog by now.”

  I hang up before he has a chance to answer and head straight for the door.

  Hillary

  I struggle to place the whispered voice.

  It’s a woman, I can tell that much.

  “What do you want?”

  My mind is scrambling and the only reason I’m fighting my instinct to swing around, so I can see her, is the cold pressure of what I’m guessing is a gun on my neck. Phil adds a bark to her growl.

  “Shut that mutt up,” she hisses.

  Phil barks again in response.

  “What do you want with me?” I repeat, a little louder this time, in hopes someone is around to hear me.

  “Get inside.” The barrel of the gun slides up my neck to the base of my skull. “Now.”

  The hope of being seen deflates and I apparently hesitate a second too long. I’m forcefully shoved against the door, which flies open. My bag is knocked from my hand as I stumble inside and trip over the dog. The second I hit the hallway floor, I twist around to find a woman dressed in a black hoodie standing over me with a gun aimed at my face.

  For a second the gun has my complete focus, before I pay attention to the person wielding it. Recognition dawns, but I still shake my head in disbelief.

  “Mrs. Philips?”

  “None of this would’ve happened if not for you,” she spits vehemently.

  I have a hard time reconciling this enraged woman with the outwardly shy and timid mother, who walked into her son’s hospital room and caught me talking to him. I had a hard time seeing the family resemblance then, but I can sure see it now.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I scoot back on my ass, trying to increase the distance, but she takes a step forward in response. The door behind her swings shut but gets stuck on my overnight bag.

  Behind me Phil still growls softly as she presses her trembling body in the small of my back. Despite being as scared as she clearly is, I appreciate the show of support, even though part of me wishes she wasn’t a cute, little fluff ball. I make up my mind on the spot if I get through this; I’m getting a dog, a big mean-looking one.

  “It’s your fault my baby is behind bars. We were doing fine until you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.”

  She’s swaying back and
forth on her feet, her body angled toward me, but the barrel of that gun continues to be aimed unwaveringly at my face.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry?” She laughs hysterically and that scares me even more. “He is my life!”

  I quickly scan my immediate surroundings to see if I can find anything to use as a weapon, but the only thing within reach is a pair of athletic shoes.

  “Not so high and mighty now, are you? You’re nothing but an instigator looking for attention. Even that nurse said you like to cause trouble.” That gets my attention and she must’ve seen my reaction and snickers. “Oh yeah, no love lost there, she was all too ready to point me in your direction, wrote down your address and all. Been waiting to look you in the eye when I make you pay. No one hurts my boy and gets away with it. No one. Not even his daddy. He found out the hard…”

  My God, she’s batshit crazy.

  I stop listening to the ranting woman and start inching closer to the running shoes, but my eyes stay fixed on hers. There’s no doubt in my mind she means to harm me, but I sure as hell don’t intend to go down without a fight, even if my only weapon is a pair of Nike Flex.

  “…I said stop moving!”

  The moment her voice penetrates, I launch myself toward the shoes, but before I can reach them, she fires the gun.

  Everything happens in slow motion as I hit the ground. The door is kicked open and Philomena jumps over my legs, just as Emily Philips swings her gun around on Radar who barges in. She never gets a chance to fire before the dog charges her and clamps her small jaws on the woman’s ankle. A well-aimed kick from Radar knocks the gun from her hand and he takes her to the ground.

  “Lady! Are you okay?” he yells in my direction, as he struggles to keep Emily pinned to the ground with one arm.

  Things have moved so fast I haven’t even had time to take stock of my body. I’m buzzing with adrenaline; so I don’t feel anything, but to make sure I visually check myself. I may have a few bumps and bruises, but I look to still be in one piece.

  “I’m good,” I assure him, catching his worried gaze.

  He lets out an audible sigh and closes his eyes.

  “Thank fuck for that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Radar

  My eyes follow her around the room as she hands out fresh beers.

  I haven’t let her out of my sight once since I barged into her apartment and tackled her attacker the other night. I’d locked my eyes on her and didn’t look away until Jake and Dimas piled through the door; the cops close on their heels.

  They’d torn out of the office the moment I’d hung up to go in search of Hillary. I was more than relieved when they showed up, keeping the spitting-mad woman pinned to the ground had been taxing, despite Phil’s assistance.

  I chuckle at the memory of my eighteen-pound mop of a dog snarling and growling as Emily Philips tried to dislodge her from the ankle Phil clamped onto. After the boys took control of the woman, it had taken me a minute or two of coaxing before the damn dog would let go.

  The woman was taken in by the cops and Dimas notified Sanders, who showed up twenty minutes later to take Hillary’s statement. Not long after Jake called his wife to let her know Hillary was okay and he’d be home in a bit, Rosie stomped in the door, Tessa on her hip, demanding to see for herself. It was a little chaotic and by the time we got everyone out the door and the two of us walked back to my apartment, we’d both been exhausted.

  Phil slept on the bed with us that night, and the night after. I’m afraid we’ve set a precedent there is no return from.

  “With antifreeze?” Hillary responds disbelievingly to something Jake shared as she sits back down beside me.

  I tune back into the conversation.

  Jake had shown up with Yanis half an hour ago to give us an update, and I suspect to check on our welfare. I had my follow-up appointment with the surgeon this morning, who seemed pleased enough with my recovery. He thought I should be ready for work in another two weeks, but warned me that with regular physical therapy it might be another couple of months before I’d feel close to a hundred percent again.

  “Fed it to him in his chili, apparently,” Yanis responds. “The woman is so far gone it’s scary. She seemed proud to share she made it extra spicy so he wouldn’t notice. The man was a raging alcoholic and it didn’t surprise anyone when she said she woke up to find him dead in bed. He was cremated just days after.”

  “And Curtis was how old?”

  “Twelve. If she’s to be believed, both she and her son were beaten regularly. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be hard for any half-decent lawyer to make a claim for insanity. She’s off her rocker.”

  Hillary scoots a little closer and I drape my arm over her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her body seeking comfort from mine. The corner of Yanis’ mouth twitches as he eyes us.

  “The kid himself is clammed up tight, though,” Jake contributes. “He hasn’t said a word, but it doesn’t really matter, the others—starting with his cousin, Jeremy—are talking enough. Sanders is pushing to get Philips tried as an adult and thinks he’ll be lucky if he ever sees the outside again.”

  As much as I believe it’s what he deserves, I can’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for the kid. Sounds like he never had a chance.

  “They probably shouldn’t give him access to computers in jail,” I caution. “With his set of skills, he doesn’t need to be on the outside to be able to create some serious damage. The kid is smart.”

  Yanis grins. “That’s pretty much what Agent Dunlop mentioned in the briefing. Good to know we have some brilliant minds on the right side of the law as well. If not for you, Sarah Dunn, and Matt, I don’t think we’d have been able to resolve this case.”

  My job is of the quiet variety, not rife with heroics or bravery and rarely in the spotlight, and I’m fine with that. I’d like to think I’m beyond craving praise, but I have to admit, it feels damn good to get a pat on the back.

  “So…” Jake pipes up, perhaps sensing my unease with the compliment. “What did the doc say?”

  Not long after I give them my medical update, they take off. Hillary walks back from showing them out and stops in front of me.

  “Have I ever told you I think brilliant minds are incredibly sexy?” she points out with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

  I drop my head back and smile up at her.

  “I don’t think you have.”

  She puts a knee in the couch and swings the other leg over my lap, straddling me. The cool fingers of one hand run through my too-long hair while she plucks my glasses off my nose with the other, setting them on the armrest.

  “It’s probably easier if I show you,” she murmurs, her mouth already descending on mine.

  “Good idea,” I barely manage before she slips her tongue between my lips.

  I grab her hip with one hand and look forward to properly holding on to her again. This past week I’ve let her take the lead, and I’m far from complaining, but I’m getting frustrated I’m limited in the ways I can repay her.

  My mind doesn’t linger there for long when she reaches for my jeans and deftly unbuttons me. I groan down her throat when her hand closes around my cock, her thumb stroking the tip with just enough abrasion to raise goosebumps on my skin.

  She breaks our kiss and runs her tongue down my jaw, flicking my earlobe, before nipping the tendon in my neck.

  “Jesus, Lady,” I groan when she slides off the couch and kneels between my legs.

  Looking down, I watch as she slips my erection between her lips, taking me deep. She hollows her cheeks as her head bobs back up, leaving a sleek trail on my cock. My hips buck involuntarily, chasing the heat of her mouth as she teases me with slow, languid strokes.

  My fingers tangle in her tight curls, trying to take control but she’s not giving up.

  “Please…I need to fuck you,” I grind out, holding on to the release building.

  The moment she lets
me slip from her lips, I grab my dick, squeezing right below the crown to force my climax back.

  “Where do you want me?” she asks, a teasing smile on her slick lips.

  I’m almost beyond caring but indicate the armrest, and the next thing I know she’s naked and bent over, her gorgeous ass in the air, wet glistening. I can’t resist a taste of her while I wrestle my jeans down with one hand. Then with one foot on the floor and a knee in the couch behind her, I line myself up and surge deep inside her.

  We’re both more than primed and in minutes I can feel her pussy flex around me as she throws her head back.

  “Harder…”

  I dig my fingers in her flesh and power my hips to the sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping, until finally she cries out. I follow seconds later and collapse over her back.

  “Fuck…” I pant, barely catching my breath, “…but I love you, Lady.”

  Hillary

  “I need to stop in at the hospital.”

  Radar looks up from the newspaper he’s reading on his laptop with his eyebrows raised.

  “Why? Did you leave something behind?” He starts to get up from his seat and slaps his laptop closed before announcing, “I’ll come.”

  I should’ve known he wasn’t going to let me go by myself. I’ve barely been able to move out of his eyesight. I had to take my phone into the bathroom so I could finally have a private chat with Linda this morning.

  He’s going to be pissed I kept this from him, but I’d been afraid he’d take the information and run with it. I really wanted the gratification of confronting Karla myself first.

  It was obvious it hadn’t been Linda the deranged woman referred to, but I wanted to make sure she’d be around when I talk to my former boss and had a request to make. I guess Radar will be too, since I don’t think I’ll be able to stop him from coming.

  “It may get ugly,” I warn him, which only serves to make him more confused, so I quickly explain, “Emily Philips mentioned something that night about talking to a nurse who didn’t like me much. In fact, she supposedly wrote down my address for Emily.”