Deeper Than Need: A Secrets & Shadows Novel

by Shiloh Walker

  I am grounded. I took off. Over at my girlfriend’s house.

  Adam mentally filed that away. CTaz had a girlfriend. It wasn’t much help. How many teenage boys in this town had a girlfriend? A lot.

  Your folks are going to kill you when you go home. BBlue99.

  One of the more naïve kids in the bunch and Adam worried about that one. Adam had a feeling the kid wasn’t even out of middle school. Was he already drinking?

  I ain’t going home. Now, any of you going to help me? J9? Creed?

  “Shit,” Adam muttered, dragging his hands down his face. Then, forcing his hands to the keyboard, he typed out a response.

  I’m in the dark here, man. What exactly you want me to help with?

  BBlue99’s response came up:

  He wants to burn down the Frampton house.

  J9 was the one who answered:

  Damn it, you fucking idiot. Everybody, shut the window down. New chat, ten minutes.

  “Stupid kids,” Adam whispered. Did they actually think that was going to protect them?

  He closed his window and slumped in the chair, staring into nothing.

  One of the phones on his desk buzzed.

  It was the spare he kept on hand for the chat—he’d listed a phone number under his admin contact, but he didn’t want to put his number there, in case anybody connected it to his name. Quite a few people in this town would shit a brick if they knew for a fact Adam was the man who helped Noah with this forum. Something about fucking his way through half the women just left a bad image, he supposed.

  This was how he’d realized there was a problem.

  He wasn’t surprised to see the message from BBlue there.

  Loki, did you find Noah?

  Sighing, he tapped out a response.

  Not yet, kid. But I will. If I don’t in the next ten minutes, I guess I’ll have to call the cops. Do me a favor, and just don’t leave your house.

  He hoped that would be enough. BBlue desperately wanted friends, needed to be liked and accepted.

  I wont Loki. But I dont wnt thm 2 b hrt. Wht if Creed & J9 go w/CTaz & they get hrt?

  Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where the hell are you, Noah?”

  Then he answered in the only way he could.

  I’ll do everything I can to keep it from happening, okay? I gotta go.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hiding in the basement, listening as Cassidy lied to her folks about cleaning up the place, Caleb Sims squeezed his eyes tightly closed. Down there in the cool, dim quiet, he told himself that finally, finally, after all this time, he’d find a way to get that out of his head.

  That hellish nightmare … the grey room, lit only by flashlights and the urine-colored light streaming down from overhead, that room where he’d cried and pleaded and begged.

  The room where they’d just smiled at him and said, You’ll go in a boy. But sooner or later …

  No more.

  It was going to stop.

  He had a letter that he was going to send. A letter, with pictures, a DVD, all of it. He was sending it to the Indy Star, the second he left town, but before he went he was going to burn down that place.

  It had taken him months to get those pictures.

  They took plenty of pictures. But the pictures they took weren’t the kind he needed. He didn’t want pictures of kids like him. He wanted the sons of bitches who did this. He wanted to nail their balls to the wall and watch them suffer.

  After what they’d done to him.

  To BBlue.

  They told me I had to.

  He didn’t need to know what they’d told Blue.

  They’d told him the same thing.

  How long had they been doing it?

  He didn’t know. Of course, he’d lived in hell so long, it was amazing he knew anything outside that hell.

  The voices still echoed in his ears, even though he hadn’t had to go back there. You only went for a few years. His personal hell had started at fourteen, and for most, it started before you turned fourteen and ended roughly two years later. Those trips to that dark, dingy hell that still had him waking up with screams trapped in his throat.

  The other day he’d passed one of the men on the street and the motherfucker had clapped him on the back.

  You’ll be graduating soon, right? Just another year or so. Then it’s off to college.

  All the words had been nothing but a blur while Caleb had thought about tackling the son of a bitch, shoving him into the street and pounding his head into the pavement until it split like a ripe watermelon and the blood and brains spilled all over the place.

  That was what Caleb had wanted to do.

  He’d almost done it when the cocksucker had said it.

  He’d looked Caleb in the eye and smiled. Once you get out of college, let me know. We’ll help you find a job and there’s a place for you with us. You’re one of us now.

  One of them? Hell would freeze over first.

  A place? Yeah, Caleb had a place. A place he’d like to bury that son of a bitch.

  But unlike that body they’d found buried in Frampton house, they wouldn’t ever find that evil old bastard.

  Caleb’s phone buzzed and he looked down, saw the message.

  It was his mom. He read it and red rolled across his vision.

  Caleb, where are you? I went to get you for dinner and you’re gone. If I have to call your father, you’ll be in so much trouble.

  He deleted it without responding.

  Hunting. That’s what they called it when they got together now since they had to move.

  They didn’t know how fucking easy it was to hunt them down, though. He’d been doing it for months. First at the Frampton house. Then, once the new owner had come in, he’d held his breath, hoped for the best and followed. He’d struck pure gold, too.

  Now it was over. It would stop, all of it. He’d make sure of it.

  Another message popped up.

  Pastor Hal says we need to pray for you and be patient, but I’m running out of patience. Caleb, you need to get home. You’re not to leave here without my permission and you know it.

  He deleted that message, too. Then he looked over at Brian Busby. On the forums, everybody called Brian J9. Brian was the captain of the football team and he’d been the man to tell Caleb how to get booze without getting caught. Caleb was the one to tell Brian he needed to sober up after they found out Brian’s mom was dying—her liver was shutting down.

  Brian had never gone to the grey room, but he didn’t doubt Caleb. Brian had been there when Caleb helped Blue after the kid had come out of the grey hell the first time.

  The two of them had worked together to figure out how to get the proof they needed to stop those cocksucking perverts. They’d hidden the cameras all over the damn kitchen, and then at the new place, and they spent months making sure the faces of the boys weren’t visible in the feed they’d put together.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be usable in court.

  But those men would be ruined.

  Initiation … that’s what the men called it.

  But the boys saw it as something else entirely. It was their annihilation. Their destruction. Or it would be, if they didn’t shut it all down.

  “We doing this?” Brian asked.

  Caleb nodded.

  The best time to do it. There wouldn’t be a better time.

  Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat roll of green. “I was saving it for my car, but you’ll need it more. Once we’re done, you just go. You got the disc and shit, right?”

  Caleb didn’t say anything, just nodded once more. He didn’t know what to say or do.

  Instead of trying to figure it out, they stood up. Brian glanced at the computer and asked softly, “You going to wait and see if the others want in?”

  “No.” Caleb grabbed his bag from the ground. “Creed doesn’t know anything about this and it’s too hard to explain it all right now. Blue’s just a kid. Let’s lea
ve him out of it.”

  Caleb swung his bag and then glanced at Brian. “Make sure you get back home before anybody sees you gone. I don’t want them thinking you did this.”

  * * *

  Caine stood in the shadows across the way, eying the house with more disgust than he’d felt in a good long while.

  There were a lot of people who had a right to hate that house.

  Caine couldn’t even think of how long that list might be.

  Did any of them hate it as much as he did? He didn’t know.

  At least it had all stopped.

  That was all that mattered. The evil son of a bitch was dead. He was gone. Pushing up daisies, in the purest sense. Without him there, none of them would carry on. He’d always been the leader.

  It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

  She was gone, too. She’d turned a blind eye to everything … that simpering, smiling angel so many had adored.

  “Not enough.”

  Still, sometimes Caine wanted so much more. He wanted to see them suffer and burn and die, slow and painful. Because he didn’t trust himself not to give in to those urges, he kept away from here when he wasn’t working and he only worked for a few select people.

  Noah, mostly. He was a decent sort. Blind as hell, but decent.

  So unaware of what he’d uncovered down in that miserable little hole.

  “Why couldn’t you just leave her there?”

  Lifting a slim cigar to his lips, he inhaled slowly, relished the taste of it, the feel of it, and then blew the smoke out as he stared at the house through his lashes.

  Miserable place.

  Images of blood, echoes of screams, tore through his mind and nothing he did could erase those memories. No matter how far he ran, no matter what he did … nothing took it away.

  A woman ran by and he eyed her narrowly, lowered the cigarette as her head slanted toward him.

  Sybil.

  For a moment, he thought she might come his way and part of him hated the thought because he’d have to crush out the cigar—she couldn’t stand the smoke. It bothered her asthma and it would cling to her clothes and it bothered the boy she took care of, too.

  Caine knew all of that because any time he managed to drown out the screams he’d been with her. Moments stolen in the dark, when he buried himself between those long, sleek thighs and forgot about the world.

  But that hadn’t happened in far too long.

  Another part of him was glad, though, when she just kept on running. Sybil had enough shadows in her life, enough trouble. She didn’t need the mess he had with him.

  Of course, that didn’t stop him from throwing his shadows on others. Like Noah.

  Like the family who’d cared for Caine most of his life.

  “You standing there like a stalker, somebody’s going to call the cops on you.”

  At the sound of that voice he slanted a look up the sidewalk, and then he lifted the cigar back to his lips. He left it there and tucked his hands in his pockets. Safer that way, because this was one bastard Caine really didn’t like and if his hands were unoccupied he just might do something he’d end up regretting. “Evening, Adam.”

  Something glinted in Adam’s eyes as he prowled closer. “Evening, Caine. Kind of late for you to be slinking around. Don’t you have nice little Amish girls to be messing with back at home? Why you here hiding in the shadows?”

  “Just killing time,” he murmured, keeping his gaze away from Adam. Caine finished the cigar and smashed it against the tree to put it out. He didn’t leave the butt on the ground, though. Max Shepherd would have his head over that, Caine knew for a fact. “Spent a few hours in the house with Noah today—going to be spending more time here over the next few weeks. Just thinking it all through, that’s all.”

  “The country-boy act don’t work very well with me, son,” Adam said, his lip curling. Then he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “You seen Noah around? I need to talk to him—it’s urgent.”

  Caine lifted a brow; then he looked down at the cigar, wished he hadn’t finished it. “Urgent.” Blowing out a breath, he said softly, “I wonder just what a man like you would call urgent … run out of rum or triple sec? Or maybe there aren’t any more condoms tucked away in your office drawer.”

  A hand snaked out, but Caine swayed out of reach before Adam could make contact. Smiling at Adam in the dusk, Caine said, “Which one is it?”

  “None of it, you fucking idiot. One of the kids from the forums is in trouble—and if you know shit about Noah, you’ll know he’d want to know.”

  Caine stopped in his tracks.

  Then he sighed and nodded at the house up on the hill, visible in the moonlight, outlined against it in stark, solemn relief.

  “He went in there, Brascum,” Caine said quietly. “A while ago, with the woman who lives there. About thirty minutes ago, a light in the hallway went on upstairs, near the front bedroom. I imagine it was her room.” He waited a second. “Then the light went off. I reckon you can add two and two as well as I can. You really need to go bothering him now?”

  Adam’s brows arched over his eyes. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Noah?” For a second, dumb shock reflected in Adam’s eyes, and then he swore and wheeled around, sprinting for the house.

  The sound of him bellowing out Noah’s name was enough to curdle Caine’s blood.

  * * *

  Noah thought maybe three times would be enough … for a few hours. Maybe a day. Not much more, although he’d have to make it work, because the next time he made love to Trinity he wanted her to be his wife.

  It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought he’d be contemplating, until recently, very recently, but now it all but consumed him. She stood a few feet away, slipping the petticoat up over her hips, and he moved up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist. Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he smiled as that little shiver raced through her. “You said yes. Right?”

  “Yes.” She chuckled and turned around, grinning up at him. “I said yes. Now keep your hands to yourself so we can go to Ali’s and tell Micah. Then we can call my dad and…” She puffed up her cheeks and blew out a breath. “Wow. I have to plan a wedding. Like fast.”

  “Yes. Like fast. We can plan it. I’ll help.”

  She slid her arms around his waist. “We can plan it.” She hugged him tight, then eased away.

  Noah’s phone rang. He sighed as he saw Adam’s number. “I’m going to have to call him soon and see what’s so important.”

  “Go ahead and call.”

  Phone in hand, he mumbled, “Yeah.” But his mind wasn’t on Adam. His mind, his eyes, his entire attention, was on the curve of Trinity’s butt, visible under that silly, insanely sexy petticoat as she bent over and swept her dress up from the floor.

  She turned around and he jerked his gaze upward as a blush settled on his cheeks. She arched her brows at him and he grinned at her. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Um … well…” He scraped his nails down the growth of stubble on his face. “I guess I could say I really like the petticoat. How about that?”

  Trinity chuckled, a low, husky sound that hit him in the gut like she’d reach out and caressed him. He thought maybe he’d try for a fourth time, but before he could make a move on that, she sighed and pushed her hair back from her face, looking around the bedroom.

  “I guess we’ll have to talk about where we’ll live,” she said softly.

  The heat that had built inside him died a quick, icy death. “Not here.”

  The words escaped him before he could stop it and he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry. This house … I just…”

  “Not here,” she agreed, tugging her dress on. “I definitely like that idea. We’ll figure that out, too. I—”

  A shout rang from somewhere outside.

  They both turned their heads and looked to the window.

  It came again, closer.

/>   “Noah!”

  They rushed to the window.

  * * *

  They came through the woods.

  Caleb knew that path like the back of his hand and even walking it made his skin crawl, made his belly pitch and roll. He knew the way, though, knew how to avoid being seen by the judge.

  Couldn’t go around the front and couldn’t make any noise until they went inside. Something about the way the house was located, right there on the hill, he’d been told. Sound carried. If they had to talk, it was in low whispers and absolutely nothing more.

  No bright lights, either.

  If they were careful, the judge wouldn’t even know they’d been there.

  Yeah, Caleb was an old pro at escaping the judge’s attention out here.

  Now Caleb ignored the pitching sensation in his belly, watching Brian finish the two cocktails.

  Caleb wouldn’t have any idea how to do this, but Brian acted like he’d been doing it his entire life.

  His hands moved over the supplies he’d brought along, certain and steady, and Caleb felt like he was going to shit his pants.

  “You sure that ain’t going to explode or anything?”

  Brian flashed him a grin. “No. Not until we make it. We set fire to it, lob it and run.”

  “Sure it will burn the fuck out of this place?” Caleb glanced around, keeping a careful eye on the judge’s house a few dozen yards away. If the old man saw them, they were done. He’d have the cops out here in no time.

  “It should do it. Old house. Remember the fire at my grandma’s? That started from a damn cigarette … her house was old like this.” Brian shrugged. Then he looked up. “My uncle is supposed to help with the wiring here and he was talking about how out-of-date everything is. Was grumbling about it, how wasted the walls here are. As old as this place is, it will burn like a motherfucker.” Then Brian nodded at the grill over by the back door. It was missing the propane tank. “It’s going to do more than burn, with all that gas. It’s not in the kitchen, right?”

  “No.” It had taken everything Caleb had to walk into that house at night, to use the key he’d swiped from his dad—Caleb had done it while his dad was out of town on a business trip and driven an hour away from Madison to get a copy made. “It’s by the back door, just inside it. Two rooms away. Should be enough.”