by Jordan Dane
And the rat that darted for cover had triggered a panic attack. Dizziness set her adrift in the dark—her equilibrium challenged—and the nausea returned. She felt as if she were being smothered, unable to catch her breath. And her heart punished her ribs. She almost lost it. Her nerves were fraying, a slow torture.
If she was Harper’s last chance, God help him.
She stepped closer to the source of the dim light in the room, a spot behind a wooden post that had been a remnant of an old shelf. As she neared, she knew where the light was coming from, and her eyes brimmed with tears. A glimmer filtered through a hole, one she had dug many years ago. She ducked behind the post and knelt. Trash she’d stuffed into the cavity, to keep the man from finding it, had long since blown away or rotted.
Moonlight and the distant city lights streamed through it now. And a faint breeze touched her cheek as she peered through the crack. She remembered how it felt to see through it for the first time. Back then she’d worn down an old spoon and a few big nails that she’d used as tools to cut through two layers of cracked old brick. The simple comfort of fresh air on her face had made her cry then, as it did now. And images of her first encounter with little Samantha Cooper flooded her mind.
She thought she had been found that day, that someone would come to rescue her, but Sammie must not have understood. And when days went by and help never came, the setback crushed her spirit, finally and completely. She’d never told anyone that, especially not Sam. Hell, she hated admitting it to herself.
She had tried to bury that thought, but being here again was a cruel reminder that Danny Ray Millstone had beaten her down. He’d stolen her innocence and robbed her of ever feeling safe again. He died the day she was rescued, but she got a life sentence. A rush of sadness hit her hard, as if it had happened only yesterday. She clutched a fist to her chest and shut her eyes, fighting back the pain.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Please.” Her version of a prayer.
But Harper needed her now. This wasn’t about her demons. She had to find Seth.
She stood on shaky legs. And when she was ready, she ventured into every corner of Millstone’s basement. There were lots of places to keep secrets. This had been her world for a time. And she knew it well.
When she got to a familiar air vent, she knelt once more and listened. Jess never thought she would be in this very spot again—the place where she’d first seen Max Jenkins and witnessed the end to her living hell. Struggling to block out a rush of dark memories, she listened at the vent, but her gaze trailed down to the large, dark splatter that stained the floor near her feet.
Stay focused, Jess. She fought to control her breathing.
Shutting her eyes to concentrate, she was surprised how little she’d forgotten. From this point, sounds in the house echoed and traveled through the air vents. Noises from the floors above could be heard by sitting very still and listening. She’d gotten good at deciphering what they meant. It had been her early-warning system when she was held captive. If the man had plans for her, she’d hear it through the air vents first.
But hearing noises from deep within the house also had its price. Every kid crying alone and the torturous screams of others had scarred her. There were nights she still heard them, even now.
She’d never be free of Danny Ray Millstone and his house. Not ever.
As a tear dried on her cheek, she heard a soft footstep above. Her head jerked toward the noise, and she stood. The ground floor was her guess. Although listening through the air vent was tricky, she knew the sound had been too close for it to come from the second or third floor. It could be Alexa, but if she heard the woman’s footsteps, then so could someone else—someone who might know the house better than her friend.
She had thoroughly searched the basement and hoped the worst was behind her. Now it was time to find Alexa and put an end to this, but one thing she knew with certainty.
Harper was here. She felt it.
The house on High Street had a vibe to it—the kind that haunted anyone who came here. Alexa sensed the smell of old death and something…more. She wasn’t one to believe in evil spirits, yet something lingered in this place.
And she hadn’t been immune to its force.
She’d nearly finished her search of the first floor, the process slow going in the dark. Her night vision had improved. And she took advantage of every elusive trace of light that had found its way into the gloom.
But the creak of a loose floorboard forced her to stop.
Holding her gun in both hands, she listened for a beat, then crept along a wall, hoping to avoid the same mistake of stepping on a creaky board. Up ahead, she sensed a presence, and the hair on her neck drove goose bumps down her arms. She fixed her eyes on a subtle movement across the floor, a vague shift of light.
Or had she only imagined it?
Jessie. She had to remember that Jessie had gone missing in the house. The shadow up ahead could be her. Alexa gripped her weapon and crept closer, but movement to her right startled her. She turned and aimed her weapon. An open doorway.
That’s when she heard it.
“It’s me,” the bounty hunter whispered from behind cover, then moved into view. Not much more than a shadow, she raised her arms and let herself be seen.
But if Jessie had been to her right, who stood in the shadows ahead?
Alexa wouldn’t wait to find out the hard way. Without a word of warning to Jessie, she held up her weapon and headed to the next doorway down the hall. She saw the bounty hunter tense beside her and fall into step.
Down to the left, a shadow moved and eclipsed a very faint light. It drifted as if it were a ghost. And she heard a muffled gasp, at least she thought she had. With her heart hammering her chest and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Alexa pushed her shoulders to a wall and inched closer for a better look.
She held her breath and peered around the corner.
Across the room, she spied a pale glimmer under another door, one with a series of heavy metal brackets, like coat hooks, screwed on the outside of it. And movement obscured the light that spilled onto the floor. Someone was behind the door.
Alexa stepped into the room with Jessie at her back. She moved to the closed door, wedging her body along the far doorjamb. And Jessie took the nearest one. The sparse light from below cast eerie shadows into the room, shedding light on the haunted eyes of the bounty hunter. She’d never seen Jessie frightened like this. The woman was normally rock solid, but something had a firm hold on her.
She nudged her head toward Jessie—her way of asking if she was ready. When the bounty hunter grimaced and gave her attitude with one look, Alexa knew Jessie would back her up.
Being cautious, she listened at the door and heard the soft gasp again. With another nod, she signaled to Jessie and reached for the doorknob. She turned it slowly and realized it was open. One more time she caught the eye of the bounty hunter, then shoved the door open.
Gun drawn, she charged inside, with Jessie close behind. Half the room was steeped in shadows, but a dim light shone from a far corner. It was enough to force her to wince, protecting her night vision.
What the hell…?
It was the last thought she remembered.
Alexa entered the room first, taking the lead into a windowless chamber that was dark except for a single light on the floor. The beam reflected up, positioned against the far wall. With her Colt Python aimed, Jess avoided squinting into the light that would screw with her night vision. Instead her eyes fixed on a dark silhouette of a man sitting across the room. His shoulders were slumped, and the dim light profiled his face.
She didn’t see what happened to Alexa until it was too late.
Jess heard a loud thud and caught a glimpse of another man, his movement a blur. Alexa’s body blocked her view. And time slowed to a sluggish crawl. She watched as her arm shifted, holding the Colt Python, but Alexa collapsed into her. The blow knocked her off-balance. It took everything she
had to hold on to her gun, but Alexa’s weapon skittered into the dark.
When Jess hit the floor, Alexa collapsed on top of her. She shoved the woman aside and grappled for her footing. But as she got to her knees, she came face-to-face with a gun muzzle pointed dead center, right between her eyes. That was enough incentive to stop her cold.
Panting, Jess knew she’d been beat. She slowly set her gun down and shoved it toward the man, then raised her hands, hoping he wouldn’t shoot.
“Okay…okay. You win.” She took a quick look down to see if Alexa was still breathing. She never saw what happened. “What did you do to her?”
Alexa had a nasty gash over her eyebrow. Blood pooled under her head, making her blond hair glisten in the faint light. Jess wanted to stop the bleeding, but when she leaned toward the woman, a man’s booming voice stopped her.
“You…stay put,” he ordered, raising his weapon and kicking her gun behind him into the dark. “By the time your friend wakes up, this’ll all be over.”
He made it seem as if Alexa would walk away from this, but she knew better. Jess shifted her gaze to the spiky-haired man with a nose ring, who had grown careless with his gun, waving it in the air to punctuate his demands. It took her a moment to recognize him, but when she did, surprise made her flinch. And remembering his name had challenged her too.
“Jake Cordell, isn’t it?” She forced a smile when he lowered his weapon. “You’re a long way from Dirty Monty’s. What’s this got to do with you?”
She hated admitting her ignorance, but getting him to talk was important. Her mind raced with why Jake was willing to kill to cover his ass. He wasn’t a drug-dealing pimp, or a thug with an attitude and a quick knife, or even a guy trying to hide stolen merchandise. The guy was the bartender at Dirty Monty’s—a damned barkeep—the bastard who had her chasing after tattoos and no doubt lied about everything he’d told her about Mandy.
In an instant she realized she was back at square one—and completely screwed.
“No way. I got the gun. That means I ask the questions.” He narrowed his eyes, anger seething behind them. “This kid should’ve come alone. Now you’re all fucked.”
He clenched his jaw, looking real mean. But when he realized that whatever plan he had, it was about to blow up, his face got red, and he yelled, “Why are you here, damn it?”
Spittle ran down his chin. And she heard the panic in his voice. The man looked like it wouldn’t take much to shove him over the edge. He walked toward the door, looked outside to make sure they didn’t have company, then shut it. Guess he didn’t like surprises. Her eyes followed Jake, looking for a way to get a jump on him. But being on her knees gave her a disadvantage.
Recognition flickered in the bartender’s eyes. He stared at her, then jabbed his gun into her face, and asked, “Hey…didn’t you say you worked for an insurance company?” When she shrugged, he spat, “You lied!”
Given all that had happened, the guy was actually pissed at her for lying? Unbelievable.
“Murder trumps lying. Guess you win.” When humor didn’t defuse the situation, she tried a distraction. “Where’s Seth, by the way?”
She tried to keep the edge from her voice. But when Jake’s eyes shifted to the floor behind her, she slowly turned her head to look.
“Oh no,” she gasped. “Seth.”
CHAPTER 25
Her eyes took in the rest of the room for the first time as Jess rocked back on her haunches, taking the weight off her knees. The gasp they’d heard outside the door must have been Seth’s father, Max. At the edge of the shadows, the feeble man sat on a wooden bench, his wheelchair missing. He quietly sobbed, staring down at the body of his son.
That’s when she saw Seth. His foot was bent at an odd angle. Belly down, he lay twisted on the floor at his father’s feet, with most of his body in darkness. And the familiar tang of blood hit her. She willed him to move, but when he didn’t, she searched for any signs of breathing. There were none.
Jess nearly choked. Her body shook. And something deep inside her broke. The onset of another panic attack gripped her, but when she crawled toward Seth, Jake stopped her with a vicious kick. She rolled to lessen the blow, but he’d gotten a piece of her ribs.
“Don’t move! Or I’ll kill the old man,” he yelled, shoving the gun barrel against Max’s head. “Nothing you can do for the kid anyway.”
She grimaced in pain and fixed her eyes on the man with the gun.
“Is Seth…” She couldn’t say it.
Looking deranged, Jake paced the floor and ran a nervous hand through his hair, the whites of his eyes showing. His mind elsewhere.
“This is all wrong,” he muttered. “It didn’t have to go down like this. This was supposed to look like the kid offed himself.”
It pained her to think about Seth. And if she had been alone with Jake, with no one else to worry about, she would have taken out her rage on him. But that wasn’t the case. Max needed her help, and Seth would have wanted her to take care of his father. That meant she wouldn’t wait for a crazy man with a gun to decide their fate. After taking a deep breath, she forced herself to deal with their grim situation and the bastard holding them at gunpoint.
“Tell me about Mandy, Jake.”
She’d been careful not to accuse him of killing the girl. And even though reminding the man of his body count was a risk, she had to get him talking to buy time. And maybe with luck, he’d make a mistake.
“Wasn’t my fault,” he rambled as he fidgeted, scratching his head with the muzzle of his gun. “She brought it on herself. Not me.”
“The crank made her crazy?” She gave him an opening to tell his version of the truth, acting as if she were on his side.
Ignoring her—maybe not even hearing her question—Jake pointed his gun at Seth, and ranted, “You know that kid really screwed it up. He had that whore believing she could change her life and get clean. And that bitch believed him,” he screamed, his voice cracking. “It was his fault.”
Jess saw him losing control and moved a leg to put one foot on the floor, balancing her weight on a knee. In his condition, Jake might not see her shift position, but if she had leverage, she could rush him.
“But why kill her…that way?” she asked, keeping her posture passive with head low.
“I asked that, too.” He laughed. A strangled guttural sound. “She could’ve OD’d. That would’ve done it.” He gestured wildly. “And none of us would be here…like this.”
It took a moment for his words to register.
“Asked who, Jake?” She softened her voice, downplaying her desperate need to know. “Who else was involved in Mandy’s murder?”
“No one,” he yelled, pointing his gun at her again. “SHUT UP! Just shut up…so I can think.”
As fast as the guy was unraveling, he didn’t strike her as the mastermind behind all this.
“Why was she killed, Jake?” she pressed.
At first, she wasn’t sure he’d answer. He shot her a glare and aimed his gun, taking away her breath. But eventually he lowered the weapon.
“Desiree overheard something she shouldn’t have,” he began. Then in a move that surprised her, Jake added, “It was my fault.”
“What do you mean, your fault?”
“She overheard a conversation about a side business I had going.” He shook his head. “I thought she’d be cool…keep her mouth shut out of…gratitude. Hell, I let her operate under Beladi’s nose, for cryin’ out loud, but that wasn’t enough for her.”
“She ask you for money?” Her way of asking about Mandy’s blackmail scheme.
“Yeah, said she wanted to leave town.” Jake raised his voice. “That kid convinced her she could start a new life, like her slate could be wiped clean. Can you believe it?” With his chest heaving, he never slowed his pace. Jake looked like a caged hamster running a wheel, with no place to go. “I would’ve been okay with payin’ her off, but…”
He stopped.
&nbs
p; “But someone didn’t think that was good enough,” she took a guess. “…and didn’t trust your judgment?”
The bartender didn’t reply, but if looks could kill, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think the lethal laser shooting from his eyes could smoke her.
What the hell had Jake been thinking to lay claim to a piece of the smoker’s turf? Nadir Beladi hadn’t built his drug and prostitution business by playing nice. The man was smart and a damned viper when it came to controlling what was his. And being surrounded by family, he had others covering his back. That was why the DA had had trouble pinning murders and other crimes on him.
But Jake definitely had an accomplice. Someone more ruthless with an edge of cruelty had tricked him into staging Harper’s suicide, which included the heartless murder of an old man with dementia—a move that was lower than low.
“What little enterprise did you have going on the side?” she asked out of curiosity. “Prostitution?”
She remembered what he’d said about allowing Mandy to conduct her blow-and-go freelance work down the street from the bar, a solo act that kept her in crank. Maybe the bartender hadn’t lied about everything he’d told her. But when he didn’t answer, she guessed something else.
“Fencing stolen merchandise?”
That got a reaction. Jake looked at her with eyes narrowed. Had Mandy been the link between Jake “the snake” Cordell and her old boyfriend, Jason Burke?
“I’m done talking,” he said.
But Jess wasn’t done asking. “Weren’t you afraid Beladi and Pinzolo would find out you were operating under their noses?”
By his sudden reaction, she knew she’d struck a chord. The madman with the wild eyes was back. He aimed his gun at her head, and yelled, “Shut the fuck up!”
Jess knew she had pushed too hard.
It took all her concentration to think through what he’d told her. Keeping her mind off Seth’s body had been a challenge. But now she had to focus on getting Max and Alexa out of here—the strain made worse as she glanced toward the old man.