Tainted

by Dani Matthews

  Two paramedics rush over carrying a stretcher, and the female paramedic bends down beside me. “I’ll take over.”

  I nod and rise to my feet, looking around as I wipe my bloody hands on my jeans. Blue and red lights are flashing everywhere as police descend upon the scene.

  “Brooks!” Martinez hurries over. “I sent Bruggs and Cadara to help evacuate Bull’s,” he informs.

  I nod and give him a grim look. “Clark didn’t make it.”

  He stares long and hard at me. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I passed her on my way out here. She sustained a severe head injury.”

  Martinez curses and looks around, obviously at a loss for words.

  “I left Ren in the office, I need to get her out of here,” I tell him.

  He nods, rubbing his face. “We’ve got this.”

  Before the words have fully passed his lips, I’m already rushing back to Bull’s. I have to climb over large pieces of concrete and drywall just to get inside. It’s like trying to make my way through a maze. Once I break free of the worst of the damage, I hurry to the back of the building.

  I spy a man propped against the wall by the kitchen, and I drop down to search for a pulse. There’s a huge gash in his thigh, and with so much blood on the floor around him, I’m assuming he’s already passed on, but I still need to check. When I don’t find a pulse, I rise to my feet and turn for the hall knowing there’s nothing that can be done.

  The office door is wide open.

  Fuck!

  “Ren!” I shout, racing into the office and skidding to a halt. I look around the empty room, my heart pounding inside my chest. She was supposed to stay put. My training kicks in, and I calm myself and inspect the door, checking the locks. There’s no sign of forced entry, which means Ren left on her own—probably to help those that were injured. I grit my teeth so hard that it hurts. She’d promised that she’d stay put, damn it.

  I should have known better.

  I quickly leave the office and make my way down the hall. When I enter the bar, I look around the chaos. “Ren!” I yell.

  No one resembles her, and I move behind the bar where there should be a pile of towels. If I were her, the first thing I’d do is grab towels to help those that are bleeding.

  A handful of towels are on the floor with a few blood smears, but what draws my attention is the gun laying on the floor beside them. Ren would never leave the gun on the floor, and every muscle inside me goes rigid.

  Son of a bitch!

  I run towards the back exit of the building while I call Martinez. “Donahue has Ren,” I inform as soon as he answers.

  Martinez swears loudly in my ear. “How the hell did that happen?” he barks.

  “I’ll explain later. I’m headed to my truck to track her.”

  “We’ll follow you in a few,” Martinez says before abruptly ending the call.

  I’ve reached my truck, and I climb in, starting the engine. Before I put the truck in gear, I bring up the app on my phone that allows me to locate Ren. When I see the active red dot on the screen moving down familiar streets, I begin to calm.

  Thank God for the earrings.

  The wheels of the truck lay rubber as I maneuver the truck out of the parking lot. The street is packed with emergency vehicles, and I steer the truck up onto the sidewalk and bump over it to make my way around a fire truck. Once I’m back on the street, I lay on the gas and head in the direction that Donahue’s taking Ren.

  My eyes dart between my phone and the streets as I drive. I’m gaining on them, but then the red dot stops.

  Shit.

  As I pass through an intersection by the skin of my teeth, I send up a quick prayer that I get to Ren in time. This is the very thing I’d been hoping wouldn’t happen. Ren was never supposed to be alone with that psycho, and I can only imagine the terror she’s experiencing.

  The dot still isn’t moving.

  I’m two blocks from where the dot is located. I swerve around a car that’s going the legal speed limit and turn onto the next street, tires screeching in protest.

  When I reach the street they’re located on, I ease up on the gas as my eyes scan the area. There are no signs of movement, and unfortunately, cars are parked up and down the streets since this is a residential area.

  This isn’t good.

  After pulling over and putting the truck in park, I lean towards the passenger side and grab a flashlight out of the glove compartment. Then, I hurriedly climb out of the truck, phone glowing in the dark as I flash the light around the area. My gut is telling me that Donahue isn’t in the vicinity, and I have a bad feeling.

  There’s a space up ahead where a vehicle had been parked between two others, and the flashing red dot on my phone is located in that area. As I approach, I flash the light in the parked vehicles as I pass by. They all appear to be empty.

  I pause on the pavement between the two cars, frowning. I should be right on her. I begin to inspect the closest vehicle, looking around as I run a hand over the hood. The engine’s warm, and I can hear it settling.

  This must be the vehicle Donahue had used. My eyes reluctantly drop to the pavement, and I flash the light around the car. I move around to the side near the curb. Something glints in the light, and I spy a pile of clothing and a familiar bra laying discarded on the grass.

  The air stalls in my lungs as I squat down and look at the items closely. The earrings with the tracker are on the pavement directly below the curb, and blood can be seen clinging to the small posts. They’d obviously been torn from Ren’s ears.

  My fingers tighten around the flashlight as I rise to my feet, and I sweep its beam over the empty parking space. Donahue had an unknown, second vehicle waiting, and after ridding Ren of her clothing, he’d driven off in it.

  The fucker’s not taking any chances.

  And now Ren’s completely on her own—exactly what she’d feared would happen. She’d kept warning me that it would end like this, and I’d vowed that it wouldn’t.

  Twenty-eight

  Ren

  My head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. The sensation makes me feel ill, and my head aches while my earlobes sting. This is definitely not one of my hangovers. I’m becoming aware that I’m crammed into a small space, and I instinctively try to stretch my legs, but my bare feet meet with a carpeted surface.

  What the hell?

  My eyes fly open, and the darkness that greets me causes my heart rate to kick up a notch. Had Holden turned off the light?

  I try to sit up, and my head slams into something as pain promptly blooms across my forehead. A groan escapes, and I collapse onto my back. It’s beginning to dawn on me that I’m not wearing anything but my panties, and apparently, my ankles are tied together. So are my wrists.

  Icy panic begins creeping up my spine as I recall the explosion at Bull’s. Oh God. My father was there…

  No, no, no…

  I draw in shallow pants as I begin to realize that I’m in a trunk in a moving car. Instinctively, I bring my bound wrists to my face and touch my earlobes, wincing. They feel sticky and raw.

  The earrings are gone.

  It takes a full minute for my predicament to sink in, and then I let loose desperate screams and slam my feet against the side of the trunk. This can’t be happening! Tears fall from my eyes as I shove my hands against the solid surface above my head—desperate to escape the confined space.

  Of course, nothing gives, but my natural instinct is to fight my captivity. Eventually, I become exhausted, and my raw throat gives out. There’s no more fight left in me, and I lie there in the dark, gulping in the stale air.

  The gun, the earrings, they’re gone. I am once more all alone with my father. A thick lump has formed in my throat, and I struggle to calm my breathing.

  Okay, think, I tell myself. I’ve had time to panic, and now I need to put it aside and focus on how to get out of this mess. I know my father has plans to kill me, but I’m also not dead until
I draw my last breath. Holden has drilled it into my head that I can’t give up. His lectures always consisted of focusing on the possibilities, not the current situation. If I can’t escape now, there may come a time later that I’ll have the chance.

  His lectures were a lot more appealing when I wasn’t tied up inside a car trunk. God, I miss him. He must be so disappointed in me for going against his instructions. He’d warned me the bomb might be a distraction, but I hadn’t quite believed it. I mean a bomb?? My chest tightens as I think of all the people that’d lost their lives just so that my father had a chance to grab me…and I’d fallen for it. We’d known that he’d come for me when we’d least expect it, and here I am. But not because of any fault of Holden’s.

  This is all on me.

  I swallow hard and know that I need to prepare for what will happen once we reach our destination. He’d just kidnapped a woman last night, which means she’s likely wherever we’re going. Am I going to have to watch him brutally murder her? Can I go through that again? Or will he torture and kill me first to taunt her? Sadly, the possibilities are endless. Knowing I can’t continue down this line of thought, I think of Holden and tell myself that this will end differently.

  Last time, I was on my own and no one knew I was at the cabin and what was happening. This time, I have people looking for me. Holden won’t stop until he finds me.

  * * *

  The sound of the trunk opening yanks me out of the restless sleep I’d succumbed to. I squint, and sudden brightness blinds me as fresh air sweeps into the confined space. My eyes can’t quite adjust, but I sense that it’s sunlight that’s streaming into the trunk.

  A shadow hovers over me, and I use my bound hands to blindly strike at it. My hands are pushed aside, and I feel a pinprick in my shoulder. No! Not again! “Stop!” I say hoarsely, pushing against an arm.

  “I can’t have you screaming at the truck stop. Besides, we have a way to go yet, it’s better this way,” I hear my father say.

  Is it? Is it better to be awake in the confined space or blessedly unconscious? Either way, I don’t have a choice.

  The bright light fades as my eyelids drift closed.

  Twenty-nine

  Holden

  It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Ren was abducted, and I haven’t slept for a second. How the hell had I let this happen? I’d known that the explosion could be a distraction, and yet I’d still caved to Ren’s wishes. I’d seen in her eyes that if I hadn’t helped the injured, she would have held it against me for a long time to come. The guilt of watching women being brutally murdered has tainted her in ways that I’ll probably never understand. Her childhood was twisted, and after the murders in the cabin, she feels responsible for anyone that comes between her and her father. I just couldn’t ignore her desperation to help in some small way—even if it was me doing the helping instead of her.

  I’m tired of pacing, and I drop down onto the nearest chair. The task force has set up camp in my apartment for the time being. It’s more comfortable than working around the clock at the police department.

  Martinez ends his phone conversation and pockets his cell phone before glancing at me. “You need to sleep.”

  I shoot him a look through red, burning eyes. I can’t possibly sleep when Ren is out there suffering.

  Martinez looks to where Bruggs and Cadara are sitting at the kitchen table, papers and files scattered across the surface. They’ve been looking into the Chicago files to see if anything can help us figure out where Donahue had taken Ren. A local team had already been sent to the cabin in the woods where Donahue had originally begun his killing spree. So far, there’s no sign of his return.

  When Bruggs happens to look up, Martinez gives a quick jerk of his head, signaling that he wants to speak with me privately. Bruggs motions to Cadara, and the men rise to their feet and leave the apartment to wait in the hallway outside. Harris has the day off to mourn the loss of his partner, but he has every intention of continuing to work the case with us.

  Martinez turns on me as soon as we’re alone, and he drags a chair over and plants it in front of me. He sits down and gives me a hard look. “You’re no good to anyone if you can’t keep your eyes open.”

  “I can keep them open just fine.”

  He shakes his head. “Right now, sleep deprivation is your enemy. Soon, you’re not going to be able to focus or function. How is that going to help Serenity?”

  “I can’t sleep. Just the thought…”

  “Just the thought?” he questions. “The thought of what?”

  I remain silent, not sure how to put into words what I’m feeling.

  Martinez gives me a severe look. “You fell for her, didn’t you?”

  Whether he approves or not is the least of my concerns, and I look him in the eye. “Yes.”

  “Brooks,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know whether to admire your hard-headed tenacity where she’s concerned or if I should kick you to the curb for being unprofessional.”

  “I never flaked on the job,” I bite out.

  “You let it get personal.”

  “Then fire me, because she was worth it.”

  Martinez gives me a warning look. “You’re walking a fine line with me. I suggest you shut it and get some sleep. You’re off the case until you do.”

  I stare at him, and even as anger forms, I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut. He has every right to pull me off the case if that’s what he wants, and I can’t do a damned thing about it.

  He looks at me steadily. “You know her better than anyone else, which means you might hold the key to finding her. I don’t want to kick you off the case if I don’t have to, but you need to be clearheaded or nothing you say or do can be taken seriously. Get some sleep.”

  I nod with resignation.

  “Go,” he says, nodding to the hall.

  It stings like a bitch being chewed out by my superior, but I also know deep down that I deserve it. Without a word of protest, I haul myself out of the chair and make my way to the bedroom. After closing the door, I drop down onto the mattress and stare up at the ceiling.

  Somewhere out there, Ren’s alone and living out her worst nightmare.

  Thirty

  Ren

  As I begin to stir, I become aware that I’m sitting upright. My mouth is horribly dry, and I swallow past the lump in my throat as I struggle to open my eyes. It’s difficult to focus, and as my blurry eyes slowly adjust, I tentatively move my hands. I find that they’re secured to what feels like the arms of a wooden chair. The chair is uncomfortable, and my butt already feels numb from its firm surface.

  At least I’m no longer in the car trunk. And apparently, I’ve been given clothes. I can feel fabric across my chest from a loose shirt, and I think I’m wearing leggings. My feet are still bare, and the cement beneath them is cold. A chill is already causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

  The room comes into focus, and a dark wave of uneasiness comes over me. I’m in a basement of sorts. It’s old with cement block walls and two, small windows near the ceiling, allowing sunlight to filter into the dusty room. The room is unfinished with exposed ceiling beams and joists. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and in the corners of the room, and the entire floor is uneven cement which dips down in the center where a drain is located.

  Not far from where I sit is an old, metal table. There’s nothing on it, but a stool is situated beside it. I know that can’t be good. I quickly look away and scan the rest of basement. Across the room, against a bare wall, is an old washing machine and dryer positioned side by side. A metal shelf is attached to the wall above and looks to have an array of detergents, scrub brushes and stain removers. A tall, metal shelving unit half-full of canned goods stands in the corner not far from the washing machines.

  Between myself and the far wall, there is an old staircase leading to what must be the main floor. Thanks to the walls that frame the sides of it, a person could almost mistake it for a room div
ider. The floorspace below the stairs is open, and stored there are boxes filled with odds and ends.

  My eyes swing to the opposite side of the room, and I see an old bed with a wrought iron headboard. A woman with long, dark hair is lying on it and appears to be unconscious. She’s fully clothed, and I can see a shackle of some sort fastened around her neck. My eyes follow the chain to where it’s secured to the headboard. The sight of her causes my stomach to churn, and I note the bloody bandage where her left pinkie used to be.

  It’s happening all over again.

  “It’s been a while, Serenity.”

  My head whips around, and I find my father standing to my right. He hadn’t been there a moment ago, and I don’t know how he’d managed to sneak up on me.

  He hasn’t changed much in the five years that I’d been running from him. He’s still a tall, commanding figure, and yet he looks approachable in neatly pressed khaki pants and a short-sleeved shirt. His blond hair is now mostly gray, and he’s gained some weight around his midsection. This man, he was once my hero, but now I know what lurks in the depths of those blue eyes. Just the sight of him disturbs me on so many levels. I’ve witnessed him do so many depraved things that I can barely stand to look at him.

  I inhale through my nose, calmly breathing as my heart thunders in my ears. The fact that I am in the same room with him and haven’t been thrown into horrific flashbacks tell me that I’d been healing from the trauma I’d witnessed in Chicago. Now, unfortunately, I’ll be forced to witness more, and this time, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold onto my sanity.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Cat got your tongue? Hard to believe considering you’ve done plenty of talking recently,” he mocks.

  “You’re sick,” I say hoarsely.