11

by Kylie Brant

  He took another hose that was hanging loose on the wall and fitted it to the lid above her. Within moments a fine mist began spraying through the small holes at the top. “I know you’ll be tempted to fight. To struggle. Let me show you what will happen if you do.” He rocked the box violently and her eyes widened as the trickle at the front turned into a gush. The light mist became a heavy spray.

  In the short bout of activity, at least three times as much water entered the chamber. “Stop!”

  He laughed delightedly, giving the side of the container an affectionate pat. “It’s motion activated. The hoses begin the flow, but the slightest movement of the box increases it substantially. There’s a drain, of course, but it can only be operated from the outside. Struggle or not, it will take a bit to fill and I have to get back to my guests.” He straightened. “Probably should change my clothes first. I’ll be back in a bit. It’s when the chamber is nice and full that the fun really starts.” She heard a repeated clicking sound. Realized in a wash of despair that he was latching the lid.

  And the tiny sound of each lock being secured just punctuated the bout of misery she knew was just beginning.

  * * * *

  Hunter gave him a hard look as they walked out of the police station together. “Why are you here? Where’s Mia?”

  “That’s the question of the day.” Jude filled him about about the hotel fire and Mia’s subsequent disappearance. The operative slowed his pace as he listened, eventually coming to a complete halt.

  “Fuck me. This is all my fault. I should have let the cops rot out there until the other officer was on site. Goddamn it!”

  With a nudge of his elbow Jude got the other man moving again. He felt as though he were standing in place already; as if time was rushing by while he was on a treadmill trying to catch up. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that would have made a difference. There’s no way the cop would have kept her in there while the fire alarm was having the building cleared?”

  “Yeah, but the cop would be armed,” Hunter said darkly.

  “Paulo and Blake will be here in a matter of hours. Raiker’s is sending a couple investigators tonight.” Jude lifted the fob and unlocked the door. As they both slid into the vehicle, he continued. “I want you to go Jackson Hole. Someone has to keep an eye on Weale. We can’t afford to overlook the possibility that taking her to his place there would be a quick way to get her out of town.”

  “No.” Hunter correctly interpreted Jude’s narrowed look. “We aren’t splitting up. Not with the way things are going. You can send two of the other ops there when they get in. And in the meantime I can hire a PI to track down Weale and keep tabs on him. But I know you well enough to figure you’re hedging your bets. You don’t expect her to be in Jackson Hole. You think she’s here where Weale’s employer is.” When the seatbelt alarm dinged Hunter belatedly secured his.

  The problem with hiring your friends, Jude thought as he started the car and drove out of the lot, is that they knew you too damn well. “We’ve got a direct line to Weale. I don’t have proof that Davis is involved, other than the email that was sent to Munson yesterday when Weale wasn’t here. But nothing the cops would find convincing.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” There was a grimness in Hunter’s voice to match Jude’s. “Let’s go get some.”

  * * * *

  If she gave in to the stark hopelessness filling her, Mia knew she wouldn’t have a chance. There had to be a way out. The monster said he’d had the chamber made to order. But, she reasoned, shivering as the water lapped under her shoulders, the manufacturer couldn’t have known how it would be used. Surely the weight of a full size adult would put a strain on it, wouldn’t it? Even aquariums, built to withstand the pressure of the water they would hold, might give if something within applied even more force.

  The constant mist collected inside, minuscule drops melding and merging to form crooked pathways tracing down the interior the glass. Her bound wrists were behind her. Useless. Her best chance was to explore with her secured feet. She drew her knees up, alarmed when even that movement had the container swaying. The mist instantly grew heavier. The hose gurgled and sent a violent gush of water from the front opening. A ball of dread lodged in her throat, Mia went very still until the flow slowed again.

  A long breath shuddered out of her. She looked around the room frantically, seeking inspiration. It was a fairly small space, only a few feet longer than the box she was in, but there was a door next to the cupboard. Another room? A closet? Recalling his mention of boot camp earlier, she stared at the space with new eyes.

  When she’d managed to escape she’d run out a stout wooden door. Up stone stairs, through an unlocked door, then suddenly she was outside. She’d traveled down no steps today. This was a garage, with what looked like a false wall concealing this space from the outer area. Her gaze traveled slowly around it. The walls and ceiling were covered with a thick white padding. Though she’d never seen anything like it before, it suddenly occurred to Mia that it was there for soundproofing.

  A frigid shiver crawled up her spine, one vertebra at a time. Deliberately she tried to send herself back to the days when she’d first been captured. Everything inside her shrank from the memory. The drugs. The beatings and repeated rapes. But the place she’d been in had been small, hadn’t it? Concrete walls. She’d been hooded when she arrived at ‘training’ both times and again when she’d left. She’d been alone there.

  The building where she’d been imprisoned with the others had stone walls. Stone floors that were so chilly in the winter he’d allowed them to earn rugs for their cells. Mia’s behavior had never merited one.

  There had to be a reason this room was soundproofed when their prison hadn’t been. Perhaps in their cells there’d been no chance of anyone hearing them, even if they’d dared make a sound. When she’d escaped Mia couldn’t be sure how far she’d traveled before seeing a house because she’d tried to avoid roads. Move only at night. Because their prison had been isolated?

  And this place must hold the risk that someone might hear a woman screaming in agony.

  The realization solidified her resolve. Tamping down the dread at what she was about to do, she lifted her feet from the floor of the Plexiglas container. The water pressure increased slightly. It was lapping above her shoulders now. How long to fill it? She tried not to consider the answer. She raised her feet, one fraction of an inch at a time, consciously aware that the action had the mist turning more to spray. The trickle from the front opening increased to an even flow. By the time her feet were pressed against the lid of the container, every pulse in her body pounded with a frantic intensity.

  Taking a deep breath, she kicked at the lid with all her might, shutting her eyes to the instantaneous spurt of water. It ran down the sides of the vessel and she felt it creeping into her ears and the sensation was almost enough to have her hesitating. Until her gaze landed on the door to the next room. Four’s words blazed across her mind.

  We are twelve with the new girl at boot camp.

  If there was another woman locked inside the next soundproofed space, Mia was going to do whatever she could to get them both out of here.

  She drew her knees back and kicked her feet hard at the top. The water spilled down the sides of the container. Jetted through the front hose. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The lid was heavy. She’d see him struggle to even lift it. Changing tactics, her next kick was aimed at the front panel of the enclosure. With all her might Mia slammed her feet against it over and over again, the answering incoming surge of water keeping time with the force of her kicks.

  * * * *

  “These binoculars suck.”

  Jude could heartily agree with Hunter’s muttered assessment. The equipment at headquarters far out-paced what they could find at the local department store. The narrower vision view consistent with high magnification glasses was worse than expected and they were far more difficult to keep focused. But they allowe
d him to keep an eye on Anthony Davis, so they served their purpose.

  They’d had to approach the house two miles out, creeping as close as they dared to the party that was being hosted in the back yard of the Davis home. As a house it was impressive, a three-story structure featuring multiple porch lines and soaring peaks, acres of plate glass hemmed in by gleaming diagonal wood siding.

  “The sale of old crap must pay a helluva lot better than Bishop Enterprises,” Hunter muttered over the cell.

  Each of them had taken a different angle of the house. Jude had a center view of the back yard, where at least one hundred people were gathered. Hunter was on the side of the crowd, well beyond the detached structure that must be another garage. Given of the size of the holdings he’d found online for the family, he could be fairly certain they were still on Davis property. But they were nearly three hundred yards out from the house, where the manicured grass had been allowed to revert to a natural prairie state. The tall grass would hide them from view for as long as they wanted to watch.

  Jude was just interested in observing as long as Davis was there. His binoculars were trained on him now. Despite the fact that the temperature hovered in the mid-eighties, Davis wore a button down shirt with sleeves rolled up to mid arm and dark slacks.

  A three-piece band had started playing about an hour ago. Some of the group was eating at long covered tables inside a voluminous white tent. Others were clustered in small groups enjoying cocktails and conversation. Two couples were dancing to the music, perilously close to the pool.

  They were no closer to discovering where Mia was being held. Or even what part Davis had played in her disappearance. And that knowledge was a torch to the patience he tried to summon. As long as he had Davis in his sights, Jude could be certain the man wasn’t near Mia. The PI that Hunter had found in Jackson Hole who was currently camped outside Weale’s place was fairly certain the man was alone.

  Which still left whoever had snatched her in the first place. Someone hired by Davis, maybe.

  “Doubtful she’d be in the house.”

  “Agreed.” Jude looked at it again. It was huge. From what he’d discovered mother and son lived there together.

  “And somehow I don’t see him keeping enslaved women in the basement of his business.”

  Jude watched Davis throw his head back and laugh at something said by a gray bearded gentleman before clapping the man on the shoulder. The picture of the genial host.

  “What else do they have for property?”

  “From what I could gather online, among their other holdings they have about ten thousand acres of land, mostly rented to neighbors.”

  Hunter gave a low whistle. “If this doesn’t pan out we should determine what they don’t rent and take a closer look.”

  The muscles clenched in Jude’s belly. Not because it wasn’t a good thought, but because if this surveillance didn’t elicit any further information, then that would mean they’d wasted valuable hours finding Mia. He couldn’t let himself think about what might be happening to her in the meantime, because then this hot wall of panic would turn into an inferno. A man could be crippled in the grip of it. No good to Mia at all.

  Instead he forced himself to think of her mental toughness. Her ability to face trouble head on. He needed to believe she could do that now, at least until they found her. Needed to believe that she had a bit more time.

  His focus sharpened as Davis started moving toward the throng of people. At first he just looked as though he were mingling, but after several minutes it was clear that he was making slow progress toward the corner of the house. “He’s moving your way. You see him?”

  “I’ve got a view of something even more interesting,” the operative said. “There’s a Davison City police car coming up the lane.”

  * * * *

  Escaping from their guests was like trying to extricate himself from the tentacles of an octopus, Anthony thought when he was finally able to slip around the corner of the house. He checked his Rolex. It wouldn’t do to leave Eleven alone too long. Until she realized the very serious consequences of struggling inside the chamber, he couldn’t be sure just how quickly it would fill.

  Her first retraining lesson would begin when it did.

  He walked toward the front of the house until he could be certain he was out of view of the guests then started across the drive toward the garage. And was shocked to see a police car making its way toward him.

  His first thought was the business. They’d had break-ins before, despite a top of the line security system. There were several special items purchased for just this occasion, which might be a temptation to someone in the know. Anthony veered toward the cruiser, anxiety welling.

  “Dale.” He greeted Dale Carter with a fixed smile. “Something wrong downtown?”

  The investigator got out of the car. Shut the door behind him. “Nope. All looked quiet when I drove by.”

  At the man’s answer Anthony felt the pressure in his lungs release a bit. It returned in the next moment at the man’s next words. “We had a missing persons report filed in town today, and your name was mentioned as a person who might know something about it.”

  He didn’t have to feign astonishment. Sully was dead, his body safely locked away in the garage. And no one else knew a thing. In the next moment, indignation bloomed. Who would dare?

  “A child?”

  “No, no.” The man was visibly uncomfortable. “A woman by the name of Mia Deleon. Your name and Eldon’s came up in the report. I’m sorry, Anthony we have to check it out.”

  This bite of anxiety was a new experience. Years ago the investigation into Eleven’s story had gotten nowhere near him. As far as he could tell it had collapsed under a complete lack of leads. As it should. How could mention of him come up now? “I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Here’s a picture.” Dale handed him a newspaper clipping that must have been taken several years ago. “Not recent, but best I could do.”

  Anthony pretended to study it. “Pretty girl.” He manufactured a grin as he handed it back. “Wish I could say I had seen her. Somehow the women I meet don’t look like that, and if Eldon’s having different luck he sure hasn’t bragged about it to me. Where was she last seen?”

  There was no answering humor on Carter’s face. “Your hotel. Everyone was evacuated, but I can’t find anyone who recalled seeing her. I’m trying to track down Bruce Sullivan, one of the security team. I was told he cleared the floor her room was on. No one has seen him for several hours.”

  And here was his opening. Folding his arms over his chest, Anthony lowered his voice confidentially. “I don’t know what you may have heard from the fire chief, but he reported to me directly. There was no fire at all. Smoke grenade canisters were found on every floor. I think they’re chalking it up to a very expensive prank.”

  “I’d call it something more serious than that, if the false alarm was instigated to cover up a kidnapping. If you see either the woman or Bruce Sullivan, I’d appreciate a call.” Dale got in the car. Slowly backed it down the crowded drive.

  Anthony watched it go, and then walked swiftly toward the garage again, a plan already forming. Sully would make a perfect patsy. Dale already suspected the man might have been the last to see Eleven. When it became clear that both Sully and the woman were gone, they’d be chasing after the guard, diverting attention from Anthony.

  In death Sullivan might prove to be more useful than he’d been alive.

  15

  The glass had held despite the assault Mia had waged on it. The water had risen fast. So fast. It parted and closed around her, eddying around her chin. Her hair spread in the water, encircling her head like a feathery wreath. She was still now, crouched on her knees with her face pressed as close to the lid as she could manage. She wondered if she could count how many more pulses of liquid would be pumped in before even the small space devoid of it would be gone.

  There had been many time
s in her captivity that she’d thought she would die. Especially in those first brutal weeks. Even more times later when she’d longed for death. But here, now, she could feel the imminence of her demise hovering with an almost physical tangibility.

  Water lapped into her nose and she shook her head, causing the container to rock. She closed her eyes as she heard the hose feed the liquid in faster and tried to wipe her mind of everything else. But regret was one thing that refused to be dislodged.

  She’d failed, miserably. She wouldn’t be part of rescuing the women she’d left behind. Nor could she assist the one in the next room escape. And she would no longer need to anguish over a possible future with Jude. She had no future now. In the end the decision had been made for her.

  Jude. His name shrieked across her mind, a silent howl of desolation. For a woman who had taught herself to expect so little, he represented the ultimate overreach. It’d been paralyzing to have everything she thought she knew about herself be so easily swept aside. Crippling for a woman who’d never wanted to discover that she could long for something until it was a physical ache. He’d made her want, even when she knew how dangerous yearning was. He’d almost made her believe that there could be something more.

  But she’d been right all along. Having something to lose was the worst kind of pain.

  There was a slight sound. The quick stride of footsteps. Then a shadow fell over her. “Willful.” That hated voice had her skin chilling in the warm water. The next moment there was a gurgle and the drain in the corner of the container opened, greedily gulping the contents of the vessel. “See how dangerous your stubbornness can be? Obedience can save your life, Eleven. I’m going to make sure that’s a lesson you never forget.”

  The level of the liquid lowered to below her chin. Her muscles slackened in involuntary relief, the bunched tension easing as her body relaxed. She hauled in a deep gulp of air. Then the drain snapped closed again. “This is what disobedience feels like.” He went to the foot of the container, grasped it in both hands and rocked it back and forth violently.