by Mary Stone
Cold Threat
Ellie Kline Series: Book Three
Mary Stone
Donna Berdel
Copyright © 2020 by Mary Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Mary Stone
To my husband.
Thank you for taking care of our home and its many inhabitants while I follow this silly dream of mine.
Donna Berdel
First, a big thank you to Mary Stone for taking a chance on me by collaborating on this story. I’m honored and indebted!And, of course, to my husband. Thank you for being you. You’re my rock.
Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Ellie Kline Series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Description
Monsters hide in the dark until it’s time to feed.
Puppets. Toys. That’s all his captives are to him. He’s the master, the one in complete control, and he’s planning on recreating the night he kidnapped Ellie when she was fifteen.
Ellie Kline’s life has never been the same since that night thirteen years ago. Now a detective in the Cold Case Division of Charleston Police Department, she’s compiled a mountain of evidence against a dirty detective, revealing betrayal within the department. Determined to reveal the truth, Ellie enlists the help of her best friend, CPD file clerk Jillian Reed, to help her prove she’s not just paranoid.
But as the anniversary of the day she escaped a serial killer nears, the murderous villain is coming to finish what he started. She beat him once before, and when he takes someone close to her, she has to hope she can outplay him again.
This time, she’s not a child. And the master is only a man.
An enthralling game of puppet and prey, Cold Threat is the third book of the Ellie Kline Series that will make you want to check in the shadows for monsters.
1
“No!”
His girlfriend’s terrified voice woke Ben Brooks from a dreamless sleep.
Pain shot through his back muscles, and he cursed the hardness of his mattress.
Flinching his fingers, which scraped along dusty dirt, he didn’t need to inhale the rank smell to remember.
He wasn’t on his mattress at home. He wasn’t on a mattress anywhere. Only the thin shirt he was wearing protected him from the cold dirt floor digging into his back.
Stretching, he frowned as something even colder and harder pressed against his shoulder. He forced heavy eyelids open, wincing at the aches in his body, the dryness in his mouth, to discover what was causing the additional discomfort.
A chain-link fence separated him from his girlfriend.
Her hand was delicate, just thin enough to reach through the gap. Her slender fingers clutched the front of his shirt in sleep, though she’d lost the fight with exhaustion hours ago.
The stench of terror and human waste permeated, a scent he couldn’t rid his nose of, but he focused on her, the woman he wanted to marry, have kids with, sit in the rocking chairs on the front porch with. Her sweet face was slack with sleep, framed with dark hair that usually shone but was now dull. Her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks from the pale glow of the security light that found its way between the boards nailed to the windows.
She whimpered, and he pressed his fingers through the wires, stroking her forehead, shushing and speaking in quiet tones to soothe her. Her lips softened into a slight smile, her nose crinkling at the splash of freckles across the bridge as she sighed.
Her smile gave him hope against the cold that seeped through his filthy clothes and into his bones. Hope was all he had left.
He was freezing in short sleeves, but it was worth it to see her draped in his jacket, with one sleeve tucked under her cheek to keep her face off the packed earth serving as a floor. This was the only comfort he could offer her.
Behind him, several of the other captives moaned or coughed as they huddled in little groups for warmth. The men were in one cage, the women in another. Even in the near darkness, he could make out the dozens of cages that were capable of holding about six captives each. The staggering possibilities filled him with dread.
Some still had the cement that had once floored all the cages, and those had a drain in the center. From what little he could see, he assumed the place had once been a dog pound. But he was sure there hadn’t been a dog within these walls for some time, and he found himself wondering just how many people had passed through this horrible place.
And were they still alive?
He didn’t know when he dozed off, but he awakened with a start when his girlfriend’s clenched fist pulled away so fast that she ripped a few hairs from his chest.
“No!” she screamed, her voice muffled by the heavy sack placed over her head by a shadowy figure, who tied it in place.
He jumped to his feet, ready to fight through the chain-link, but a blow to his back stunned him long enough for his hands to be wrapped in rope and yanked together viciously. A sack was pulled over his head before he could resist.
“Va—!” Calling out earned him another blow that made stars appear in the darkness. He clenched his teeth rather than making a sound, unwilling to give his captors the satisfaction of knowing they were causing him pain.
He was shoved forward and barely stayed on his feet, but he took solace in the footsteps he could hear in front and behind him. From the best he could tell, there were at least ten people, if not more. That meant the captives were all being led out of the cages.
But why?
He dragged his feet as much as he could, hoping to hold up their progress. He needed to think. He needed to get out of there, but he wasn’t leaving without the love of his life.
A few minutes later, the burlap sack scratched across his face as it was suddenly ripped from his head. Blinding light made his eyes water. Blinking back the tears, the blurry images around him grew sharper each time he opened his eyes. Until the dozen other captives lined up near him came into focus, all in the same state of shock as him.
Bewildered.
Terrified.
First in line, he was led up a few steps and onto a small stage. Dread gripped his stomach with icy fingers.
He looked back at the others. Everyone he’d been held captive with for the past day and a half were also in the warehouse, each one showing signs of fighting back at one point or another. But none of the marks were enough to cause a swollen eye or a split lip, a realization that made his stomach twist into knots.
They want us to look good, he thought with sickening certainty. The question of why still remained, but he didn’t have time to worry on it before he was sh
oved into the center of the room.
An even brighter light shone in his face, blinding him.
He jumped when an excited voice started talking at a fast clip. “Here we have the perfect specimen of a man. The picture of youth. In his early twenties. Fit. Let’s see those abs.”
A hand reached out and pulled up his shirt.
He yanked away, squinting into the glare. His skin crawled, and he felt as if millions of eyes were raking over his body. He shuddered, stepping back and stumbling until rough hands on his shoulders shoved him back into the brightly lit circle.
“Look into the camera.”
He blinked against the light that stung his eyes, shocked to see that the space in front of him was empty except for a camera on a tripod and a person who held a flashlight in one hand and a microphone in the other. Ben tried to focus on the man, tried to see his face, but the mix of shadows and bright lights disrupted his vision.
“Do I hear fifteen?” the man asked in an auctioneer’s tempo. “Fifteen! Do I hear sixteen for this fine specimen?”
They were bidding on something, he realized.
Large hands clamped down on his shoulders and spun him in a circle.
His stomach dropped. They weren’t just bidding on something; they were bidding on him.
“He’s certified in good health with strong legs and shoulders. Good teeth, clear skin. I hear sixteen and…” The auctioneer gasped. “Thirty! We have a bid for thirty. Do I hear thirty-one?”
Frantic, Ben glanced through the group of people behind him, locking eyes with his girlfriend just as the man shouted, “And sold! For thirty thousand dollars to user ‘huntnbag.’”
“No!” his sweetheart shouted, rushing toward him, her hands bound in front of her.
He took a step in her direction but was yanked backward. Hard fingers dug painfully into the flesh of his upper arm, but he remained focused on her.
She mouthed, “I love you.” Her blue eyes were sad, defeated, and stood out starkly against her pale skin, her dark hair scraggly around her face.
He repeated the words back to her as he tried to rip free from the guard’s grasp.
Finally ripping his arm from the man’s grip, he ran straight toward his girlfriend. A sizzle filled the air just as sharp barbs sank into his skin. His body froze in place as pain filled every cell before he dropped to the ground.
Still, he held her gaze until darkness consumed him.
He had to. He was sure his true love would be the last sight he ever saw.
His own moaning woke Ben up before he could drag his eyes open.
Even without a clock, he could tell by the light on his eyelids that it was morning. Keeping his eyes closed, he remained still and tried to keep his breathing even, intently listening to the room around him for any hint of what he would find. But there was only the sweet song of the birds outside and a gentle breeze coming through an open window.
Opening one eye, he was surprised to see the cloud of white fluffy bedding wrapped around him. When he moved, the mattress beneath him was soft as a cloud. Had he died and gone to heaven? But where was his girlfriend?
On closer inspection, the rest of the room was just as sterile. White and tan, without a single personal photo. Like a room straight out of a magazine, the brown accents gave it a masculine feel.
He sat up quietly, eyeing the open door that led to a narrow hallway.
His body protested when he moved at first, then his joints began to listen to his commands, and the urgent need for a bathroom overrode everything else. Dragging himself out of the large, comfortable bed, he went to the doorway near the window where a bird sat perched on a limb, chirping loudly. When he stepped through the doorway, he was overwhelmingly thankful that it was an actual bathroom. The warehouse they’d been held in had possessed nothing but a bucket in the middle of the cage for—
His eyes widened as everything came flooding back all at once.
His girlfriend.
The cages.
The auction.
A mysterious bidder on the other side of the camera.
Had it all been a dream? And where was he?
“Feelin’ any better?” a male voice with a southern drawl inquired from behind him.
He froze, scanning the tiny bathroom for something to use as a weapon.
“Yer safe for now.” A man more than a decade older than him stepped into the bedroom from the hallway, smiling warmly. “I’m sorry they had to stun-gun you. If I’d had my say, it wouldna happened.”
“Where’s my girlfriend?”
Farmer Brown shook his head. “Not sure. You hungry? I made pancakes.”
Ben eyed the stranger, who was on the short side and slender, though he was obviously well-muscled beneath his clothes. He wondered if he had purchased him for a sex slave, but he pushed the thought aside. The older man was slight enough that he could fend off any unwelcome advances with ease, so he was no real threat. Knowing that, he shifted his entire focus to his girlfriend and her whereabouts. She was in danger, and he needed to convince this man to let him find her.
“How long was I out?” Ben asked the older man instead of answering the question.
“All night. They sedated you yesterday, brought you here in a hell of a state. I hope you don’t mind I cleaned you up some. You…soiled yourself when they shocked you, didn’t think it kind to leave you in filth. I’m sure the conditions they kept you in were abhorrent, but I have no say in all that.”
He noticed the new clothing for the first time, blinking at the stiff, pristine running shoes. He frowned. Wasn’t it odd that they’d been put on his feet as he’d slept? The black track suit fit well and sported the requisite white stripes down the legs, and the fitted black tee was made of the sweat-wicking fabric he knew cost quite a bit. He shuffled at a vague sense of discomfort, knowing he’d been naked in front of this stranger while unconscious, but that was minor compared to his other worries.
“I think they gave you too much sedative.” The shorter man’s smile was soft, reassuring, his hazel eyes sweeping over him. “I’m sure this is all very confusin’, but let me set your mind to ease, as long as you’re in this house, you’re safe.”
“I need to find my girlfriend.”
“You can’t do nothin’ if you don’t get a good meal in your belly.” Farmer Brown grinned and held out a hand. “I can help you down the stairs, ifin you like.”
Ben shook his head. “I can walk.”
“Glad ta hear it. Now, do you want eggs and bacon too? I made both, and biscuits and gravy from scratch.” The man ducked his head, suddenly appearing to be bashful. “I may have gone a bit overboard, but it’s yer only meal since you’ve been here, and I wanted it to be fillin’.”
Ben nodded. “Thank you for that.” Running his hands through his hair, he sighed and shook away the cobwebs. “I still feel so foggy. I do appreciate your kindness. I’m just so worried about her.”
“Course you are. Let’s fuel our bodies now so this day is a little easier. You’ll need your strength.”
He nodded again, and after taking care of business in the bathroom, followed his odd host down the stairs in a haze.
This is like a bad dream.
Beautiful stained boards lined the walls of the house, the wood grain shining. It was obviously a cabin-style home, a full two stories with at least two bedrooms. Every detail was gorgeous, right down to the sanded and stained knots in the wood that made up the handrailing.
“Orange or apple juice?”
“Orange.” Ben’s stomach growled. “Do you know what could’ve happened to her?”
“I don’t, but it’s really early, so there’s nothin’ to be done right now.”
Why would the time matter? Police stations were open twenty-four-seven.
“What time is it?”
“Just after five in the mornin’.”
“Oh.” Ben stopped, distracted by the view of thick trees through the window, grateful for the full moon giving
him a little light. “Is that a forest at the edge of your yard? Where are we?”
“Bartlett Woods, just outside Charleston proper.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” Some of the tension melted away. This man clearly didn’t intend to hold Ben captive if he was allowed to roam the house untied, and he’d even told him where they were.
I lucked out. He hoped his girlfriend had been so lucky. I’ll convince him to buy her too, he amended, already thinking of ways to convince this man to invest in a second person. How many had this stranger already rescued from the clutches of the monsters who had kidnapped them?
“Most haven’t heard of this place. The forest isn’t large; just several hundred acres of an old farm left to grow over when the last of the Charleston Bartletts passed away. It’s mostly wild now, with a few houses here and there.”
“What am I doing here?” Ben took the plate the man handed to him, and realizing how ravenous he was, picked up a pancake with his bare hand and took a bite. “These are delicious, thank you.”
“Yer here to recover from captivity before I set you free.” He winked, flashing a smile, his hazel eyes catching the light and seeming to turn a strange shade of yellow.
He swallowed the barely chewed pancake in his mouth, coughing before it went down the right way. “That’s it? You bought me to turn me loose?”
“Think of it as an act of mercy.”
After all he’d been through, the kindness of this man made him forget even his hunger. “I don’t know what to say.”