by Sean Black
The Devil’s Bounty (UK/Commonwealth)
The Innocent
Budapest/48 (Short)
The Edge of Alone
Second Chance
The Byron Tibor Series
Post
Blood Country
Winter’s Rage
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Also by Sean Black
The Ryan Lock Series
Lockdown
Deadlock
Lock & Load (Short)
Gridlock
The Devil’s Bounty
Budapest/48 (Short)
For US and Canadian Readers:
3 Action-Packed Ryan Lock Thrillers: Lockdown; Deadlock; Gridlock (Ryan Lock Series Boxset Book 1)
The Byron Tibor Series
Post
Blood Country
* * *
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For Lee and Patsy
First published in 2016.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Copyright 2016 by Sean Black
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The moral right of the author had been asserted.
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All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Created with Vellum
About The Book
An isolated school for troubled teens. A series of mysterious deaths. A father frantically trying to rescue his daughter before it's too late.
But when the law won't listen, who can he turn to?
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‘Sean Black writes with the pace of Lee Child, and the heart of Harlan Coben.’ Joseph Finder, New York Times Bestseller (Paranoia, Buried Secrets)
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‘This is a writer, and a hero, to watch.’ Daily Mail
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‘Ace. There are deservedly strong Lee Child comparisons as the author is also a Brit, his novels US-based, his character appealing, and his publisher the same.’ Sarah Broadhurst, The Bookseller
* * *
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Part I
1
When people asked Brice Walker what he did for a living, he told them he was a deliveryman. It saved a long, potentially awkward conversation. And it wasn’t a lie. Well, not exactly. As an answer it had the added bonus of making his occupation sound boring. Which closed down having to deal with any more questions.
In reality, Brice’s profession was far from boring. Most people had no idea it even existed. Or that it was, despite what they might have believed, completely legal.
Brice, with his business partner, Mike, both of them former bail bondsmen, did collect packages, transport them across the country, and drop them off at a pre-designated location. So, calling himself a deliveryman wasn’t that far removed from the truth.
The aspect of the job that was hard to explain to people was that he and Mike collected, transported, and delivered human beings from one location to another. More specifically, children and teenagers, the youngest being eleven and the oldest being seventeen, boys, girls, and, increasingly, young people who described themselves as transgender. In fact, the fastest growth area for their business in the last twelve months had been transgender young people.
Personally, Brice didn’t see what the big deal was if a kid was gay or transgender. But he wasn’t the one paying top dollar to move them around, so he tended to keep his own views on the subject to himself. After all, he and Mike were only deliverymen, and they had just arrived at their pick-up for the day.
Sitting in the passenger seat next to him, Mike jabbed a finger at the corner of the map he was holding. “This is it,” he said to Brice. “Laurel Avenue.”
Brice slowed the truck, and spun the wheel. “What’s the number?”
Mike peered down at the piece of paper containing the collection instructions. “Four two one eight. Should be two blocks down. The cross street is Third.”
“You forget your reading glasses again?”
Mike scowled. “I don’t need ’em.”
“Sure you don’t,” Brice told him.
Mike’s eyesight was a running joke between them. Brice knew he couldn’t read for shit without glasses, and Mike was too damn vain to use them. It was like he was trying to deny he was getting older by ignoring the changes that came with it. Other than that, they got on pretty good. Which was just as well, because they spent a lot of time in each other’s company.
A few moments later, Brice pulled the truck into a space opposite the address. It had been Mike’s idea to swap out the car they’d been using for an old UPS delivery truck that he’d spotted in an online auction. He might have shitty eyesight and not want to admit it, but making collections in an actual delivery truck had been a stroke of genius. It blended in. And once they had their cargo safely stowed in back, there was way less chance of anyone seeing it. The soundproofing was better too. They’d had to make some adjustments to the rear cargo area to make it comfortable for longer journeys, but overall it made the job a lot easier.
Brice switched off the engine and killed the headlights. “What time you got?”
Mike dug his cell phone from his front pants pocket and checked the display. “Zero three fifty-three.”
“Good. That means we can be on the road well before sunrise.”
“If she doesn’t give us a problem,” said Mike.
Brice shrugged his shoulders. “What kind of problem is a fourteen-year-old girl going to give us?”
“You forgot about that kid in El Segundo?”
The kid Mike was talking about had pulled her boyfriend’s gun from under the bed when they’d walked into her room. Thankfully the safety had been on or they might not have been here right now.
“That was a one-off,” said Brice. “This kid doesn’t seem like the type who’ll give us too many problems.”
Mike eyeballed him. “If she wasn’t a problem, we wouldn’t be here.”
“You know what I mean,” said Brice, reaching back behind his seat and pulling out a bag. He unzipped it and quickly checked they had everything they might need if she was a problem.
Mike started to run through the equipment list. Brice found the first item in the bag and called it out. Mike put a line through it. El Segundo was also the reason they’d tightened up their procedures, including running through the checklist before every collection.
“Okay,” said Mike. “Let’s see here,” he said, squinting at the list. “Pepper spray? Two canisters.”
Brice dug around the bottom of the bag. He found the spray, took one for himself and handed off the other to Mike. Mike struck a line through it on the list and moved on.
“Handcuffs. Two pairs.”
* * *
With jacket collars turned up, and baseball caps pulled low over their eyes, the two men walked quickly toward the front door. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. They both knew the drill. Plus, they wanted to make as little noise as possible on entry.
>
Coming out might be a different matter. Sometimes they got a screamer or someone else in the house flipped out: a brother, a sister, another family member, the dog.
If they didn’t shut up when Brice asked them to, that was when the pepper spray came out. Usually the threat was enough to quieten them down. They only used it when they absolutely had to. They preferred speed and surprise, hence the early hour.
Brice turned the handle of the front door. It was unlocked. As arranged.
He stepped into the hallway, Mike a few steps behind him. Mike closed the door behind them and they started up the stairs toward the target’s bedroom. It was the second door on the left-hand side. Ideally, one of them would be posted outside the house, usually beneath the target’s bedroom window to prevent them escaping. Brice could have put Mike there, but ever since the gun incident they had adopted a two-man protocol.
For one thing it was safer. Two pairs of eyes. Two pairs of hands. Two pairs of cuffs. These were all better. But there were a couple of other reasons. A child or teenager was less likely to think they had a chance against two fully grown men. And, crucially, Brice having Mike there meant they could counter any allegations that might be made after the fact. It was why two-person teams were deployed in this line of work. It provided deniability against any suggestion of impropriety.
They climbed the stairs, making sure to minimize any noise. The last thing they wanted was the target waking up before they got into the room.
They reached the landing and walked toward the bedroom door. It was closed. There was a sign on it that read: “Adults: Keep Out.”
Too bad it wasn’t going to work, thought Brice. At least half the time there was either a sign like it on the door, or the door was locked from the inside.
He glanced at Mike. Mike nodded. Brice slowly turned the door handle as Mike’s hand slipped down to his pepper spray. They started as a black cat streaked past them, heading for the stairs.
The two men walked into the bedroom. It took a second for Brice’s eyes to adjust to the gloom. Looking around, he felt like he had seen this room a thousand times before. Cluttered. Clothes strewn all over the floor, even though there was a hamper for dirty laundry by the window. Posters featuring moody, long-haired indie bands or green cannabis leaves were tacked to the walls. The smell of incense hung in the air, just below the general stink of teenage funk.
In the far corner, a desk was covered with books, makeup and colored pens. Next to it was a dresser, every drawer at least partially open with clothes spilling out over the edges.
Brice navigated through the minefield of crap until he reached the bed. Their target lay in the middle, the comforter over her head. Mike had already moved to the other side of the bed, ready for Brice’s signal.
They had this part perfectly choreographed. Mike pulled a single leather glove from his jacket pocket and slipped it on. Occasionally they got a biter, almost always a girl, and the glove prevented too much damage. If there was a struggle, Brice would take the legs. Control someone’s upper body, then pin down their legs, and there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot they could do about it. When they were assured of cooperation they could relax their grip. If the target decided to go back on their word, well, that was what the pepper spray and handcuffs were for.
2
Ruth Price couldn’t breathe. She was stuck inside a water-filled quarry. She couldn’t remember how she’d got there, or how long she’d been trapped, but trapped she was.
She scrambled frantically to the side, but every time she tried to get a handhold to pull herself out, she lost her grip, fell back in, and her head went back under the water. She tried to stay calm, to conserve her energy, but it was no use. She rose to the surface one more time. She opened her mouth to take a breath and tasted something solid pressing against her tongue.
She could hear voices. Men’s voices. Low and soothing. But she couldn’t see anyone. There was only the water all around her and the steep, jagged quarry walls.
Finally, her eyes snapped open. The quarry disappeared. So did the water.
Oh, thank God.
A dream. A nightmare. She was in her bedroom at home.
But the thing pressing against her mouth was still there. A man’s face was staring down at her.
Her heart pounded. Fear jolted its way up her spine. Her body spasmed with terror.
She tried to get up. She kicked out her legs. They wouldn’t move. They were pinned down by a heavy weight.
The man’s eyes stared down at her. “Ruth,” he said. Low. Soothing. It was the voice she’d heard a moment before when she had been on the edge of waking.
How did he know her name?
Was this a nightmare within a nightmare?
It had to be.
That was the only explanation.
A cruel trick of her own mind.
Wake from one horror to another.
Only this seemed real.
“Ruth,” the man said again. “My name is Michael. My partner here is Brice.”
Ruth followed the man’s gaze down the bed, slowly realizing why she wasn’t able to move her legs. They were pinned down.
Sleep fell away. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. This was the here and now. Her bedroom at home. The middle of the night. With two men holding her down, and about to do what?
“We’re sorry for waking you like this but, believe me, it’s the safest way for everyone.”
She didn’t understand. They were sorry for breaking into her and her mom’s house? Sorry for sneaking into her bedroom in the dead of night and waking her up with their hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream?
What was safe about any of this?
“Ruth, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth so you can breathe a little easier. I just didn’t want you hollering the place down. Okay?”
Ruth swallowed hard. The whole thing still seemed unreal. But it was real. Very real.
She nodded. Or moved her head up and down as much as the man’s grip allowed her to.
“Good. That’s good,” he said. “We don’t want to hurt you. Or for you to hurt us. Do you understand that?”
She moved her head again. She felt his grip relax a little.
“Okay, Ruth, I’m going to take my hand away now. And Brice here is going to let you get up. If you scream, or attempt to resist in any way, it’ll go very badly for you. We’ll have to restrain you, which we don’t want to do. Unless you don’t give us a choice.”
He unclamped his hand from over her mouth. She struggled to breathe. Her heart was still thumping out of her chest. Thumping so hard that she could actually hear it.
Her breathing came fast and shallow. She felt like she was about to have an asthma attack. She hadn’t had one of those in over a year. She didn’t even know where her inhaler was. The thought that she couldn’t find it made her panic even more.
The man’s hand fell onto her bare shoulder where her T-shirt had fallen down. The sensation of him touching her there creeped her out. “Take it easy, okay? We’re here to help you. Not to hurt you.”
Not here to hurt her? Was this guy for real? They’d almost scared her to death. And they were touching her.
She could think of a thousand things to say to that. But she knew better. Not when she was still lying down, half naked, with them standing over her.
She’d play along. When she could, when she actually had some air in her lungs, she’d scream and make a break for it.
Ruth closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. It was hard.
“That’s better,” Mike said.
“Okay,” Ruth finally managed to say. “I understand.”
“That’s good,” said Mike. “Now, we want you to get up, and throw some clothes on over what you already have on. Then we’re going to walk you outside.”
What the hell? Walk her outside?
I’m being kidnapped.
These two guys have broken in and they’re going to kidnap me.
“No can do. From now until we deliver you to Broken Ridge you can’t leave our sight. Those are the rules.”
“What the hell is Broken Ridge?” she asked.
“It’ll all be explained to you on the way there.”
Ruth picked up a sweatshirt from the floor and pulled it on over her head. “You won’t get away with this,” she said.
She saw them trade a smile, like they were in on a secret she didn’t know about. “Kidnapping’s a federal crime.”
She wasn’t sure if it was or not, but she was sure that it was. She had heard something on a TV show once about transporting a minor over state lines being a federal crime.
“Ruth, no one’s kidnapping anyone. We’re simply here to make sure you’re safely escorted to Broken Ridge.”
Again with Broken Ridge. They said it like she should know what they were talking about.
This whole thing was crazy. Two men had burst into her bedroom in the middle of the night, told her they were taking her somewhere she’d never heard of, and acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. They could threaten her all they wanted, but there was no way she’d just go along with them because they said so.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, and folded her arms. “I don’t know who you are, or how you got in here, but I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The man who had held down her legs, the one the other had called Brice, stepped in front of her. “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, you might be able to pull this crap with your mom, but it won’t wash with us. Now, you can walk out of here with us or we can carry you out. Makes no difference to me. Or to Mike.”