Page 36

Chapter 35

B y all appearances, the room resembles a finished basement with a theater system on one side. Decorative stones, varying in size and shape, adorn the adjacent wall. It’s quite beautiful, if I do say so myself.

The keypad on the inside of the basement door gives the illusion that this space could serve as a panic room. It can, but that’s not what I use it for.

I type in the code, and a door behind the stone wall slides open to reveal a small, eight-by-eight-foot space.

The room is soundproof, and on the back wall, shackles and chains are fastened to a wooden rack. On the opposite wall, a collection of torture devices is neatly displayed. I turn around and watch Eli’s face as he takes in the area—and my toys. If I’m not mistaken, his eyes reveal a hint of admiration, which is better than the horror I expected to see.

After I secure Dalton with shackles and chains, I cut away the zip ties and strip him down to his boxer briefs. Stripping someone of their clothing messes with their psyche. He’s still unconscious, his head lolling forward on his shoulders.

As much as I want to rip his head off right now, I need to bide my time. Eli has questions. He needs answers. In the past, with the exception of Brady, I’ve always felt a sense of detachment from my victims. But this is personal. My emotions are heightened in a way I haven’t felt before. This monster attacked my best friend, and he will suffer in ways he can’t possibly imagine.

Eli is pacing, deep in thought, and his body rigid with tension. “I need to know everything that happened to my sister.”

I give a hard nod in Dalton’s direction. “Let’s find out what he’s hiding.”

He abruptly walks over and punches Dalton in the jaw. “Wake up, motherfucker.”

“What the fuck?” Groggy eyes snap open, and Dalton spits onto the floor as he wakes. He struggles against the shackles, unable to break free. “Where am I?”

“Your own personal hell,” I say coldly.

“Are y’all crazy? You can’t keep me here like this.”

“Can’t we? What are you going to do? Call the police?” Eli taunts, holding up his phone. “There’s a BOLO out, and I know they’d love to know where you are. Here, let me dial the number for you. I’ll put you on speaker.” He types in the number.

“Wait. Stop. What do you want?” Fear flickers across Dalton’s face.

“Answers.” Eli smirks, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “I want to know what happened to my sister.”

Dalton pales. “W-what? Why would I know anything about her? ”

Walking over to a shelf on the wall, I reach for a revolver. I load a single bullet, making a show of spinning the cylinder. His eyes widen as I press the barrel to his temple.

“Let’s try this again. He asked you a question. Answer it.”

Dalton swallows, looking at Eli with pleading eyes. “I don’t know what happened to her.”

Click.

“Okay, okay.” He flinches, drawing in a ragged breath. “It was a job. We didn’t know it was your sister.”

Eli’s brows are drawn together in a scowl. “Who’s ‘we’?”

I press the gun harder into the side of his head. “W-Wilson. Wilson Randall.”

“So, what? You two grabbed her, raped, and murdered her?” Eli walks over and places two hands on the chair’s arms, caging Dalton in while he shouts in his face. “Was it just for kicks? A dare?”

“Wait, what?” Dalton says, a puzzled expression on his face. “No! We didn’t kill her.” Click.

Eli glares at me, and I innocently shrug, raising my eyebrows as if to say, 'Oops, sorry.'

“Stop! Listen. We were on an assignment. Each year, we take a couple of girls. All we do is take them. We never killed anybody,” Dalton insists vehemently.

This catches my attention. “What do you mean ‘take them’? Where do you take them?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Click.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. There are only three chambers left, one with a bullet.” I tilt my head forward, meeting Dalton’s gaze. “I suggest you spill everything now, or I’ll blast your brains across the wall. That would be awfully messy.”

Resigned, he sighs. “It all started in high school. Wilson and I were running dope when we got a call. We met up with a guy for what was supposed to be a drug run. He had evidence on us. He said he’d turn everything over to the feds if we didn’t do exactly what he wanted.”

“And what exactly did he ask you to do?” My patience is wearing thin. This fucker needs to spit it out already.

“Once a year, we take two girls. They have to match specific qualifications: between thirteen and fifteen years old, petite, brown hair, and blue eyes. Wilson and I each scout out a girl, then we round them up and deliver them.”

Anger erupts within me. “Round them up? They aren’t fucking cattle.”

Click.

Dalton flinches violently, his eyes widen with fear. “We deliver them to the warehouse you found me at. That’s all we do. I swear. We leave the van there and go. Neither of us knew it was your sister. Our target was supposed to be another girl and some friend of hers. We choose girls who won’t be missed.”

“My uncle’s warehouse.” Eli’s face drains of color. “You’re trafficking children at my uncle’s warehouse.”

Dalton looks ashamed for the first time. “After that first run, we went home to find money deposited into our bank accounts. The following year, he contacted us again. We said we’d work for him if he destroyed the evidence of what we’d done.”

“Do you have any proof to back this up? Who the fuck do you work for?” I grind out .

“I can’t tell you that. I won’t. Just fucking kill me.”

“Okay.” Shrugging, I pull the trigger. Twice.

“Fucking hell, Tessa!” Eli exclaims, an exasperated look on his face.

“What?”

Dalton lies unconscious before us, his dark hair hiding his face, his body still. The only sound is the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“I didn’t kill him. I just wanted to scare him a little.”

And it worked. I gesture toward him, noting the urine running down his legs. Disgusting. What a pathetic pussy. He can use his fists on women and kidnap children without a second thought, but he can’t handle shit when it’s dished back at him.

I meet Eli’s gaze. “You didn’t really think I left a bullet in the revolver, did you?”

“Yes.” Annoyance flashes across Eli’s face. “Yes, I did.”

“He’d be too lucky to get off that easy.”

When Eli continues to scowl at me, I wrap my arms around his waist. His body loosens, and he returns the embrace, relaxing into me.

“None of this makes sense.” Eli rests his head on top of mine. “Why was my sister murdered when none of the other girls were found dead?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to find out what happened to her. I promise you.” And I mean every word. I won’t stop until we have all the answers.

A few minutes later, Dalton stirs again with a groan .

“Please, let me go. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll disappear. Whatever you want,” he pleads.

“What we want is to know who is behind all of this,” Eli grits out. “And why my sister was murdered.”

“I r-really don’t know why she was killed, Eli. I swear. The girls are usually just gone. Never heard from again.”

Feigning boredom, I shrug. “Well, if that’s all you’ve got, I don’t see what use you are anymore.”

I pick a dagger from the wall and aim it at him like a dartboard. Dalton screams as the dagger impales his right leg. “My safe. Look in my safe! You’ll find financial records from the account that deposits our payments. I’m sure you’ll find something there.”

“Where is it?” Eli growls.

“My shed behind the house. The safe is behind the Matthew Wong painting.” He rattles off the code. “Please, let me go.”

“I’m not finished with you just yet.” My voice is hard as steel as I dig my fingers into his shoulder. “Do you think I’d simply let you walk away after you attacked Allie? After you killed your child? Nah. I think we’ll keep you a little longer.”

“Who are you? Who are you really?” Dalton eyes me, fear and confusion swirling in his gaze, as though he’s seeing me for the first time

“I’m the one you should fear the most.”

“Eli?” Dalton whines, looking at Eli, hoping for some sign that he has a chance to escape his destiny.

Eli lands another punch to his face. “The first one was for Allie. That one was for my sister.”