Page 11 of Don't Speak
CHAPTER TEN
Lock picking is an art form. Ensuring you can get it done efficiently and in a timely manner without anyone seeing you is no easy feat.
I managed to get into the apartment in under fifteen seconds, a new record for me.
So here I am, standing in James Bradford’s apartment, also known as the redhead from the bar.
Once we closed down the bar, there was only one remaining tab left open.
Considering I threw him out before he could close out, that left his tab as the only one remaining.
From there, it wasn’t hard to gather where he lived. It is a small town, after all.
I waited outside for a bit before entering. It wasn’t until James posted to his social media that he was out at a friend’s house party after being kicked from the bar that I decided I had enough time to enter. He would come home eventually, and when he did, he’d be mine.
I walk around, giving the place a good once-over.
The sink is full of dirty dishes, clothes are strewn all over the place, and it reeks of body odor and old food.
It’s just as I imagined it would be, dirty and disgusting.
I don’t know how this guy expects to bring women here.
One look at this place, and they would run for the hills.
Snooping through his bedroom, I check out his nightstand.
There’s nothing of significance. Condoms, empty beer cans, some sleeping pills, and old food wrappers occupy the space.
Closing the drawer, I move to his dresser.
Again, underwhelming. Nothing but tighty-whities with skid marks and socks.
Closing this drawer, I move out to the living room’s entertainment center.
Opening the cabinets, I notice a large collection of what appear to be homemade DVDs.
Ignoring the pit in my stomach, I go ahead and grab one, pulling it out of the case and inserting it into the DVD player connected to the TV and pressing play.
Suddenly, I’m staring at a petite blonde girl, black streaks running down her face as though she’s been crying.
She’s gagged and bound, strapped by each of her limbs to the corners of the bed.
I don’t recognize the bed in the video, but I can tell that it’s not James’.
She’s screaming behind the gag while three men look at her with the most sadistic expressions on their faces.
Immediately, I recognize the three men, two of whom I’ve come to know as Eric and James.
I make a mental note to add this third motherfucker to the list soon.
As the disc plays, each of the men is shown having their way with her, and each of them threatens physical violence if she were to tell anyone what happened.
My blood boils, and it’s taking everything in me not to smash this TV.
I pace the floor and fast-forward the disc to the end.
I need to know if they leave her alive or not.
Once they are each done, they unstrap her from her restraints and tell her to get dressed.
Her eyes seem so lifeless. Like every ounce of dignity she had was gone in an instant.
Like she has nothing else to give to the world.
My heart breaks for her, the familiarity of it all rushing back in a wave.
I fight to push those feelings aside and turn the disc off.
I’ve seen enough to know what to expect from the rest of them. I vow to make this one extra painful.
Moving along to the rest of the apartment, I make a pit stop at the photos on the wall.
Family photos of what I assume are of him and his mom hang on the grimy grey walls.
They look happy, likely not having a clue about how horrible a human her son is.
There are some from when he was a child, playing on the school’s football team.
Others are from college, partying at a fraternity.
Moving along the wall, looking at the rest of them, I’m suddenly stunned in place.
There, on the wall, hangs a photo of James and a man on a fishing trip.
They’re on a boat out in the middle of an ocean, and James is holding up what looks to be a massive tuna.
Standing next to him is none other than the man I’ve been dying to kill for seven years.
The man who took someone from me. The man who led me to Nikki.
I stare blankly for a second because I’m still not sure I’m seeing things correctly.
How could they know each other? Does he know about his and Nikki’s connection? Has James been in contact with him?
The plan has suddenly changed. It appears that James will get to live another day.
While I’d love to kill him now, I need to know if I can use this connection to find the man I’ve been looking for.
He has to know something, and if I kill him now, I may never get answers.
I glance over the apartment once more, ensuring nothing is out of place that would raise suspicion.
Locking the door behind me, I make my way back to my car.
Once inside, I start the engine and just sit there, still in disbelief at what I just discovered.
I am not easily caught off guard, my profession making it dangerous for that to occur, but I can honestly say that I did not see that coming.
Putting the car in drive, I head to my own apartment. My mind is spinning the entire time, replaying everything that just happened over and over again in my mind. I need to know. I need to know the connection.
Because why the fuck was James standing next to Sean Edwards in that fishing photo?