Page 33

One Week Before the Abduction

N icole helped Casey pack the generator into the back of his pickup truck, along with the chalkboard and folding tables.

They took one last pass through Coleman’s to make sure the old brewhouse was empty of the club’s presence.

They were sure to sanitize the ruins out back where they had kept Diana Wells, removing the tape and plastic wrap they had used to restrain her, and tossing the chair that held her onto the tracks for the next passing freight to demolish.

“She looked like a goddamn zombie when we cut her loose,” Nicole said in the passenger seat. “If she goes to the cops, they may not take her seriously.”

“Either way,” Casey said, “better to close things down for a while just in case. ”

“What are the cops going to do to us? She agreed to it,” Nicole said. “Like all of us. You asked her if she wanted it, just like you asked me. She’s just mad because of how we did it. She was expecting us to grab her from a dark alley, and instead you seduced her.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I know is that we’re done with club stuff for a while.”

“This is bullshit,” Nicole said. “It’s not our fault she’s so soft.”

Diana Wells’s breakdown while bound and gagged at the brewery was proof that she expected none of it.

Casey had misjudged her response to the ordeal when they finally cut her loose and welcomed her into the club.

Nearly catatonic when they pulled the plastic wrap from her arms and wrists, Diana Wells could not walk.

And when the gag came from her mouth, words never followed.

Prepared to cheer and celebrate, the club instead dispersed quickly that night, some running with scared looks and coolers in tow when Diana collapsed to the ground and no one could rouse her.

Casey finally drove her back to the bar and left her in the parking lot.

The Diana Wells situation now posed a problem.

There were rumors that she would go to the police, and that her parents knew about the club.

With his deadline approaching for delivering the next girl, Casey couldn’t afford attention from the police.

But he had to move forward. There were precautions he could take to cover his tracks should the cops hunt him down and ask about Diana Wells.

Clearing out Coleman’s was the first step. Today’s errand was the next.

He pulled off the highway and turned right at the end of the off-ramp. A strip mall unfolded along the side of the road. Casey pulled into the lot and parked a good distance from the entrance of a Goodwill store.

“Here’s the list,” he said to Nicole, slipping her a piece of paper.

“Why’d we come all the way out here for this stuff?”

“Just go get it, okay? And throw some random stuff in with it.”

“Like what?”

“Whatever. Just buy some junk.”

With the slip of paper in hand, Nicole walked the length of the parking lot and entered the Goodwill store.

She purchased a long-sleeved button-down shirt, a pair of cargo pants, and an ugly pair of sneakers—all the items from Casey’s list that he would wear for the next take.

He’d burn each item afterward, but should any evidence be left behind—from fibers to footprints—he would make sure it didn’t lead to him.

For the random items, Nicole grabbed a jigsaw puzzle, an ugly plastic plant, and a set of barbecue tools that came packaged in a worn, wooden box.