Page 55 of The Sinner's Son

“Probably,” Katie said. “Cory has no reason to believe we’re onto him, and I think he’s sticking close to home because he has a situation he’s not equipped to handle.”

Royce jerked his head in her direction. “You think Dane is alive?”

“That’s my hope,” Katie replied. “Cory could have acted on impulse and then panicked, unsure what to do with Dane. He likely has severe mental health issues, but that doesn’t make him a killer.” She sighed and glanced at Royce. “Or he just hasn’t worked up his courage to kill him yet.”

“Shit.”

Katie killed the lights and sirens a few blocks from Cory’s house so they wouldn’t announce their arrival prematurely. She parked two doors down, and they casually walked the short distance to avoid drawing attention. The silver sedan from the video footage was in front of a tidy bungalow with a meticulous lawn. They made brief eye contact before Katie pounded on the front door.

“Cory Sands! It’s the Savannah Police Department. Open up.”

Sounds of movement came from the other side of the door, getting louder as someone approached. Royce’s palm rested on the butt of his gun, and he really hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He prayed Katie was right about Dane still being alive because he’d never wanted to be more wrong about something.

The door opened a few inches to reveal a sliver of Cory’s face, but it was enough for Royce to know something was very off. The only visible honey-brown eye darted between Royce and Katie without recognition or expression. No curiosity about why the SPD had forcefully knocked on his door, and he didn’t express any irritation that they’d interrupted his lunch. Just complete emptiness. Without a warrant, they couldn’t force their way inside and would need to rely on other methods to get hiscooperation. Since Katie was the lead detective, Royce let her set the tone.

“Open the door so I can fully see you and your hands,” Katie commanded.

“What’s this about?” Cory asked, his voice as bland as his gaze was vacant. “Why are you here?”

“Open the door. Now. I need to see your hands.”

Cory’s eye dropped lower to where her hand rested on the butt of her weapon before snapping back up to her face. He blinked, and Royce thought he saw a spark of something in his eyes, maybe a hint of fear, but it fizzled out. Cory eased the door open until his body came into full view. His weapon-free hands fell to his sides, where his thumbs fidgeted with the seams in his pant legs. “Now, will you tell me why you’re here?” Annoyance had crept into his tone.

“What the hell have you done with Dane Sutton?” Katie demanded. Oh damn. She went straight in. “And don’t bullshit me,” she added before a lie could form on Cory’s mouth. “Security cameras captured you picking Dane up in front of Alec Bishop’s house. No one had seen or heard from him since.”

“You’re lying,” Cory said with the least amount of conviction Royce had ever heard from a suspect. He shook his head in further denial. But whose benefit was that for? His or theirs?

A dull scraping sound came from inside the house. It sounded like wood scraping against wood. It happened again but louder the second time.

Hope flared in Royce’s heart. “Who’s in there with you?”

“No one,” Cory said, then ruined the denial when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Mind if we come in?” Katie asked.

“Do you have a warrant?” The smug bastard knew they didn’t, or they would’ve presented it already.

A soft thud came from inside the house, followed by more scraping and then rhythmic thumping. Royce’s pulse kicked up a notch because it sounded like someone in distress was trying to get their attention. The series of noises repeated.Thud. Scrape. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.Royce shifted closer to the door to see deeper into the house and, in doing so, encountered a foul smell that went beyond ordinary untidiness. It smelled of human excrement and body odor, but thankfully, not decomposition.Thud. Scrape. Thump. Thump. Crack. Crash.

Katie and Royce reacted immediately. She grabbed Cory’s arm, yanked him forward, and subdued him on the porch while Royce drew his gun and rushed inside the house.

“Hey!” Cory screamed. “You don’t have a warrant.”

“We don’t need one when there’s evidence of a violent crime in progress,” Katie said.

“Dane Sutton!” Royce called. “It’s Sergeant Locke with the Savannah Police Department! You’re going to be okay, buddy.” Royce’s gun led the way, sweeping left and right as he navigated the house, clearing each room as he went. The living room had been turned into a temporary bedroom with pillows and blankets strewn across the sofa. Clothes were piled high in a chair and littered the floor. The kitchen and dining nook were just as cluttered with dishes overflowing the sink, spilling onto the countertops with takeout cartons and pizza box castoffs. There were only three wooden chairs around the matching oak table tucked into the corner of the kitchen nook, and Royce knew where he’d find the fourth. The stench grew worse toward the back of the house, where the bedrooms and bathroom would be. “Dane! Can you hear me?”

A muffled, hoarse cry came from the last room on the right. Royce repressed the urge to run straight there and cautiously cleared an empty bedroom and the bathroom first before moving farther down the hallway. They didn’t know if Coryhad an accomplice or what methods had been used to restrain Dane. Royce didn’t want to stumble into a situation that would get anyone killed. With his heart in his throat, Royce eased closer to the doorway, his gun aimed steadily in front of him. He paused momentarily, listening for signs of a threat, but only heard muffled moans. Royce swept into the room, clearing each corner, the bathroom, and the closet before holstering his gun and dropping to his knees beside Dane’s bound body. He’d been tied to the missing wooden chair and placed in a corner of the room. He’d heard Katie’s loud knock and identification and had hopped and scraped his way forward to get their attention. The steady thumping had likely come from Dane rocking the chair until one leg broke and he’d crashed onto his side.

“I’ve got backup on the way,” Katie yelled from the front of the house.

“Dane’s alive, but we need an ambulance,” Royce yelled.

“On it!”

Royce gentled his voice. “Hey, buddy. You’re going to be okay.”

Dane had been stripped to his underwear, gagged, and left basically unattended. Scattered empty bottles of water and plates with partially eaten food littered the floor. Dane reeked of urine and feces, and his condition broke Royce’s heart. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and tugged them on before easing the gag from his mouth. Royce brushed a hand over Dane’s filthy hair as the young man sobbed. Careful of where he stepped and touched, he worked Dane free from his bindings and eased him to a clean section of the floor. The young man immediately curled up into a protective ball.