Dethroned (Darker Places Book 3)

by Nicole Cypher

  "Yep," I replied. "Have a good night."

  Anthony turned and sauntered out of the office, the motion-sensored lights shutting off shortly after he left. I allowed my mind to drift into my own life for a minute instead of focusing on the lives of those who lived in my computer. As far as anyone was concerned, I was a rookie detective. Anthony and the rest of the team rarely showed me the respect I felt I deserved based on my years of experience in law enforcement. It didn't help that I was a woman, but you know what? I had far more dedication and follow through than any of them. They could be annoyed with me all they wanted.

  Anthony was technically lead detective on this case, but I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. As a woman, how could I not? Young women all over this city were being victimized by vile men who invaded my every thought. Each day, the human trafficking ring that existed in Salt Lake City took the life of another woman, and I was responsible for stopping it. Damn right I was dedicated.

  My attention turned back to the computer screen and I stared into the eyes of the man responsible—Kevin Cryson. I felt as if I knew him at this point, even though we'd never met. I'd spent the last year seeing him in my nightmares until I feared and hated him to my very core. He was the leader of the ring. All evidence pointed to it, including his blood being found at an auction house the ring had used that’d burned to the ground.

  We'd gotten a match on his DNA from an arrest made several years ago after he’d brutally assaulted a woman in a BDSM club. The DNA was enough to get us a warrant to search his house where we found a torture chamber, along with every degrading instrument known to man. All that by itself wouldn't have led to a case. It simply would've suggested the bastard was a sick person who was nowhere to be found. But his DNA wasn't the only one discovered. We matched DNA of a woman from his home to the auction house crime scene. A woman I only knew to be his last victim, Katie Bradshaw.

  Her father had told us all about the ring, and how they'd kidnapped his daughter and threatened his and her lives if he told the police. Things unraveled from there and each new piece of evidence was more disturbing than the last. I wouldn't stop until Kevin Cryson and all involved were behind bars.

  I clicked on another folder, and a photo of Katie Bradshaw popped up. She'd been a straight-A college freshman when she’d been taken. My eyes began to burn, and I closed them, holding my face in my hands. I hoped with everything she was still alive. That I wasn't too late. The only reason I'd known Cryson wasn’t worm food was because of a few people on the inside I'd managed to get to talk. According to them, the ring was on hold, but not for long. I'd be there if anything changed, with at least one informant to help me nail them.

  And then maybe I'd be able to sleep again.

  With a deep breath, I clicked out of Katie Bradshaw's picture and opened the folder I'd been looking deeper into lately. The handsome form of a man who exuded dominance and control popped up. Jake Cryson was the brother of the ring leader and the key to finding him. The problem was, we only had the photo.

  The man didn't leave tracks like his brother had, and it kept us from knowing he even existed for some time. He was distanced from the trafficking ring, and none of the informants could tell us much about him, until recently. I'd finally made a contact on the inside who could give me information, but even that was limited. It was only his genetics and the way he carried himself in the photo that led me to believe he was involved somehow. And I was bound to find out.

  I pressed the power button on the computer and waited as the image disappeared and the room darkened. I hadn't eaten since lunchtime and my stomach growled as I stood. As much as I wanted to believe I'd call it a night, go home and open a bottle of Merlot and watch some annoying rom com, I knew I'd be opening my laptop later. My only hope was that not every case would be like this.

  2

  Jake

  "Relax, Isabella."

  "How can you tell me to relax? Just tell me, Jake. What do you think would happen to me if you left?"

  "Jesus Christ, why don't you say my name a little louder."

  Isabella tensed under my scrutiny. Of course, she'd already been tense. The entire manor had since Dravin had taken charge.

  It'd only been three days, but he’d wasted no time making changes. He'd brought several men along with him, replacing my own who'd been with me for years. His reason being he was convinced the mole leaking information to the police was someone I'd hired.

  I understood Isabella's concern and doubted it had anything to do with her own well-being. Just then, as if thinking of him made him appear, Maddix peeked into the lounge Isabella and I occupied. I wondered how long he'd been listening.

  He took the seat beside Isabella and placed a hand in hers. She visibly relaxed, her shoulders slumping as she subtly leaned into him.

  "Have you heard anything?" Maddix asked, removing his hand in case one of Dravin's men happened to appear. I suppose he figured it was safe to bet Dravin wasn't as understanding as me.

  "As far as I'm aware, Dravin has no intention of replacing you. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

  Maddix gave a curt nod and looked off into space. "Do you know what he has planned, sir? Business wise?" He twisted back toward me as he spoke.

  "Maddix, your job has always been to guard the manor. Nothing more, nothing less. The company's business matters are none of your concern." I stood, redirecting my attention to Isabella. "I suggest you head up to your room and stay there until I'm back."

  "When will that be?" Isabella asked.

  Ignoring the question, I pulled on the suit jacket and left the lounge.

  "Sir," My driver, Gordon, said with a nod, opening the back door to the Escalade. I gave a curt nod back and climbed inside, shoving my hands into my suit pockets and fidgeting with the USB I had tucked inside.

  "Where to, sir?"

  "89th and Chestnut."

  The car crept down the driveway and past the wrought-iron gate, all the while I stared out the window and admired the property. Bright green grass covered the lawn all the way to the trees. The manor was situated in the middle of a forested landscape, mostly to keep it hidden, but I found a great deal of beauty in the surrounding nature as well. It was home. Regardless of the circumstances and what my belligerent father might have thought, I'd worked my entire life to get here, and I had no intentions of allowing anyone to take it from me.

  Dravin succeeded in keeping me out of the loop regarding his plans, but I had plans of my own. In the meantime, all I had to do was lay low and not panic. My value to this company would be realized soon enough.

  "Park here," I ordered as we neared our destination.

  Gordon pulled the car over next to a sidewalk and turned back to glance at me. "Should I wait, sir?"

  "No. Just be back in a couple of hours. I'll be a little while."

  I climbed out of the car and shut the door, waiting until the Escalade was no longer in sight. It isn't that I didn't trust my own men. I did. One mole had already come from one of my brother's hires and I assumed that was where the others were. However, when you've done this as long as I have, you learn that everyone is a liability with the proper motivation. Torture had a way of extracting information out of even the most trustworthy of employees.

  I made my way down the sidewalk in the opposite direction Gordon had gone. The intoxicating smell of pho beef broth wafted into my nose as I passed the familiar Vietnamese restaurant. I inhaled deeper and relished the scent before smiling as I made eye-contact with the woman selling vegetables from her stand as children kicked a ball back and forth along the pavement.

  The crowd of people thickened as I moved farther into Chinatown, and soon I disappeared into the masses. Of course I stuck out in this part of the city, but so did anyone who might’ve followed me. That was the point. Every so often, I’d glance over my shoulder, searching for anyone who appeared as if they didn’t belong.

  With one last glance around, I ducked my head as I entered the Chinese re
staurant, immediately catching the owner's eye.

  "Ni hao," I said, nodding my head.

  "Ni hao, Mr. C."

  I followed as he escorted me to the back room, saying something to a waitress in Mandarin. He opened the door and waved a hand toward it. "No disturb."

  I smiled and nodded, stepping around him to enter the room. The door shut behind me, and I widened my smile as I took in the man I came to meet.

  "Senator, good to see you again."

  He stood and extended his hand. "You as well."

  I shook his hand and took a seat, not missing the sweat that covered his palm or his nervous swallow. Wiping my hand on my pant leg, I leaned forward.

  "We don't have any problems, do we?"

  "I can't deliver on my end. The campaign is too close for me to do anything stupid. I-I'm sorry."

  He swallowed yet again, and I relaxed back in the chair, not remotely surprised. "I see."

  "You understand. Don't you?"

  My lips tugged into a grin. "Of course, Carlson. I understand." I stood after pulling the USB from my pocket and sliding it across the table to him. "You know how to contact me if you change your mind."

  "Wait, what is this?" the senator asked, studying the USB carefully as if it might explode.

  The smile evaporated from my face along with whatever friendliness I might have displayed with it. "Incentive." I turned and strode toward the door, glancing over my shoulder before exiting. "Don't forget to wait thirty minutes after I leave. Wouldn't want any tax payers catching you talking with me.”

  He sat there, his mouth agape and eyes wide. Mild disappointment flooded me over not being able to be there when he saw the contents on the USB. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t blowing up my phone in the next hour.

  "Zhidao xia yici," I said to the owner as I passed him on the way out. He nodded and waved goodbye as I left. A sigh rushed past my lips as I stepped out onto the street and checked my watch. I still had an hour and a half to kill before Gordon would be back.

  With a glance at the people passing by, I headed right. A bar I liked to frequent when I came down here was only a block or two away.

  Laila

  Forty-seven minutes. I’d been sitting at a table inside the country club for forty-seven minutes waiting for my informant’s arrival. Anxiety trickled in around the half hour mark. He was always on time, and if anything had happened to him, I’d never forgive myself. I knew the danger he put himself in by working with us, and I was beyond grateful for his bravery. Even if it hadn’t given us anything solid thus far.

  I tried to will some of the worry away and went back to nursing my drink. It was club soda today, and I swirled the straw around the glass, sending carbonated bubbles up to the surface.

  "Sorry I'm late."

  I peered up as my informant sat across from me. The anxiety evaporated, and I was able to breathe easy again.

  "Scotch on the rocks, please," he said to the waitress before addressing me.

  I sat up straighter in the chair and allowed the straw to fall back against the glass.

  "Any updates?"

  The waitress reappeared, setting a glass of amber liquid in front of him. He took a swig and made a face as he swallowed.

  "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "There's a new guy in charge. His name's Dravin Hines, but that's all I know about him."

  I leaned closer, sliding my elbows along the table. "What about Cryson?" I asked, ensuring my voice was low. I had no worries about anyone recognizing my guy here. The country club was extremely exclusive, filled with rich doctors and lawyers. I could monitor every member, and none were on my list of names associated with the trafficking ring. Still, that name had power and meaning in this city, as I'd come to know, and I wouldn't risk the surrounding visitors getting curious.

  "Demoted."

  My eyebrows quirked. "Demoted? By who? I thought the Cryson brothers ran everything?"

  "So did I," he said, glancing around. "Look, that's all I got for you. Are we good?"

  He didn't wait for me to respond before he lifted the glass and poured the rest of the contents down his throat, wincing as he did. He stood, but before he could leave I placed a hand on his arm. "Where is Cryson now?"

  "Still at the manor. I'm sure at some point Hines will force him out. I'll keep you updated."

  "See you in two weeks?" I asked, resting my hand back on the table.

  He nodded before striding out of the club.

  I sighed and shrunk back in the chair as I digested the information. I still didn't know what it was Jake Cryson did for these people and now someone had taken his job? It seemed like the closer I got to solving this case, the more wrenches were thrown in.

  The man who'd just left was the best informant I'd had and he knew next to nothing. Most were involved with the drug trafficking and only knew small tidbits about the sex trafficking ring. They couldn't tell me where it was or how the women were picked. All they knew was that Kevin Cryson had been responsible until he’d vanished. The rest was a trail of breadcrumbs leading to a whole lot of confusion. So much was unknown, and without the location I'd never have a big enough case. As far as a defense attorney would be concerned, it was all hearsay, along with bodies that couldn't be pinned to anything other than a statement made by a man named Snake who’d already gone AWOL.

  I picked up the glass of club soda and brought it to my lips. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and my heart quickened as I looked at the caller ID.

  "Ashby," I said into the phone.

  "Well? Any new leads?"

  "Jacob Cryson was demoted. There's a new guy in charge named Dravin Hines."

  "Where'd he come from?" Anthony asked.

  "I'm not sure."

  "You don't know or you didn't ask?"

  Anger flared and I gripped the phone tighter. "The informant isn't clued in on everything, detective. That's all he knows."

  "Right," Anthony said, unconvinced. "I've got a few leads on another case, so you'll need to manage this on your own for a while. Think you can handle it?"

  I clenched my jaw at his condescending tone. He treated me as if I were a teenager being left at home alone. It wasn't clear whether his disrespect came from sexism or if he was just a dick. Time would tell.

  "Yes, detective. I've worked this case for a year. I'm sure I'll be just fine."

  "Great."

  The line died, and I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I placed my credit card down on the table and gave a small smile to the waitress when she took it. How many arrogant assholes did she have to deal with on a regular basis? Probably even more than me.

  When she returned with the card, I signed the receipt and threw a few bills on the table before getting up and leaving the club. The spring air had a slight chill and the breeze helped cool my face that had heated with rage. My anger still bubbled long after I'd driven home.

  I pulled out my laptop and glimpsed over the information I had once again. As I got to Jake Cryson's photo, I stared into his fern green eyes that contrasted the blue of his brother’s. He was the key to this. I knew it deep in my bones. His brother never would've left without telling Jake where he planned to go. Even if I didn't know the man's involvement, he was the source worth looking into. I took a sip of red wine and stared at the picture until my eyes crossed and head pounded.

  3

  Laila

  He kept glancing back as if he knew someone followed him. I kept my eyes forward and my steps even as I paced the sidewalk across the street from Jake Cryson. Today, I wore my hair down in an attempt to shield my face, although he was far enough ahead that he'd never be able to tell I glanced his way every few seconds. The high-heeled boots I wore killed my feet and had for the past four blocks. It made me regret attempting to fancy up tonight as if I were just another girl on the town. Not as much as the halter top dress, however. It wouldn't stop riding up, and I had to stop at least twice every block to pull it farther down on my thighs. What was the expression… Be
auty is pain?

  Jake Cryson wasn't looking too bad himself. Even from a distance I could see the black suit he wore framed him perfectly. The man was handsome and it helped that he had all the resources for custom tailored suits and thousand dollar haircuts. Resources that came from depravity. As striking as the man was, he was ugly on the inside. At least I thought so. I hoped tonight would be the night I found out his role in the trafficking ring.

  So far, I'd managed to follow him to an abandoned building in a fairly shady neighborhood. How he managed to strut with an expensive suit like that without getting mugged was beyond me.

  He'd only stayed in the building approximately ten minutes before he strode out, continuing down the street. No one entered or exited with him, which made me think the building was some kind of drop-off point. He didn't appear to be carrying anything, though.

  Another thing that struck me as odd was the absence of a bodyguard. I'd never seen the manor the man lived in because it sat in a secluded location, with guards surrounding the property. You couldn't drive within a mile of the place without sensors issuing a warning to a surveillance crew. Even with him being demoted, I would’ve thought he'd have had at least another person there for protection. Instead, he'd been dropped off on the side of the road by a black Escalade that pulled away shortly after. We'd walked about a mile and a half down this road so far, only stopping for the brief period he went into the building.

  As I stared at the man and contemplated his motives, my heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk. I fell forward, arms flailing as a gasp escaped me. Time ticked by in slow motion as I stumbled, but I regained my balance before I could fall to the ground. I slapped a hand over my mouth and hoped that hadn’t been loud enough for him to notice. Shit.

  With a peek across the street, I noted Jake Cryson didn't seem fazed. He carried on with that confident stride of his, hands in his pockets and chin held high. I almost admired the confidence that radiated off the man, even from this distance. You'd think someone who'd been demoted less than two weeks ago would have had a dent in their pride. Not him, but then again he hadn’t been entirely let go. Unless for some reason he enjoyed roaming around in bad neighborhoods late at night, he still did some sort of shady work for the ring.