The Zoo Crew (Zoo Crew series Book 1)

by Dustin Stevens

  Behind it stood a very angry Lauer.

  If Lauer noticed how pissed Drake was, he ignored it. Instead, the tiny man burst forth from the door frame as if he might hit him, even shook a finger in his direction.

  "I thought I told you to never come here again!" he bellowed. He kept coming forward, brandishing the finger in front of him.

  His anger quickly receded as he realized Drake was not retreating. He even had to pull up short just to keep from running chest-first into him.

  Drake stood with his fists clenched by his side and glowered down at his Professor. He shifted his body to the side.

  "Just so were clear, that man standing behind me is my friend. That wrench in his hand is very, very real. You might be a big time attorney, but right now neither one of us gives a damn.

  "So be very careful about the next words out of your mouth. Where would they have taken her?"

  All bravado had evaporated from Lauer. His face went from crimson to pasty in a matter of seconds. His jaw dropped open as he peered around Drake to Rink.

  For his part, Rink made sure Lauer got a good look at the wrench in his hand.

  "Taken who?" Lauer asked. His voice was just above a whisper.

  Drake shrugged. "Have it your way."

  He turned and nodded to Rink.

  Rink stepped onto the porch in one bound. He held the wrench by his side and went straight for Lauer. "Knee or elbow?"

  "Oh Jesus," Lauer said. "What are you doing? You can't do this! People will see, they'll call the police."

  Rink bore down on him and drew the wrench back.

  Lauer crumpled to the ground in front of them. Tears streamed down his face. "You assholes couldn't just listen to me, could you?"

  Rink paused. Looked a question to Drake.

  Drake gave a tiny shake of the head and stepped forward. "Listened about what?"

  Lauer remained on his knees. Folded his arms in tight across his stomach. "I knew what you were talking about the second you showed up here on Sunday. Why do you think I acted that way? I was trying to protect you!"

  "Protect us?" Drake asked. "By keeping us in the dark? Not telling us who the hell we were up against?"

  "Because you were better off not knowing," Lauer said. "Can't you see that? I knew this would happen if you kept digging!"

  Drake looked at Rink, jerked his head towards Lauer.

  Rink got the message. He stepped forward and positioned the wrench just inches in front of his prey's nose.

  "How? How did you know?" Drake asked. "Were you in on it?"

  Lauer opened his mouth to answer, got as far as the wrench staring back at him. Choked out a couple of unintelligible words.

  "How, dammit?" Drake snapped.

  "No, no no no," Lauer said, shaking his head. "They came to me a long time ago. They needed a lawyer, asked if I wanted in. Said they would fabricate some pictures and show them to my wife if I didn't join them."

  "So you did it?" Drake asked.

  "No!" Lauer shouted. "I have kids of my own, I couldn't be part of that. The assholes still ended my marriage anyway. Stop by every now and again to make sure I haven't told anybody."

  Drake leaned back. Cast a glance to Rink.

  "Why do you think I took you guys to see that adoption hearing?" Lauer whispered. "They make me go. Make me watch. Remind me that my kids will be next if I ever say a word to anybody."

  Drake nodded. For some reason, he believed Lauer's story. Something about the raw emotion he used when telling it.

  It was too personal to be fake.

  "Where?" Drake asked.

  Lauer raised his eyes. He tried to look at Drake, got a good view of the wrench instead.

  "Where? Drake repeated.

  "I don't know," Lauer said. "I swear to God I don't know where they'd take her."

  Rink drew the wrench back again. Aimed it at the man's exposed right shoulder.

  Lauer cringed and rolled down onto his side. "I don't know! I swear! They have a compound down in the Bitterroot, right off the highway. That's where they take the girls. They'd kill me if they found out I even know that."

  "How do you know that?" Drake pressed.

  "Riley Bennett, the attorney from the hearing, was drunk and told me one night. I doubt that's where they'd take her, but that's all I know. I swear on my kid's lives, that's all I know!"

  After the last word, his body pulled itself into the fetal position.

  Drake looked again at Rink. Tossed his head towards the truck.

  There was nothing more for them to get here.

  Rink tapped the wrench on the ground once more for effect and watched as Lauer cringed.

  Together, the two of them walked off the porch and back to the truck.

  Behind them, Lauer remained curled tight into a ball on the ground, sobbing.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Variety is the spice of life.

  A cliché to be sure, but for some reason it had always resonated with Notch. Something about its purist simplicity.

  And the fact that it was absolutely, unquestionably, correct.

  Behind him, the girl lay face up on an oversized wooden workbench. Her limbs were spread wide into an X, her wrists and ankles secured with links of baling twine.

  She was sedated, but only a little. He didn't want her squirming or screaming.

  Did want her cognizant of everything that was going on.

  A pile of miscellaneous tools and paint cans lay off to the side. When they'd arrived an hour before, Notch had cleared the table with one swipe of his arm.

  The barn was the last tangible remnant of his parents. The only thing of any value they'd left him on the small parcel of land high in the hills north of town.

  The only thing after he'd burned the house to the ground the very night they died anyway.

  They always did say they wanted to be cremated. Seemed foolish to pay someone else to do it.

  The girl lay with her head to the side, staring right at him. Her eyes looked clear and unblinking, but he knew they were fuzzy at best.

  He didn't need her to see everything that was about to happen. Just needed her to feel it.

  It wasn't any fun for him unless he knew they felt it.

  The girl released a string of mumbles just loud enough to draw his attention. The words were all unintelligible. A line of drool ran from her mouth.

  "Slow down, baby," Notch said. He smiled for his own benefit, not hers. "We've got to make your boyfriend sweat. Drag this out until the wee hours of dawn."

  The girl tried to choke out some more words. Her shoulder twitched as if she were trying to flee.

  The combination of twine and drugs kept her from moving even an inch.

  "Oh, alright. Have it your way," Notch said and looked down at the selection of toys he had brought, all lined up on a tarp.

  The arrangement made him think of himself like a surgeon readying for a procedure.

  Notch stood with his arms folded across his chest for a moment. Pondered the assortment of goodies spread out in front of him.

  He needed something that would bring about excruciating pain. Would leave a mark.

  More than that though, he needed something that she could survive until morning.

  His eyes lingered on a blow torch on the far right side of the spread. Flicked over to a pair of pliers still bearing crusted blood from just a week before.

  A smile grew on his face.

  "I wonder," Notch said aloud, "how attached are you to your toenails?"

  The girl's eyes grew a fraction wider. Again her shoulder shrugged against the table.

  A string of garble and saliva spewed from her face.

  Notch drowned it all out with the sound of lighting the blowtorch.

  Chapter Fifty

  Drake slid back into the passenger seat of the truck and used the tail of his shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead.

  "We heading out there?" Rink asked as he folded himself behind the wheel and pulled the tr
uck away from the curb in front of Lauer's house.

  The wrench sat on the front bench seat between him and Ella. She didn't seem to notice.

  "No," Drake said. "Drop me off in front of the rec center."

  Rink made a face. "Say what?"

  "I can't ask you to go out there," Drake said.

  "You didn't," Rink said. He didn't need to add that he was volunteering, maybe even demanding, to make the trip.

  "Not with her in tow," Drake said.

  Rink started to reply, but stopped short. Snorted in agreement.

  "Besides, we have no idea what's out there. I doubt they have her there. Might just be a group of pregnant girls sitting around watching TV."

  "You really believe that?"

  Drake remained silent, watched as the law school came into view. Rink maneuvered them past it and pulled to a stop in front of the rec.

  "I'll call you as soon as I know anything," Drake said. He jumped from the truck and hit the ground running without waiting for a response.

  He went inside just long enough to hit the locker room. He changed back into his black t-shirt and used the one he was wearing to towel off once more.

  Opted to remain in the gym shorts and running shoes.

  Something told him they might be more effective than flip-flops and jeans.

  Five minutes after jumping from Rink's truck, he climbed into his own. He aimed it towards the south end of town and laid on the gas.

  The early evening traffic was thin and allowed him to move through it with ease. Off to his right, the sun began its descent below the horizon. The temperature was starting to drop, but his entire body was bathed in sweat.

  The directions Lauer gave him were simple enough to follow. There was only road that led south into the Bitterroot Valley, and it was a highway.

  Shortly after leaving campus, he left the edge of Missoula behind. Just ten minutes after that, he slowed his truck and made a left turn into an unmarked driveway.

  Just like Lauer said.

  Drake felt his pulse quicken as he pulled the truck back the gravel lane. He wrapped around a small bend in the path and behind him the highway disappeared. Even the sound of it fell away.

  A hundred thoughts raced through his head as a cluster of buildings appeared.

  What was he doing here? What would he do if he found Ava? How far was he willing to go to protect her?

  From the moment he'd gotten the call atop the mountain, he'd been moving with blind energy. For the first time in a couple of hours, he could actually see what he was doing playing out in front of him.

  What he was doing was very stupid.

  Rink and possibly Lauer were the only two people on earth that knew where he was. There could be at least one, maybe many, psychopaths waiting for him.

  He couldn't call the police. They were involved.

  He couldn't call his friends. He didn't want them any more involved.

  Drake gripped the steering wheel tightly. Forced himself to breath. Watched as the buildings grew closer.

  The lane ended in a small turnabout in front of a single level house. Off to the side was two smaller buildings connected by a breezeway.

  "Main headquarters, bunk houses for the girls," Drake whispered.

  Only a single car sat in the driveway. An older SUV with bumper stickers that read Montana Tech Miners and Butte, America.

  Even in the waning evening light, he could tell the house was void of life.

  "Cars gone, lights out," Drake mumbled. "Nobody's home."

  Drake pulled the truck to a stop just past the front door, left it facing the road in case he needed to make a quick getaway.

  There was no chance Ava was here. Still, he had no other options. He had to go inside and see what he could find.

  Drake left the keys in the ignition and climbed out. He barely clicked the door closed and moved in long bounds across the gravel driveway onto the front sidewalk.

  Paused and listened.

  There was no sound.

  Breathing hard, he stepped to the front door and checked the knob. Found it open and slid inside.

  Just like with the truck, he left it cracked open behind him. Stood on the front foyer and listened for any sound.

  To his left was an oversized living room. Standard arrangement of furniture and television.

  In front of him extended a hallway. He could see a large kitchen at the end of it. Pots and pans hung from hooks along the ceiling. A small lamp was on above the oven, but there was no movement of any kind.

  Off to the right was a room bathed in eerie grey light. Drake stepped towards it and found a bank of television monitors displaying various views of the grounds.

  His heart began to pound even harder.

  Lauer was right to use the word compound. Every square inch of the place was being monitored.

  Beneath the screens was a wide desk and two computer CPU's to record the footage. A black leather desk chair set empty in front of everything.

  Drake rose onto the balls of his feet and shuffled into the room. He rifled through the drawers in the desk and checked each of the shelves on a small wall unit in the back.

  There was no paper of any kind in the room. Not just anything that would give him a clue where Ava might be.

  Nothing, period.

  Whoever these people were, they were efficient. And paranoid as hell.

  Frustrated, Drake gave up on the room and turned his attention to the monitors. Maybe there was somebody on the grounds that could help him.

  The top row consisted of views within the house. The kitchen. The living room. A pair of bedrooms. Even the room he now stood in.

  The rest of the house looked normal. If there was nothing of value in this room, there was nothing anywhere inside.

  The second row displayed the rear of the grounds. A deck with split log furniture. A fire pit. A boat landing for fishing the river.

  The third row showed the other buildings he'd seen when driving up. The first two screens showed a room of empty beds. Assorted clothes and gear were strewn about.

  The place was in use, but vacant for the time being.

  The last two screens showed an exact replica of the first bunkhouse. Two even rows of beds with clothing and such thrown about.

  The only difference was the half dozen girls interspersed among them.

  Drake felt his breath catch in his throat. "They'll know where he has her," he whispered aloud.

  He didn't bother to check the last two rows of camera feeds. He turned on his heel and headed for the front door. Eased out and closed it behind him.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat stopped him where he stood.

  Slowly, Drake turned to face the driveway.

  Six men, all weighing at least forty more pounds than he did, stared back at him.

  "Oh shit."

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The girl was easier to break than Notch anticipated.

  He'd started on her left foot. Removed her big toe nail first and watched her body feeble attempts to thrash about.

  Seared the gaping hole closed with the blow torch and watched her squirm some more.

  Saliva poured from her mouth. Tears streamed from her eyes.

  By the second toenail, she was unconscious.

  Notch considered finishing the foot while she was out, but decided against it. He hated leaving anything undone. At the same time, he hated his victims not experiencing every excruciating second of his work.

  A master likes to be appreciated.

  Years of practice had taught him it was better to wait an hour or so before reviving a victim. Any sooner, and the pain is too raw. They'll just go right back under.

  Instead, he put his tools back into place on the tarp. Settled into a fold-out chair and waited.

  It was a short wait.

  Ten minutes after he was done with the girl's second toe, the sound of tires on gravel caught his attention. He left everything in the room as it was and picked up a
machete from the spread of implements on the floor.

  Within seconds, he'd melted into the shadows of the room.

  The sound of footsteps filtered in. A moment later, the barn door swung open.

  Yelena emerged, followed by Mayor Sloan.

  Both made faces as they did so. Raised forearms to their noses and looked like they may vomit at any moment.

  "Notch?" Yelena called.

  Notch paused to make sure they were alone before stepping out from the corner of the room. He tapped the machete against the front of his jeans as he went.

  A little reminder that he'd heard them coming. Could have done anything he wanted the moment they walked in.

  "What the hell is that smell?" Mayor Sloan asked.

  Notch jerked his head towards the table. "Let's just say our friend won't be dancing any time soon."

  Yelena made another face and looked past Notch to the table. "You're a sick man, you know that?"

  The same sadistic smile met the comment. "Isn't that why you hired me?"

  As best Notch could tell, it was the reason they'd hired him.

  How they got his name was still a mystery to him. Something inside told him he should care a little more, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

  It was no secret that he'd had a reputation since he was a kid. Started when he used to torture neighborhood pets.

  When word got out, his parents moved him to the country away from town. It didn't help. Instead of hunting cats with a slingshot, he started walking the woods at night, hunting bears with a gun on either hip.

  By the time he was an adult, the stories around town had taken on a life of their own. People began to speak of him in hushed whispers, started referring to him as Notch.

  The part he always found amusing was that despite the whispers, the people couldn't begin to fathom all the things he'd done. If they could, they'd have come up with something a lot worse to call him.

  "Why are you here?" Notch said. "Come to make sure I didn't kill her?"

  Yelena's face remained twisted, as if trying to block the smell of charred flesh. "The plot has thickened."

  "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

  Mayor Sloan held up a cell-phone and wagged it from side to side. "We were at a campaign dinner. Got a message that the house has been breached."