Fuck.
As much as I hated the thought, we were genuinely best off to leave it up to the police. And I needed to keep his involvement quiet when it came to Alyssa—at least until I knew what had happened to Phoebe. The last thing I needed was for Alyssa to panic as well. If she found out, she’d likely climb on a plane and then Hunter would have another way of destroying me.
THINGS MOVED slower than I would’ve liked. It was the next night before Darnell had any results from the more in-depth digging I’d asked him to do. He came to visit me, bringing with him a dossier of research regarding Xavier and Hunter. Nothing in the information he’d dug up about Hunter was surprising. It indicated that perhaps Dale Richards deliberately withheld information about Hunter’s involvement in Richards Racing when he sent the finances.
The information Darnell had regarding Xavier was a little more disconcerting. Apparently, he’d beaten his high school sweetheart after she broke up with him. It hadn’t been on the police reports or background checks we’d done, and I saw why as Darnell explained the situation and why there wasn’t a trace in the official information. Between Hunter and Dale, they’d covered it up and paid the girl and her family a settlement. It was further proof that Dale was an arsehole who knowingly hid information that put Phoebe’s life in danger.
Just like he had with Jase.
It was enough to convince me that whatever else, I needed him to bleed. By the time I was done, he wouldn’t know what hit him. It wouldn’t help Phoebe, but it would mean that Dale couldn’t let another person down in the same way.
THE NEXT morning, I got the call I’d been waiting for. The police were going to Hunter’s house, and they were going to execute a search warrant. Darnell met me at the apartment and we drove over together. I didn’t want to interfere, and I was going to wait as patiently as possible across the road.
But I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to be close by if—when—they found Phoebe. If she’d been at Hunter’s mercy for twelve weeks, there was no telling what she might have suffered.
“They’ll probably take a couple of hours to go through everything,” Darnell said as we watched a few police cars pull into Hunter’s drive in succession. He flicked some switches on some radio equipment. “Police scanner,” he explained before resting back against the seat.
I’d never been on a stakeout before, but I assumed I was experiencing the closest thing I could to one. We waited in absolute silence while we watched the drive. There was no movement, and Darnell didn’t seem interested in any of the random chatter on the radio.
Almost two hours had passed before he shot bolt upright at something on the scanner. He twisted the dial and listened to the chatter.
“They’re calling off the search for the moment,” he said. “They didn’t find anything.”
“No way. She has to be there!”
Moments later, the three cars rolled back out of the drive and hit the road.
“No fucking way!” I repeated. It wasn’t possible that she wasn’t there. It wasn’t just his house, it was his house and business. There wasn’t anywhere else she could be. Was there? “Maybe we should talk to him?” I said. “Make him fucking tell me where she is.”
“That’s probably the worst thing you can do right now.”
I wanted to ignore his comments, but I didn’t. He’d dealt with this sort of shit before. I’d gone to him because he was one of the best. While he headed toward Phoebe’s apartment, I called Beau and let him know the outcome.
“What now?” I asked Darnell when I ended the call.
“Now, we wait.”
Sick to death of fucking waiting, I growled at his suggestion. I’d waited twelve fucking weeks already, and now I wanted action. I wanted blood. “I’ll find something that proves without any doubt that he has her,” I said. “I’ll go through every note we have on the file to get something the police can’t ignore.”
“I understand that you’re upset with how it went down, but this isn’t the end of it. The police are still going to be looking at Hunter. They’re going to keep the pressure on.”
“Except now he knows they’re onto him and he might fucking do something about it. He must have killed the woman in Phoebe’s hire car. What makes you think she’s safe?”
“I get it, and there’s nothing that can guarantee your daughter’s safety. All we can do is keep an eye on him. I’ll talk to my contact at the precinct and find out what they’ve learned. We’ll find her.”
“I just hope it’s not too fucking late.”
“Me too,” Darnell added under his breath.
I’d barely said goodbye to Darnell after arriving back at Phoebe’s apartment building when my phone rang.
“Xavier just confirmed he has Phoebe, and I think he’s gonna do somethin’ to her.” Beau’s words rushed out without pause and before I’d even had a chance to say anything.
“Shit.” I’d been so worried about Hunter, I’d never considered that Xavier might be the real threat.
“He was talkin’ about cleanin’ and vengeance. That she’d be his forever. I think he’s gonna kill her.”
My heart jumped and my body shook as a shot of adrenaline raced through me. Fight or flight took hold, and I didn’t care about patience or waiting or any other fucking thing Darnell had said. I was going to go to Hunter’s house and wasn’t going to leave until I had my daughter in my arms. “Call the fucking police and meet me there.”
“Yes, sir.”
BEAU WAS JUST pulling up when I hit the drive. I barely had the hire car in Park before I climbed out and raced to him.
“Where do you think she could be?” I asked, hoping Beau had visited the place before. It was a decent-sized property with both a house and the huge multi-bay shed being used as a smash repairer and wreckers. It could take days to search it all properly. “The police obviously didn’t see anything.”
“I dunno, sir, but the way Xavier spoke . . .” He trailed off as visible distress traced over his features. With a frown, he added, “He knows where she is. That much I’m sure of.”
“But do you think she could be—” I cut off when I saw the house—more specifically the bloodstain on the front door.
“She was alive when I spoke to him, that’s all I know,” Beau added.
Unable to wait for the police when my daughter was possibly dead or dying, I pushed my way into the house.
The interior was filled to the brim with pinks, florals, and ruffles. It was like a fucking fairy godmother had exploded. Having met Cora, the decor didn’t surprise me, but it felt so out of place in the face of the horror of Phoebe’s potential death.
Dotting through the room was a trail of blood that either led further inside or out the way we’d come. It was a fifty-fifty bet, but we hadn’t seen anyone leave so we pushed on deeper into the house.
We were nearly halfway through the house and hadn’t seen any sign of life. Each door down the hallway was closed except for one. Without even worrying about checking what stood behind the closed doors, I moved toward the half-open one. It wasn’t the fact it was open when the others weren’t that called me in—it was the smear of blood over the gloss surface.
I was at the door to the room when I saw her. Cora. Dead with a bullet wound to her head. My mind was assaulted with her trips to Phoebe’s apartment and all the words she’d whispered in her prayers—words about keeping Phoebe safe and on the path toward redemption. Had she known where Phoebe was the whole time? Had she been reporting back what I did and didn’t know to her husband and son?
How could she look me in the eye and provide comfort when it was in her power to help me find my fucking daughter? If she hadn’t been dead, I would have fucking killed her.
When Beau pushed the door open, my gaze skimmed the room. On the bed was a shoebox and a pile of photographs—trophies of Hunter’s sick deeds. In the middle were two photos of my daughter that were almost enough to drive me to my knees. My gaze didn’t linger on them because t
he small part of me that was still sane recognised that if I focused on the horrid images, I would stop functioning. I would fall into a spiral no one—not even Alyssa—could pull me from.
Instead, I scanned the room for anything else that might indicate what we’d walked into, and why Cora was dead. Behind the bed, movement drew my attention and when I saw the side of Hunter’s face, the rage coursing through me took hold.
I charged across the space and had him in my hold in a heartbeat. I knelt over his body and lifted him to shove his top half against the wall. A sick satisfaction flooded through me at the crack the echoed in the room. I would make him pay for what he’d done to Phoebe. His breath came in a pained exhalation. I wrapped my fingers around his throat to be sure he felt every ounce of it. “What the fuck did you do to my daughter?”
He met my eye and gave me a grin that confirmed everything I already knew about how fucked in the head he was. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I was done with him. Done with his games. Done with him fucking hurting Phoebe. I tightened my hold on his throat and squeezed. There wouldn’t be a single part of me that wouldn’t delight in squeezing the life out of him.
“Okay, I’ll tell you.” His words carried on the remains of his breath.
I relaxed my hold just enough to let him get the oxygen he needed to tell me where the fuck my daughter was.
Before I realised what was happening, Beau rushed forward and kicked something out of Hunter’s reach. Hunter responded by spitting at him and issuing words clearly designed to rile Beau’s anger. I saw the reason seconds before it happened.
Hunter was trying to goad Beau into grabbing the gun—no doubt the one that had killed Cora. It was exactly the sort of game Hunter would play—to try to pin his actions on some other hapless fool, just like he’d tried to do to me with the drugged women years earlier.
“He’s a lying sack of shit,” I warned as I shot my free hand out to stop Beau. “Don’t touch that gun. It’s probably the one that killed Cora.” I turned my attention back to Hunter. “Why’d you do it? Did she catch you in the middle of one of your depraved acts?”
Like a cornered animal, Hunter started to make wild accusations and claims about Phoebe. I wondered if he realised how close I was to choking the shit out of him.
“When I kissed her, she tasted sweet. Just like her whore mother.” He gave me a blood-soaked grin that twisted my stomach.
I didn’t even think my actions through as a red haze washed over me. I stood and kicked him, shoving my foot at the bloodstains on his side.
“Where are they?” I demanded as he winced and cried out in response to the kick I’d given him.
Fresh blood poured from his side—he’d obviously been wounded in whatever scuffle had caused Cora’s death, or possibly shortly after.
“She’s already dead. My dense fuckwit of a stepson will’ve seen to that.”
“Tell me!” I demanded as I forced the bottom of my shoe hard against his side, pressing it into the wound to cause him maximum pain.
“Fuck off, Reede.” He tried to push me off, but had little strength left. With his next breath, he coughed and blood bubbled in his mouth. I almost felt sorry for him and withdrew my foot. “Just leave me to die. Maybe I’ll meet your daughter again in hell.”
The words were too much. If she was dead, he needed to be too. I wrapped my fingers around his throat. The gurgling that issued from him as I squeezed made a beast somewhere deep inside of me happy. It made me want to squeeze harder. Moving so that our faces were inches apart, I made it clear I wasn’t fucking around when I said, “I’ll fucking speed things along for you if you don’t tell me where she is.”
The next thing I knew, I was being dragged away. Beau had wrapped his arms through mine and pulled me back from Hunter before I could finish the job. I fought his hold, but he didn’t let me go.
Hunter grinned at me with bloodstained teeth.
“You’ll never get to her in time. She’s already dead.” He finished his sentence in a sing-song voice and as he did, I saw the truth.
He’d won.
Whatever happened next—he’d won.
Even if Phoebe was miraculously still alive, she wasn’t unharmed. Had the things he’d done to her been enough to break her completely?
My anger pushed me forward, but this time Beau didn’t resist. I was back at Hunter’s side in a heartbeat and my foot found the bleeding wound in his side again.
And again.
Each kick was like therapy, and yet none of them were enough to make things better. “You fucking bastard! You did this! You hurt her!”
He laughed, and I kicked harder. “And I enjoyed every fucking second. Do you want to know how your daughter’s tears taste, Declan? Do you want to know the noises she makes when—”
I shut him up by stomping hard on his stomach. Just as I lifted my leg to deliver another blow with every ounce of hatred driving my foot, Beau tugged me away. I fought him every step of the way, but he had a surprising amount of strength now that he was showing it.
“Let me at him!” I cried as Beau forced me down the hallway rather than letting me free. “I want to fucking kill him! He needs to fucking die!”
“He’s dyin’ anyway, sir. And there ain’t nothin’ more you’re gettin' from him. We need to find Phoebe. She’s in a room made of cement.” He pushed me into the living room as he spoke. “Probably a basement or storm cellar. I don’t think there’s one under the house. You search around outside the house, and I’ll go check by the workshop.”
His words were exactly what I needed to get moving. Ignoring the fact that Hunter was still alive and kicking—even if he was injured—I followed Beau’s instruction and raced outside.
I’d barely made it around one half of the house when I heard Beau screaming my name.
I sprinted in the direction of the call, wondering if he’d found her, but my footfalls slowed as I saw what had drawn his eye. A trail of blood that led from the house to the workshop. It answered the question of whether the blood droplets inside were from someone coming or going. Obviously whoever had stabbed Hunter had run out this way. I could only think of one person—Xavier.
Hitting the corner seconds after Beau, I saw him struggling with a metal trapdoor. I reached him just as it was opened and he worked to secure it.
I didn’t stop to think. I charged into the darkness. After practically leaping down the ladder, I found another door. Beyond that was a noise that both raised my hope and simultaneously broke my heart. Sobbing. Quiet sobbing that sounded like it belonged to a woman.
Barging through the door shoulder first, I stopped when I caught sight of her.
A scream flew from Phoebe as I rushed inside. She didn’t even look at me, just curled in on herself and sobbed. Blood coated her hair and her skin. Near one of her hands was a knife, slicked with blood.
On the ground near me, Xavier lay clutching a wound at his throat. His lips moved, but no sound issued. Before I could act—not that I knew what I would do, condemn him or save him—he drew his last breath.
“Sweetheart, I’m here.” I reached for Phoebe, calling her to me.
She coiled tighter into a ball and then I noticed the chains around her wrists and one leg. Fuck.
My fists curled at my sides. What had she gone through?
Beau arrived just as I started the search for a way to free Phoebe from the chains.
“Help me find the fucking key!” I tugged on the point where they were secured by an eyelet buried deep into the concrete. There was no use trying to find a way to get that loose. Far better to have a key.
Beau joined me to help search Xavier’s pockets. It might have been a long shot, but all I could hope was that he’d planned to move her for whatever he was going to do. Seconds later, Beau called out that he’d found it and rushed to Phoebe before I could demand he give it to me so I could free her.
Although it went against my every instinct, I sat back and let him help her
. He lifted her leg with so much tenderness, I had to take back every terrible thought I’d ever had about him. His fingers worked to deftly remove the cuff around her ankle, but as soon as she was free, Phoebe tugged her leg away from his hold.
He tried to coax her to unfurl a little so he could release her wrists. When she refused, I moved closer to the pair.
“Here, let me,” I said, offering a comforting touch on his shoulder while reaching out for the key.
She relaxed as soon as I said the words, and I hoped it meant I could get through to her to help. Beau fell backward at the perceived rejection. I felt bad for him, but he wasn’t my focus.
“Sweetheart, Daddy’s here. You’re going to be okay.” I unshackled her wrists. The instant she was free, she reached for my neck and held on tightly as I picked her up. She weighed almost nothing—less than I could recall Beth weighing the last time I’d carried her. My heart bled for her and I wanted to get her out of the hellish place as soon as possible. I didn’t care about the integrity of the scene, nor did I have any concern for evidence—all I cared about was the girl in my arms. The one I’d failed twice now, but vowed I never would again.
I reached the ladder with Beau not far behind. As quietly as I could, so as not to startle her, I explained to Phoebe that I was going to pass her to Beau so that he could help me get her out—I didn’t want to drop her as I negotiated the ladder.
She clasped tighter to my neck—almost tight enough to stop my breath—and shook her head against my chest. “Please don’t let me go, Daddy.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll do what I can for you.”
“Don’t let me go.” The words were a loop as I moved to the entrance.
My dilemma was solved when she willingly went into the arms of a police officer for as long as it took for me to climb from the hole. I didn’t turn to look at Beau, certain the expression on his face would kill me if I did.
Despite thinking the concept was ludicrous when Angel first suggested it, I had learned how much he cared for my daughter. It made it too easy to put myself in his shoes and imagine if things were different.
Decay (Phoebe Reede: The Untold #3.2 Declan Reede: The Untold Story #6) Page 14
