Bound By Shadows (The McAllister Justice Series Book 2)

by Reily Garrett

  Again, a parallel past underscored the warmth and easy alliance allowing her to accept help without feeling weak. He did understand. In slow strokes of his fingers kneading her shoulders then brushing down her spine, she felt the heady rush of a longing never experienced, a new assault on her battered senses. The extent of how his proximity and effortless charm affected her grew exponentially.

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that.” Her options included withdraw from his support and moving forward or becoming lost in the comfort of his presence.

  “My pleasure.” The rough timbre conveyed sincerity while his warm, spicy scent countered the dank atmosphere.

  Monumental effort afforded her two steps back and away from his warmth before forging ahead toward the nightmare she thought she wouldn’t survive. Still a distinct possibility if the bastards found her. Damp air grew mustier with each step. A darkened stain on the wall, probably her blood, reminded her to focus on the task while tiny fragments and details of her captivity fluttered across her mental landscape. The way the rock walls replaced brick in places, the abrasions of her fingers that would take time to heal, and the enveloping hopelessness that had surrounded her came rushing back.

  Sudden scurrying from a darkened branch off their path tightened Caden’s hand at her waist. Through that connection, she felt the shudders coursing through his body.

  “Damn I hate rats.” Revulsion hissed through Caden’s clenched jaw.

  At the same time, Matt stopped and turned to his younger sibling. “You all right?” He stood near the entrance to her room but focused on Caden.

  “Yeah, fine.” Telescopic, portable work lights illuminated the sweat beading Caden’s brow along with the room ahead. His upper body tightened, and his shoulders curled slightly while he avoided eye contact with his brother.

  “Here.” Matt thrust Damien’s leash at Lucas. “You and Caden take the dog out. I don’t want him fouling the crime scene. I’ll bring Kaylee out in a few minutes.”

  “No. I’ve got her.” The circling of Caden’s arm around her waist didn’t include pulling her closer this time, merely an increased show of solidarity. A fine tremor coursed up her back.

  “Come on, C. Let’s go. Matt’s got lead on the investigation.” Lucas’ hand on Caden’s shoulder pulled him back, more of a stumble-step than shuffling.

  An immediate coolness enveloped her body, the loss of consoling heat sending a sliver of dread spiraling through her psyche. Each heartbeat widened the distance between them.

  “I’ll be back in a minute, Kaylee.” Another round of squeaking from the dark and Caden’s face blanched. With his brother’s arm slung over Caden’s shoulder, their murmured words merged, their voices tangling in the tunnel’s echo. Lucas shifted Caden, urging him through the maze. Damien’s whine drifted back.

  Caden’s sudden spin and retching took her by surprise. She’d underestimated his revulsion at entering her concept of bedlam. His muted groan that followed encompassed a world of emotional pain.

  Furry experience. Rats are furry.

  She’d inadvertently brought him back into his own living torment.

  “He’ll be fine. Must’ve caught some kind of bug.” Matt directed her attention back to the crime scene.

  Everything looked different, from the way the lighting cast unwavering and implacable shadows across the floor to the feel of the environment. Present still, was the cold, clinical atmosphere of evil, its foundation etched in the clumps of bloody sand the crime scene techs scooped into evidence bags. To top that mountain of burden—the bastard had raped a woman whose likeness turned Caden milk white.

  “I heard two other male voices plus a female. One man had an accent, Asian, I think, but I’m not sure. The other was—different.” When she moved to step forward, Matt’s hand on her shoulder held her in check.

  “We can’t go in yet. Not until they’re finished.” To punctuate his words, the photographer’s flash near the far exit temporarily blinded her.

  “I see where the crates were laid. Mine was closest to that side.” She pointed to a place near the opposite wall. “The other woman was next to me.”

  “Clear fluid clumps,” one of the techs uttered apologetically as he glanced in her direction.

  “That’s where she was confined. She pleaded with me to open her cage.” Kaylee’s voice broke into a sob.

  “You had no choice. If you’d tried to free her, you’d still be with the kidnappers, and her plight wouldn’t have changed. At least now we have a starting point in our search.” Matt turned her to face him, the light hands on her upper arms lending little comfort.

  “A starting point, yes, but not for her.” By now, the battered woman probably considered her life over, if she still drew breath. Kaylee’s new start had brought nothing but pain to everyone her life touched.

  Worry over Caden’s sudden change in demeanor cast her glance backward. Such a strong personality—he’d feel humiliated over leaving the tunnel.

  “He’s fine, Kaylee. Really. Let’s focus on this then get you out of here.”

  “Okay. The other woman didn’t know how long she’d been down here, just that she’d been drugged and woke up in a dirty cage, just like me.” Once she started talking, words spewed forth in a clutter of disjointed sentences. “Do you think they’re bringing girls down here regularly for...?”

  “Don’t know, hon. We just don’t know yet.” Matt’s solemn murmur filled the tunnel. “You’re trembling. It’s time for us to scoot.” His voice roughened as if sensing her fear and rising panic.

  With gentle authority, he led her back through the tunnels, each step a reminder of how she’d abandoned a desperate woman who could end up dead—or worse—facing a life of rape and degradation.

  “We’ll find her, Kaylee. We’ll find her.” The cold edge of conviction couldn’t promise they’d find her alive.

  When they reached the mouth of the entrance, Matt helped her over the rocks and down to the sandy beach where his brothers waited. Caden avoided eye contact with her, instead choosing to ask Matt questions about the crime scene. Moonlight caught the slight flush of his cheeks, whether from embarrassment or frustration, she couldn’t tell. His ensuing silence seemed wrong somehow to a man she’d only seen as confident and easygoing.

  “You all right?” She’d witnessed PTSD’s devastating and abrupt symptoms in a college friend who’d survived sexual assault. Though the circumstances differed, some physical reactions remained the same. She wanted to be more direct but didn’t know Caden well enough to be so forward.

  “Yeah.” Small lines etched the corners of his mouth and eyes.

  The rats’ chatter had spooked him in the tunnels, visibly tightening his frame. Outside, its grip had loosened enough to allow normal breaths, but his grin hadn’t slid sideways and lacked his usual cockiness.

  Lucas shifted and blocked her sight line. “I’d forgotten how claustrophobic it is down there, Kaylee. Sorry to skip out on you, sweetheart. You holding up okay?” His gentle reassurance came with a consoling squeeze of her shoulders. “If you’re still a bit wired, we could go into town and get some coffee.”

  Caden’s growled response altered Lucas’ approach yet didn’t stop the arched brow or smirk. Matt’s chuckle and head shake confirmed her suspicion.

  “She’s gonna think we’re a damned pack of hound dogs.” Matt reclaimed Damien’s leash.

  “Hey, she’s an old neighbor moved back to town. Just wanted to catch up, that’s all.” Lucas’ wry grin belied his words.

  To listen to Caden’s brother cover for him reminded her of how Reese had distracted her father when she’d crossed paths with a large black snake. Her dad had smiled and twined the harmless reptile about his fingers. It always came back to the cohesiveness of family.

  “I don’t think I need coffee at this point.”

  The throb of her earlier headache morphed into an entire drumline auditioning snare, bass, and tenor drums with a side order of pit and mallet percussion
to reinforce the pain. It didn’t take a genius to know her discomfort would increase with the stress of going home alone. Recent events made a good case for a glass or three of wine.

  “C’mon Kaylee. I’ll take you home.” Caden shoulder-bumped Lucas aside before offering his hand. They easily fell into step, Caden’s grip a little tighter until they reached his SUV. When he slid into the driver’s seat, she watched him take his first easy breath since arrival. A long, quiet exhale seemed to relax his entire six-foot-three-inch frame.

  “I’m exhausted to the point of feeling punch drunk but don’t think I can sleep. Does that make sense?” She folded her hands in her lap to keep their shaking hidden.

  Apprehension over a surprise visit from the thugs would keep her awake until they were caught. Every settling groan of her house, the wind’s sigh under the eaves, even the quiet chiding of tires thrumming down her residential street would keep her in hyper-alert mode.

  “Yeah, sometimes the mind just won’t quit.” His commiseration appeared soul deep. “However—it does get better with time.”

  After her twin’s death, her dad cautioned her about layering on thickening shields of veiled defenses and closing herself off from the world. It wasn’t until spending countless hours alone in the foreboding tunnels contemplating the likelihood of death that she realized the depth of the shield she’d developed. Protecting the heart meant keeping everyone at arm’s length. A fact her ex-boyfriend had thrown in her face before walking out of her life.

  “Good night for playing solitaire or sitcom reruns.” She hadn’t taken the time to set up her DVR yet.

  “I’d ask you if you’d like to go get a drink, but that wouldn’t be a good idea with the remnants of drugs in your system. How about some decaf?”

  “Thanks, but I need to go home and process this mess. I should be able to settle a bit since it’s not like the creeps know where I live.” The sooner she faced her fears, the sooner she could move forward in her life.

  “True.” He looked like he wanted to say more but instead worried his lip between his teeth as if trying to keep from blurting some type of rebuttal.

  The smooth resonance of ensuing conversation detailed five boys’ adolescent years, antics rife with adventure, daring, and a camaraderie rivaling the tightest-knit family she’d ever met.

  A balm for a wounded spirit.

  It wasn’t the first time she longed for the simple affection of friendship, but the cost of baring her soul exacted a high tariff, a risk of reigniting the infatuation of years gone by.

  Since her name was stricken from statements issued to the press, anonymity cloaked her from investigative reporters, soon to be snooping for any tidbits, however ruthlessly obtained. Still, small details niggled at the back of her mind, not fully processed, masked by vestiges of drugs and stress. The hope of shaking them loose by returning to the scene had failed, allowing them to fester and cultivate a new harbinger of evil looming in her future.

  Chapter Six

  Kaylee followed Caden’s progress in checking each window, closet, and under the bed, before returning to the small foyer. The combination of open floor plan and tiny cottage shortened the task. The insecure part of her wanted him to stay, if for no other reason than having his comforting scent nearby to focus on throughout the night. Plan B included waiting for the nightmares to come, if sleep came, and appealed less by the minute.

  Exhaustion fogged her ambition and hindered her coordination, but her need to exercise control silenced any concerns becoming vocal.

  “All clear, Kaylee. We’re alone here.” As if just realizing the implications of his words, he narrowed his focus on her eyes, searching for signs of—fear? “The doc said you might have a concussion.” Concern and the warmth of friendship filled his gaze and softened his tone. He stood close, assessing, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a brotherly gesture.

  “It doesn’t look like anything’s been rifled through or moved.” Unable to reconcile the intended expression with the new warmth invading her chest, she padded to the kitchen counter and fingered her backup camera to refocus her attention. “I lost my favorite rig. My brother helped my parents pick it out last year.” She sighed then blinked quickly to stem the flow of tears.

  “How about we hang out for a bit.” Stepping close behind her, he smoothed his hands up and down her arms. “I watch a lot of late-night TV and could probably recite some of your favorite shows verbatim.”

  Pride kept her from leaning back into his strength and security, the promise of safety. She’d never been one to accept a crutch and wouldn’t start now.

  “Nah, I’m gonna take a long, hot shower then snuggle in a nice warm bed.” She wondered if fatigue would overwhelm her subconscious and prevent replaying the ordeal throughout the night.

  I doubt I’ll even lie down.

  “I expect you’ll have some nightmares.” His frown indicated a flip through his mental album of bad dreams. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieved a business card before extracting a phone from his jacket pocket. “Here, if you remember anything tonight or just want to talk, call me. Lately, I’m a light sleeper.”

  The unspoken, I know what you’re feeling, failed to break the thoughtful silence. As a man, he couldn’t understand a woman’s viewpoint of kidnapping and narrowly escaping rape. Yet he’d been a victim recently and still didn’t hesitate to reach out to help others. That character trait shot him into the category of phenomenal friend material. Unfortunately, her body seemed to have different ideas since his presence revitalized the underused section of her brain containing her libido.

  “Thanks. What’s the number on the back?”

  “Oh, um, it’s the number to the rape crisis center.” Settling his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to meet his gaze with a solemnness born of concern. “I know he didn’t succeed, but you knew his intentions. That alone is worth a few nightmares. You can call them or talk to me. Either way, you’ll need to talk about it with somebody at some point.”

  Memory of the other victim’s bruised and bloody face derailed her concentration; the halting words, unarticulated terror, and helplessness encompassing a woman who’d experienced too much to cope.

  Though Caden had a five-year advantage in dealing with life’s peaks and troughs, his demeanor spoke of a wisdom surpassing his age.

  “Thanks. I’ll sleep on it.”

  Cupping her cheek in one large palm again reminded her of something Reese would do when he’d wanted to ensure she’d listen. “Lock the door when I leave, and I’ll call you tomorrow. Try to get some rest. Your gaze looks a little fuzzy.”

  “My teeth feel a little fuzzy. I think they’ve grown a winter’s coat since the last time I brushed.”

  Discharge instructions had advised keeping her stitches dry for the first forty-eight hours. Yeah, right. If that bastard didn’t best me, no infection will. Dedication to ridding herself of caked blood took precedence over caution.

  For the second time in her life, fate had clubbed her between the eyes, changing her in some fundamental way. Yet in the bathroom mirror, no visual evidence presented itself to her trained eye.

  Each piece of clothing removed uncovered more scrapes and bruises. Her father would call them badges of courage. Her ex would point out her cowardice over leaving another behind. An inner voice whispered, you survived.

  Pain stabbed her fingers when she tried to remove her book-locket necklace containing the flash drive. The jewelry had been a present from her parents on obtaining her bachelor’s degree last year. They’d been so proud of her success. Reese had delighted in revealing the hidden compartment, sized for a backup flash.

  Minor injuries like the one on her scalp would heal. The deeper wounds etched in her subconscious would hover with the rest among the darker wavelengths of self-recriminations until erupting at inopportune moments, like during her dash through the woods. A mental flash of Reese referencing her lack of grace during a hike had temporarily calmed her panic
.

  Her older brother by twelve minutes had always known what to say to ease her tension. Her mom promised that one day she’d form another close connection if she kept her heart open. The fragile bond with Caden intended as friendship was born of separate but equal circumstances and something she’d heartily accept. Maybe that’s what her mom had meant.

  Warm water stung her forehead and sluiced down her body to wash away the dirt, blood, and horrid images of how she’d become embroiled in abductions and failed rescue attempts. Rejuvenation during the simple pleasure strengthened her resolve even as the blood-caked dirt trickled down the drain. She hadn’t realized it had turned cold until her body shivered.

  Comfort came in the form of the thick terry cloth robe covering the tank top and boy shorts she normally wore as sleepwear. Contradicting the re-emerging sense of self was the chill invading her bones, the same penetrating bleakness endured in the tunnel.

  The kidnapper had her keys, yet no identifying markings would lead him to her bed. Tomorrow would be a long day of canceling her credit card, obtaining a new driver’s license, cell phone, and lock for each door. The older landlords were on holiday for the next two months but surely wouldn’t mind the upgrade.

  When she called her parents, they’d panic and insist she return home, which she’d refuse while assuring them of taking proper precautions. She’d expect a visit from her dad as soon as he recovered from the bout of pneumonia. Meanwhile, he’d make frequent calls to the officer leading the investigation.

  Poor Matt.

  Even the shuffle of her footsteps to the kitchen intimated a foolhardy campaign for independence that ended with her alone and wary. Per routine, she steeled herself for the long night ahead. Her best thinking generally occurred amid the white noise of television and conversations with Reese, something she’d never again enjoy.

  Hot cocoa provided aromatherapy and warmed her hands while she sat on the sofa in silent contemplation. Despite the weariness, anxiety tightened the hold on her mug. If only she could extract some fractional detail, a small thread Caden and Matt could unravel that would lead to her kidnappers. That elusive fiber circled yet stayed one step ahead of her sievelike grasp.