Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3

by Trisha Wolfe

  “What’s coming from your phone?” My adrenaline is still pumping, my limbs quaking as the sudden concern for Sadie overtakes my need to pulverize Carson.

  He shakes his head. “It’s a video. I don’t know—” He squints at the screen, his eye already starting to swell. “Shit. It’s a video of Avery.”

  I get to my feet and stand behind Carson, my brother and this whole fucked-up room forgotten when I see the scene playing out on the screen. My stomach bottoms out.

  Last night, Sadie whispered her secrets to me in the dark. In my arms, safe and sheltered, she told me about the physical dungeon that held her captive for days when she was young. About the man who stole her childhood. Who abducted and tortured her—the reason she fears chains, and touch…and herself.

  She bared that secret in such descriptive detail, as if she was reliving every second. She trusted me so implicitly, that I listened—sick with fury—as she uncoiled every detail from her memory. I listened, unable not to see her words through my own eyes.

  Now, looking at Carson’s phone, it’s as if I’m watching her memories play out. Hearing her pain all over again in surround sound as Avery’s screams bleed from the speakers.

  The woman on the screen—Avery—is dressed in a pink tank top. Just like Sadie wore all those years ago. Her legs are naked and battered. Just the way Sadie was found. Even Avery’s hair is the same shade as Sadie’s dark tresses.

  And the cane connecting with Avery’s back…

  I shut my eyes against the image.

  It’s nothing like what Sadie and I shared last night, as I endeavored to drive her demons away, giving her a piece of me and accepting her in turn. This is something evil. Vile. Pure and sinister. The abuse Avery’s suffering in that video is just that. Abuse. And her captor is the only one receiving.

  I hear Carson scramble to stand. “Jesus Christ. Is this being sent to everyone?”

  And like that, my eyes fly open and I’m grabbing the device out of his hand.

  The fight still hasn’t left him, and he takes a wild swing, but I block his arm. “We’re done!” I shout.

  “That’s fucking evidence! And it’s mine,” he says.

  I know it’s wrong…but I can’t stomach the thought of Carson watching. I know what the UNSUB is recreating with this video. The scene he’s methodically orchestrated to depict Sadie’s torture. Having Carson witness something this personal to her…watching a moment in time when she was so vulnerable…

  I squeeze the phone until I hear a crack.

  Bringing myself back to my senses, I release the device. “Here,” I say, shoving it against Carson’s chest. “Find out if everyone in the department saw that, or if it was just us.”

  But truthfully, I already know the answer. That scene was staged just for Sadie, whether or not the UNSUB meant for it to get to me, he wanted her to witness his act. I know she watched it. I can damn near feel her fear traveling right to me, this second. I whip out my phone and hit her number. Desperate, needing to hear her voice.

  It goes to a generic voicemail recording.

  “Fuck!”

  Carson looks at me, then at my dead brother. “Shit, man. You’re having a bad day.”

  It should sound as smug as his face—but I can actually hear empathy in his voice.

  Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I look down at the floor. “Stay if you want, but I have somewhere to be.”

  Sadie’s promise won’t mean shit after this video.

  But I’m keeping mine.

  I take off down the stairs, hating myself for ever letting her out of my sight.

  9

  Trace

  Sadie

  Everyone has a cherished object that transforms them. Changes them—even if just for a moment—into something else.

  It could be a new pair of jeans. A fit so damn sexy it makes you put a little more swing in your hips. A cherry-red convertible so panty-dropping hot, it gives you a boost of confidence and the sex drive to match.

  Whatever your poison, there’s an object to get you there. It’s a psychological phenomena that offers a perception of invincibility. Without it, we may never work up the courage to ask that certain someone out. Or demand that raise we know we deserve.

  Those are all very obvious examples of lives that have never rocked on the edge—that have never been submerged in darkness. Devoured by its cruelty. But what about those of us who have? What do we deem necessary to transport us?

  There’s an object that I valued. One that I used to wear to transform myself. Or more accurately—reveal a hidden side. That person only surfaced when my demons raged, and I needed to unleash the monster within to quiet them.

  When I lost that object, however, I thought it was a sign. Perhaps it was time to try a different way to sate my inner demons. Discover a new, safer path where I didn’t have to loathe myself.

  As I watch the tiny screen, hearing the shriek of absolute suffering, the scene playing out should mortify me. All that pain…all that anguish…should bombard me and make it impossible to discern any one signifying object in the dungeon.

  But my eyes zero in on that small, revealing piece.

  Hanging around Avery’s neck, it’s the only thing out of place in the scene. It doesn’t belong. I didn’t own the trinket when I was abducted at sixteen. It’s what he wants me to see. I’m the only one who can recognize the flaw.

  He hasn’t wanted me all this time. No, he’s been trying to bring her back. The woman who slipped that necklace on as if she was slipping into a second skin. Who caressed the crest of the Blood Countess as she prowled the edge of the night.

  The monster I tried to bury.

  “Sadie.” Quinn’s voice draws me out of my troubled thoughts. I glance up from my phone as he steals it from my hands. “Watching it again won’t help. You’re just torturing yourself.”

  He’s right, of course. Watching Avery suffer the same torture I endured all those years ago will do nothing to help her. But it does help me cope with what I have to do next.

  “I know it’s difficult,” he continues. “But it’s at least proof that she’s still alive. We still have time to find her.”

  I push the heels of my hands into my eyes, as if I can scrub away the images seared into my retinas. “I know, Quinn. Trust me…I’m just tired of sitting idle.”

  A doctor appears from around the corner and Quinn stands to meet her. “Is she awake?”

  The doctor purses her lips disapprovingly. “She is. But I have to insist that you make this quick, detective. Though her vocal chords weren’t damaged to the extent we first thought, she’s suffered severely and is under heavy pain medication. She needs rest to recover.”

  Quinn nods. “Thank you. We appreciate your help.”

  He hands me back my phone as the doctor leads us into Carmen’s hospital room. A plastic breathing apparatus covers the lab tech’s mouth, and a loud beeping emits from a machine beside her bed.

  The doctor draws the curtain, giving us some privacy as the nurses continue to monitor her condition.

  “Carmen,” Quinn says, his notepad drawn and pen at the ready, just like the good detective he is. “I’m Detective Quinn. This is Agent Bonds. We need your help to catch the person responsible for your attack. Are you able to do that?”

  Weakly, her eyes blink open and she nods against the pillow.

  “That’s great. Do you recall what the offender looked like?”

  She shakes her head.

  He frowns. “That’s okay. Was it because he knocked you unconscious? Do you remember the attack?”

  She shakes her head again. Then slowly lifts her hand and points to her face. When Quinn only stares, she blinks a few times and waves her hand over her face.

  “He wore a mask,” I offer.

  She nods.

  “What about height? Build?” Quinn asks.

  After a hard swallow that looks painful, she pushes the breathing apparatus aside and whispers, “Tall. Maybe just under s
ix feet. Skinny.”

  Quinn jots down the note. “Hair color?”

  “I don’t know…maybe dark brown. Average. Short.”

  “That’s good, Carmen. Thank you.” With noticeable effort, Quinn prepares to ask her the tougher questions. The ones we’re really here for. “Carmen, did he say anything to you?”

  She blinks. Shakes her head.

  I lay my hand on her arm, and she looks into my eyes. “Carmen. You’re not in trouble for anything. Nothing you tell us will incriminate you. You’re a victim. But Avery really needs your help. Anything you can tell us at all about your attacker or why you think he targeted you might save her life.”

  Her hand trembles as she pulls it away to wipe a tear streak from her cheek. She breathes slowly for a few seconds, then, “Avery found something on one of the ropes. I was the only one in the lab that night…with her. When I heard about what happened to her…I got scared. That’s why I didn’t come in today.”

  Quinn smiles down at her. “It’s okay. Like Sadie said, you’re not in trouble, and I know this has been terrifying, but you’re safe now. We just need to know if Avery took a sample. Did she do anything that night—?”

  “She did,” Carmen cuts in. “Right before I left. She logged the discovery and then took a sample to send off.” She closes her eyes. “She gave it to me to put in outgoing forensics.” Her eyes open. “I don’t think…” She breaks off. “I don’t think, at least I don’t know, if she noted that before…”

  “It’s okay,” I say, giving her hand a comforting pulse. “You’ve given us a lot to go on.”

  She nods. “If I had any idea at all what would’ve happened, I never would’ve left—”

  “You did the right thing, Carmen,” Quinn says. “Avery gave you a directive and you followed it.”

  We leave Carmen as she begins to drift from the pain medication.

  As we reach the parking lot, Quinn says, “Any chance we can intercept that sample before it reaches forensics?”

  “Doubtful. But evidence stays on backlog there. Unless Avery put an urgent status on it to have the sample pushed ahead, then it’s safe to assume it’s just sitting there.”

  “But she knows how important that finding is,” Quinn offers.

  I shake my head, thinking. “But she also knows the profile. If she realized that the offender could be someone within the system, then she wouldn’t call attention to it. That’s why she didn’t log sending out the sample. It has to be.” I look at Quinn. “She wanted a backup.”

  He runs a hand down his face, looking agitated. “Then we can’t call attention to it, either.”

  I’m putting a lot of faith in Avery—but she’s never let me down before.

  As I reach Quinn’s car, I say, “Carmen doesn’t strike me as the one who’s been leaking to the press.”

  “No,” he says, unlocking the Crown Vic with the keyless entry. “She comes across as a very frightened lab tech.”

  “Trust your gut,” I say, repeating Avery’s message to me. “My gut’s telling me to have the sample tested in-house. Do we have any lab techs that we trust as much as Avery?”

  Quinn stares up at the sky, shuts his eyes. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket. “Kyle, get in touch with Agent Proctor and have a team assembled and ready for a UC operation. I’m on my way.” A beat. “I don’t care if Proctor will take issue. Get his ass there now.” He cuts the call off.

  “What are you planning?” I ask as he ducks into the car. I open my door and drop onto my seat. “Quinn? Talk to me. I need to know whatever is going through your head.”

  He cranks the engine. “Even if we recover the sample and test it ourselves, and even if the UNSUB’s DNA is in the database, it’s going to take hours to match.”

  “Not if we limit the scope of the search to people within the department.”

  “Still, we’re taking a huge gamble on recovering the sample and matching it before the UNSUB knows what we’re up to.” He glances at me before he steers onto the main road. “We’re only slightly ahead right now because there’s a possibility that the UNSUB doesn’t know about the sample.”

  I catch on. “But when we run it through CODIS, he will.”

  “But what if we draw him out and away from Avery first? Keep him preoccupied while we run the search. Just long enough to find a match and try to narrow down his location.”

  There’s only one way to do that. “You want to use me as bait.”

  I see Quinn’s face flush from my peripheral. “No. Absolutely not.”

  But he’s already given himself away. I know when Quinn’s trying to lie to me. “It’s fine, Quinn. That was my initial tactic, if you recall.”

  He huffs out a long breath. “I’m not putting you in danger, Sadie. I promise you that. But we might actually be able to put the Feds to good use. They’re already covering The Lair.”

  I shake my head. “The last sting you set up at the club went badly. The UNSUB won’t fall for it.” A sick feeling rocks my stomach. “And what if he’s not in any database? We’re taking more than a gamble…we’ll be risking Avery’s life if this fails.”

  Quinn takes a right into the station. “Then we won’t fail. Whether or not that sample pans out, you said you could get inside the UNSUB’s head.” He sends me a serious look. “Avery’s running out of time.”

  The pressure that’s been mounting all day boils over.

  Yes, I can get inside the UNSUB’s head. I can think on his level. I’ve done it before…but I’m not sure if I can pull myself back out this time. It’s a gamble on myself, too.

  I swore to Colton that I wouldn’t risk myself—that I wouldn’t lose any part of me to the UNSUB. I have to keep that promise for more than his sake.

  I flip my phone around and open the video. A still image of Avery shackled in chains displays on the screen. Her once shimmery blond hair is muted in tones of dull brown. Her eyes lifeless as she tries to separate herself from the weak woman being broken.

  I know that struggle; I was successful at it. During my abduction, I achieved the ability to splinter my world. Becoming one girl who refused to be broken, who fought her captor to maintain her sanity…and another who crumbled, accepting her punishment.

  My captor taught me so much; he was my mentor.

  Remember your lessons…

  His voice is the lurking demon in my mind.

  Closing the video, I turn toward Quinn. “If we do this, it’s my way. You want me to get inside his head and draw him out…fine. But don’t question my methods. You or the Feds can’t interfere.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” As Quinn parks, his hands stay gripped around the steering wheel, his gaze staring through the windshield. “Would this be happening if I’d listened to you two years ago about Connelly?”

  A wave of guilt crashes over me. “We’re all culpable, Quinn. I could’ve tried harder, presented more evidence…and you could’ve been a little less stubborn and pig-headed.”

  He lets a laugh slip. “Pig? Really? Going right for the cop jokes.”

  I shrug. “Even if we’d caught Connelly back then, there’s no certainty that he would’ve given up his apprentice.”

  He looks at me then. “But there was a chance.”

  I hold his gaze. “There’s still a chance.”

  His mouth parts, but then he presses his lips into a hard line. He tries to voice his thoughts again as he averts his gaze from mine. “About Connelly…”

  I grab the door handle. “Do you really want to go there now? There’s no going back once we cross that line, Quinn. And we still have a lot to do before then.”

  He nods solemnly. “You’re right,” he says, meeting my eyes. “And even then, I’m not sure I want to know.”

  That truth resonates in the small span of space between us, thickening the air into a solid barrier.

  I pull the handle and get out.

  10

  Preparation

  Colton

  The gr
een dot on my phone propels me on, my feet devouring the distance between me and Sadie. I head down a hallway of the ACPD building, taking a right up a flight of stairs to the third level.

  “I broke protocol by not reporting Julian’s murder to Quinn right away,” Carson says from behind. “Don’t think he’s going to tolerate paranoia as an acceptable explanation.”

  “The UNSUB is able to hack into your department and send videos to your phones,” I say, not slowing my pace. “It’s not paranoia. It’s taking the offensive.”

  “Still means an ass of paperwork for me.”

  My destination blinks on the screen, and I stand paused at the door, my hand gripping the doorknob. “After the grief you gave my brother, I hardly think a little paperwork is punishment enough.”

  I turn the knob and step into the room. When my eyes find Sadie, the tension that’s been gathering inside me since I first saw that video dissolves. My shoulders loosen a little more with each step closer to her.

  Her gaze lifts from the table where her, Quinn, and a few other people stand around. She must see the anxiety still clinging to me because she doesn’t say anything, just leaves the table to meet me in the middle of the room.

  “What’s wrong? Oh, my God. What happened to your face?” She touches the tender bruise along my jaw.

  Pulling away from her touch is the last thing I want to do, but I’m eager to get her away from the others. “Let’s leave here. Just for a little while.”

  Her eyebrows draw together. The urge to run my thumb down the crease thrums through me, wanting to smooth away all the worry from her face.

  At her nod, I grasp her hand and lead her into the hallway, where I can’t suppress my need any longer. I pull her into my arms. Bury my face in her hair. “I got in to it with Carson.”

  She releases a small laugh. “Well, from the looks of his face, you got the better of him.”