Bound (The Devil's Due Book 3)

by Eva Charles

  Josh comes in while I’m working. “Let me do that,” he says gruffly, taking the instrument out of my hands. “There must be something else you can do.”

  The door creaks again. It’s Chase. “Anything?” he asks.

  “Not yet.” It’s a double-edged sword. If we find something, it’s not likely to be good news. But if we find nothing, it doesn’t get us any closer to discovering what happened to her.

  Chase sets up his equipment on the kitchen table, then methodically sweeps each room for listening devices and cameras. When he gets to the bedroom, he stops short in front of the television. After a few seconds, he heads to a utility closet off the kitchen where the fuse box is located.

  “What did you find?” He meets my eyes, shaking his head, and motions for me to follow him back into the bedroom. When we’re there, he unplugs the television from the wall.

  “This is a smart TV,” he says. “It can be hacked into and used as a spy tool. They watch you right here, through the camera. The microphone carries back, too. A hacker can get into the system and access bank accounts, anything, really.”

  It was right in front of my goddamn eyes the entire time, and I didn’t see it. “How did I not know this?”

  He shrugs. “There’s been chatter since the TVs first came out. But the FBI just started talking publicly about it sometime around Thanksgiving.”

  “That was eight months ago.”

  He shrugs. “You’re not a tech guy, so you don’t think like us. You’ve become a big picture guy, but basically, you’re a grunt with mad skills.”

  “The priest. The fucking priest.”

  “What priest?” he asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “This weird priest gave her the TV.”

  “All priests are weird, if you ask me. But don’t jump to conclusions. Usually hackers get in using the serial numbers and passwords that come with the system. People don’t understand the importance of changing passwords on their computers, let alone on a TV. You don’t need high-level skills. It’s not like infiltrating the president’s calendar, but you have to have some idea of what you’re doing.”

  I know that fucking priest is involved. First the cat, and now the TV. Both gifts from him.

  I don’t buy it’s a coincidence. But what now? Should I go over to the church and lean on his carotid artery until he talks, or do I sit on the information until we have a timeline?

  Even if he’s involved, he’s probably not the ringleader. But whoever is pulling the strings is not playing. If I show up at the church, I’m likely to tip someone off. I’m not ready to do that yet. I’m going to have to trust Delilah.

  “I turned off the Wi-Fi,” Chase says. “This way we don’t need to worry that someone is watching us. Did you ever log onto any of your devices using her Wi-Fi?”

  “No. I never use someone else’s internet.” I’m stupid, but not that stupid.

  “I’m going to stay here for a little while,” Chase says, “see what I can find.”

  “Josh will stay here with you. Meet me back at the security office when you’re done. Don’t forget about her phone and car. Those might be our best clues.”

  By the time Chase and Josh get back to the security office, we’ve put together a timeline, but it has holes. Huge gaping holes. My guys are working on piecing together her movements using footage from cameras across the city, but that takes time. Too damn much time.

  “She didn’t send the photo to the paper,” is the first thing Chase says, entering the conference room. His eyes dart from Lucinda McCrae to me.

  I nod at him. “Say what you gotta say.”

  “Someone was using the TV to spy on her. They hacked into the system and got into her Wi-Fi, including everything she had stored in the cloud. They had access to it all. Her bank accounts, everything. I was able to do some forensics using her backup device. They did leave prints everywhere, but they weren’t readily traceable. It was somebody who knew what they were doing. It’s going to take some time.” The one thing we don’t have.

  “Tell me more about the gardener,” I say to Delilah, who has already confirmed she got a hinky feeling from both the priest and Virginia.

  “His name is Silas Drury. He has a record. Spent ten years in jail for rape. It appears he’s stayed out of trouble since. But I’m not done looking at him.”

  “Don’t go too far down the rabbit hole. It was statutory rape,” JD says. “Underage girlfriend. Rumor has it that it was consensual.”

  “The youngest Beaufort girl,” Lucinda pipes in. “There was only three years between the two. Her daddy hated him. Their families traveled in different circles. But no matter what he did to keep them apart, they always managed to be together. The day Silas turned eighteen, they were caught in the act and her daddy had him arrested. There was a set-up, a quick trial, an inexperienced court-appointed lawyer, and a judge who belonged to the same society as the Beauforts.”

  “Where does he live?” I ask.

  “North Charleston with his girlfriend,” Lucinda answers. “I think his official residence is on Albert’s Island, but he stays with his girlfriend.”

  “Get an address,” I instruct Delilah. “Miss McCrae, how do you know this?”

  “There is very little that I don’t know about Charleston. Lived here all my life. I volunteer where I can, and work at the library,” she adds, like the library is the font for all information. What she failed to say is she’s a busybody.

  “What about Father Jesse Creighton?” I ask. “What do you know about him?”

  She purses her lips. “Albert’s Island isn’t exactly Charleston. But he’s been here about ten years. Comes into the library with cards for us to give to the homeless women. His secretary has a boy who was born with some mental limitations.” She shrugs. “That’s all I know. I don’t get too close to preachers.”

  “Got the address. The house belongs to Melinda Beaufort,” Delilah says. “Does that sound right, Miss McCrae?”

  Lucinda nods. “That’s right. Let that be a lesson to all you daddies.” She doesn’t spare JD a glance, but that comment was aimed at him.

  I nod at Delilah. “Meet me in the Jeep.”

  “Chase, reconnect the Wi-Fi and the TV at Kate’s. Take two of my guys with you. Give whoever might be watching a show, so they think we’re looking for her because of something related to the photo—make it up—let them believe we’re giving up our search, because it appears she’s left town, and it’s not worth our time to chase her.

  Before I leave, I pull JD into my office. “What do you need?” he asks before I can say anything.

  “Another favor you’re not going to like.”

  “Name it.”

  “I trust Lucinda McCrae—to an extent. Make sure she doesn’t leave Sweetgrass or use the phone. Delilah took her cell phone to be on the safe side.”

  “Does Lucinda know Delilah has it?”

  “No.” JD’s lips twitch.

  “We’ll take her over to the main house. That’ll keep her busy. Don’t give her a second thought.”

  This is the way it’s always been with JD and me. We rarely apologize with words. We apologize by standing up when the other needs something. Doesn’t matter how big or small.

  “You’re going to find her,” he says, with a hand on my shoulder.

  “You bet your ass. And when I do, I’m bringing her here.”

  “Wouldn’t expect anything different.”

  When we get to Silas’s house, before I break in the front door, Delilah gives me a stern warning. “We need Silas alive until we find her. You can kill him later,” she calls over her shoulder, heading to the back of the house, where she grabs him by the throat when he opens the backdoor to sneak out. While he begs for his life, she drags him inside with a gun barrel against his head.

  Prison breeds two kinds of men. Those who assimilate, thrive in the structure, and don’t mind going back. And those who will do anything in their power to never go back. My b
et is that Silas falls into the latter camp.

  We’ve got to make him believe the alternative to telling us the truth is far worse than any prison.

  “Have you ever seen this woman?” I ask, holding up an image of Kate from my phone. My foot is on his chest in an encouraging gesture.

  “No.”

  Delilah reaches over and grabs his testicles. “I’m going cut off your balls one at time and shove them down your throat, before I scatter your itty-bitty brains all over this pretty rug.” The stench of his bowels emptying tells me he doesn’t want to die.

  “Y-Yes,” he stutters, sweat dripping off his face.

  “Where?”

  “The rectory. St. Maggie’s.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  He doesn’t say anything. “When?” I bark my heel grinding into his chest.

  “Last week.”

  Delilah pulls out a knife and runs the point over his crotch. “We don’t have time for starts and fits. Tell us everything you know, and be quick about it,” she says, scraping the blade over his balls.

  “They have her. Not sure where they keep them when they’re alive.”

  “Who is them?” I interrupt.

  “The women. Buried in the back in the old well after St. Magdalene’s Feast.

  You have got to be fucking kidding me. “When is that?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Who kidnaps and kills women?”

  “Not sure,” he coughs, and I grind into his chest harder. “I think just—the priest and Virginia. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Any weapons at the church?”

  “Never seen any,” he grunts.

  “Have you ever talked to the police about the dead women?”

  He looks up at me. “Who would believe me? An ex-con. They’d blame it all on me. I never saw them do it.”

  I reach down and compress the artery in his throat. “Not yet,” Delilah warns. “We might still need him.” I don’t kill him, but I squeeze while he teeters on consciousness.

  “Call Ty,” I tell her. “Get him over here and have him bring another guy with him.” I stand up and shove my boot into Silas’ ribs. “When they get here, you will give them any information you have about the layout of the church.”

  “Let’s tie up this bastard so we can get out of here.”

  While we conducted the interrogation, I was in full commando mode. Not one emotion interfered with the mission. But in the car on the way back to the office, I’m struggling mightily.

  She might be dead before we get to her. And if she’s not, she will be soon. My mind goes to all the awful places. The things they could do to her until all I see is her face—contorted in pain.

  “Don’t,” Delilah admonishes, without a trace of empathy. “Wherever your head is, get it the hell out. There’s no time for licking your wounds. She’s just another hostage. We have a rescue to plan, soldier, and no time for dicking around. Man the fuck up.”

  Her words are jarring. The years of training, of developing mental toughness and laser focus, flood in with a force that won’t let up until I tell it to stand down. And I won’t do that until the rescue is complete.

  46

  Smith

  When Delilah and I get back to office, the Wilder brothers are all there, along with my entire security team not on duty elsewhere. Even those who are off. The show of support almost dredges up emotion I can’t afford.

  “Where’s Lucinda?” I ask JD.

  “With Gabrielle and Lally. They know the score.” God help her if she steps out of line. “She’s staying the night,” he continues. “They have her so busy, she hasn’t looked for her phone.”

  “Did someone contact the police?” Gray asks.

  “No,” I say pointedly. “We have no idea what involvement, if any, the police have in this. Judge King has always been a law and order guy. The cops love him.” They sat on the missing person’s report. They don’t get any more chances.

  “Delilah.” She looks up from her laptop. “Vests, night-vision goggles, a scope—”

  “I know what we need,” she says, out the door before I finish.

  “You’re going in tonight?” Gray asks.

  I don’t have time for twenty questions from someone who is as useless as tits on a boar hog. But I’m sure he means well.

  “No choice. This might be connected to the Feast of St. Magdalene, which is tomorrow.”

  “Connected how?”

  Why can’t he just shut his damn trap? “No fucking clue.”

  “I made a few good friends at the FBI while DW was president,” Gray says, watching me carefully. “We’ve stayed in touch. I can call in a favor.”

  “Not yet. I’m not sure how far up the food chain this goes. I want to be on the scene before any cowboy gets there.”

  “All set,” Delilah says, coming back into the office.

  “Chase, I need you to draw a perimeter and text me the coordinates. Have one of my guys help you. And see if there’s any way to get a visual inside the church or the rectory. Ty is with the gardener, if you need additional information on the layout.”

  “Anything else?” Chase asks, his nose already in the computer.

  “One more thing. We need to go in through the main road—it’s our best bet tonight. I want to know how close we can get the vehicle without being seen. We’ll hike the rest.”

  “Who you taking with you?”

  “Small team. We’ll secure the perimeter, and Josh will man it unless you tell me it’s too big for one guy. There’s water on three sides, so I don’t see containment as an issue. Delilah will go in with me.”

  “No.”

  Delilah whips her head around, following Gray’s booming voice in the corner.

  “You have no idea what you’re going to find when you get inside,” Gray says through gritted teeth. “You’re working off thin information. It’s too risky. Not to mention it’s a fucking church, Smith. She can’t afford another scandal.”

  “No?” Delilah repeats incredulously, walking straight up to him. “You haven’t earned the right to tell me no, pretty boy.” She might have a sweet voice, but she’s not using it now. The room is deadly quiet, mouths hanging open, eyes trained on the pair.

  “Hey, asshole,” I bark at Gray. “I need her with her head on tight. When this is all over, you two can rip off your clothes and have at it. But not until Kate’s back.” I turn to Delilah, “Are you in or not?”

  “I’m in,” she snaps. “Don’t ask again.”

  “Hey.” JD steps closer, so only I can hear. “I know my way around a gun.”

  “I’m well aware, and I appreciate it. But I need you here.” He nods. “I also appreciate that you went behind my back and paid extra for those goggles and the heat-seeking devices. We’ll need them tonight.”

  “Call if you run into anything unexpected,” he says, ignoring the last part of what I just told him. “Antoine is keeping me company until we hear something.” Antoine is a former Marine and JD’s driver. He’s a good person to have on the premises tonight in the event of trouble.

  I glance at Gray on the way out. “Give us a thirty-minute lead, then make the call.”

  47

  Kate

  Virginia spent the afternoon purifying me. She scrubbed my skin raw, administered a douche and an enema. The degradation was unspeakable, but I didn’t say a single word while she worked. All I could think about was the beating she endured earlier because of me.

  I’m given salty broth for dinner. I suspect it’s laced with something sinister, but I am so dehydrated from all the cleansing, I drink most of it anyway.

  There’s something afoot. I felt it all day, but when the priest and Virginia come for me, I know my instincts were right.

  Virginia takes my nightgown, and dresses me in a hooded cloak that reaches mid-calf. I am leashed by one ankle, my hands restrained behind my back. Otherwise, the chains are gone.

  “Where are we goin
g?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to know.

  “It’s the eve of your birthday, Magdalene,” Father Jesse responds from the doorway. He gives me a ghastly smile. “We have rituals to perform and the altar to prepare.”

  They lead me down the turret stairs, out through the back of the rectory, and into the church through the sacristy. In the sacristy, the leash is attached to a wardrobe door while Father Jesse puts on white vestments. Virginia takes the cape from my shoulders and hangs it in the closet.

  When the priest is done dressing, he turns his attention to me. His eyes slither over every inch of my skin while he oohs and ahhs. It’s vile and degrading, and my mind begins to turn itself off. A trick it’s learned since I’ve been here.

  “Magdalene, you’re not like the other women. You’re heavenly with your creamy pale skin and red hair. The others were imposters meant to tempt me, but you are a gift from my Father. I will not sacrifice you.”

  “You must,” Virginia cries frantically.

  “Gigi,” he tips her chin so that she looks at him. “Jealousy is a grave sin, punishable by God.”

  “I’m sorry, Master. I want to be your special kitten forever.”

  “Jesus,” he admonishes. “We’re in the sacristy.”

  “Jesus,” she repeats. The back and forth is too much for my brain to process. The drugs must be taking effect.

  “You’ll always be my pet. But Magdalene will be my bride.” He steps away from her. “Let’s begin the ritual.”

  I am taken, naked, into the sanctuary. I glance up at the cross. The bitterness of betrayal fills my soul as I stare into Christ’s face.

  “Light the censor,” the priest instructs Virginia, “and bring it to me.”

  I stand idly, my mind refusing to rouse itself.

  Father Jesse takes the censor, shaking it while he walks around the altar, chanting a Latin prayer. The frankincense and myrrh curl around us. It’s trancelike and strangely calming.