Jesus, this place really is a piece of shit.
I look around, trying to spot the man I saw outside. My eyes scan over black tables filled with women who are too old to wear so little clothing. A few guys play pool on the other end and a couple dances near the stage. There’s a dartboard that’s been stabbed over a thousand times. In the back, paint peels from the walls, and I spot a bucket near the bathroom catching the drip from the ceiling.
Bingo.
There he sits, enjoying a smoke with one foot propped on the bar of the stool. I move past the tables and pick an empty seat a good distance away from him. The bartender walks up to me.
“What’ll you have?”
“Water,” I say, knowing I need to keep my head straight here.
“This is a bar, honey, not a fucking waterhole. What’ll you have?”
I narrow my eyes at the woman who’s twice my size. She wears a black T-shirt that says fuck you on it. Her voice sounds like she’s smoked since she came out of her mother’s vagina.
“A beer then,” I say, even-toned. “Whatever you’ve got.” She nods before reaching down in the cooler and pulling out a Miller Light. She sets it in front of me, not even bothering to open it.
But what did I except? I lean up and slide my hand into my pocket, pulling out some cash before tossing it over to her side. She grabs it and walks back over to her smoke that sits in an ashtray. My eyes look to the man sitting at the bar. He’s older, his skin tan from being outside.
He doesn’t look like the man I remember from the street now that I think about it. I reach for my beer, twisting the top off as little pieces of ice slide down the side.
I bring it to my lips, and then my skin tingles. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my hand starts to tremor when my eyes focus on the far right corner of the bar. A man stands up from the chair he was sitting in. He walks slowly to the bar, resting his hand on top. My eyes look at black and red ink and I know.
It’s him.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Jace
I slam my hand down on the steering wheel. “Fuck!” I yell as I turn into a gas station and pull around. I spin tires as I exit the parking lot, heading north to Murfreesboro, Tennessee. What the hell is she doing going by herself?
Where’s Monroe?
I don’t have his number, but I look him up on social media. One hand on the wheel, my eyes darting from the road to my phone, I shoot him a message. It’s raining now, coming down in soft sheets, distorting the lights and making the roads slick.
My phone starts to ring after I see that he’s seen the message.
“What the hell?” I say, picking up the phone. “What is she doing?”
“She isn’t thinking clearly, Jace.”
“Well, I’m headed there,” I tell him.
“You shouldn’t be doing that. You need to leave it up to us.”
“Fuck that.” He thinks I’m just going to go home and sit around while my girl chases a lunatic?
I hear him exhale and keys jingle. “I’m leaving the house now,” he says. “I know exactly where she’s going. I called our computer guy, assuming she called him after she got the email. He gave me the address of where she thinks this fucker is.”
“Good. She’s not answering her phone. It’s going to voicemail.”
“It’s probably dead. She doesn’t have a charger in that car. I’ve been telling her to get one for weeks now,” he says. “I spoke with her earlier. She sounded too calm. She’s not herself, Jace. She loses focus when it comes to this shit.”
“I know,” I reply, thinking about the night I came over to her place and lifted up the side table. All the photos that flew in the air, the way she fell apart in front of me. I remember the files that she had when I carried her to her apartment. I’ve noticed holes in her wall near her desk from thumbtacks which made me question if she used to have those photos hung up to look at.
When she talks about the case, darkness shows behind her eyes. She becomes this other person. It’s unsettling.
“I’m going to try her radio. She’ll answer that.”
“Okay, let me know,” I reply. I hang up and watch the road.
What are you thinking, Dalton?
Part of me hopes she doesn’t find him, but the other part wants her to so she can be free of this. It’s consumed her, and I fucking hate it.
I press the gas harder, flying down the interstate.
____________
It’s well after midnight when I get to Tennessee. Because Monroe had to stop for gas and had a blowout, we caught up with each other in Chattanooga. He flashes his lights at me, and I pull into the courthouse as he does.
I roll my window down as he leans out of his. “Let’s ride together,” he says. “One car is better than two during shit like this.”
I nod and shut my truck off before stepping out and climbing into his. I kick away a few empty coffee cups and a candy wrapper or two.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says. “I spend a lot more time in here than I’d like.”
He pulls out onto the road, splashing through a puddle. The black pavement resembles a mirror as we cruise to the bar. It’s eerily quiet. Like the whole town shuts down after midnight.
I look through the windshield as Monroe drives at a slow pace.
“She’s been looking for this man the whole time I’ve known her,” he says to me.
I pull a smoke from my pack. “Do you mind?”
He shakes his head, pulling his own pack out. I crack my window, the cool breeze rushing into the car. It’s got to be around fifty-five tonight.
I blow smoke up toward the window. “She’s obsessed,” I tell him.
“She is that,” he agrees before flicking his lighter. I narrow my eyes at the few cars parked up and down the street.
“That’s hers,” he says.
Panic rises in my throat and I hit my smoke again. We slow, pulling in behind her. I turn to look when a man walks out of the alley. His head is down, his hands in his pockets. He wears a ball cap and some worn jeans. The music coming from the bar is loud until the door completely shuts, slicing it off. It’s hard to see his face for the lack of light.
But then the wind shifts and the clouds move away from the moon. He looks up and I see him.
He’s older, lines webbing out from his dark eyes. He spits on the pavement and stumbles a bit as he walks toward an old beat-up truck.
“He fits the description Dalton gave. He’s older, of course.” Monroe takes a drag from his smoke. I turn my head when I see a woman coming from the bar.
“Fuck, it’s her,” I say, going to open my door.
“No,” Monroe says. He nods toward the old truck. “He’ll see you go to her. Wait.” I watch as the man’s taillights come on, and then he reverses the truck. Black smoke rises from the tailpipe as it shakes from the vibration of the old motor.
I look back over at Dalton. She’s standing at the edge of the alley, slightly looking toward the man as he puts his truck into drive and presses the gas. He stops at the four-way and then turns right. Dalton bolts from the alley, running to her car. She doesn’t even notice us.
She climbs into her car and starts it. Her reverse lights come on, she backs up a bit, before she pulls out onto the street.
“We’ll follow her,” Monroe says, like we’d do anything else.
“She didn’t even see us,” I tell him.
“I know.” He places his smoke between his lips and we follow behind her. She stops at the four-way and turns right just like the man.
“Do you think that’s him?” I ask.
“I hope so. He sent her another email. It’s fucked up, man. I’m just afraid that when Dalton…if Dalton finds Chloe, she’s going to be so messed up, Dalton will be beside herself.”
“Do you think she’s going to be able to move on from this shit? I mean, even after she catches the man? Will she be able to move on with her life?”
He darts his eyes o
ver to me before looking back at the road. “For your sake and hers, I hope so.”
I look toward Dalton’s car. That wasn’t the answer I wanted. Monroe has known her longer than me. He knows more about the case and how long Dalton has been dealing with this. I only know what she’s told me. I need her to be able to move on so we can move on. If she can’t, then where does that leave us?
I see the truck turn up ahead. Dalton lays back, but we’re right behind her. Her windows are tinted, so I can’t see inside her car. I wonder if she realizes she’s also being followed, or is she too focused on that motherfucker? I bring my smoke to my lips, the end burning red, my mind spinning, wondering how this is all going to go down.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Harlow
Staring ahead at his taillights, I wrap my hands around my steering wheel, blood swirling in my veins like a whirlpool. My pulse pounds against my neck, like a hammer to a spike. I feel it in my fingertips.
My mind is in a morbid place as I wonder where this man is leading me.
Does he know I’m behind him?
Does he like this game he’s been playing with me? What excites this nasty motherfucker?
Little girls obviously. The photos of Chloe in that last email showed me that she hasn’t developed like a normal healthy young woman would. She’s still childlike, and it makes me sick. He turns down a long road, and I let off the gas, slowing so it doesn’t look like I’m obviously following him. My eyes dart up to the rearview mirror, and I feel the skin tighten around them when I see a car behind me.
I didn’t notice the car before. I turn my blinker on, and it does the same. As I turn, I look back and see the side of the car. Holy shit.
Is that Monroe?
He has a dent in the side from his nephew hitting it with a rogue baseball. How in the world did he get here? I reach over to grab my phone, then remember it’s dead. I drop it and grab the radio.
Turning it to his channel, I say into the speaker, “When the fuck did you get here?”
It crackles and then he comes back. “You think I was going to let you do this alone?”
I don’t respond to that. I look in front of me, seeing the rusty piece of shit truck turn into a driveway. I follow it with my eyes, watching it go back into the woods.
I wait until the man is out of sight, and then I pull over. Yanking my car in park, I open the door and get out, tucking my shirt back into my pants. Monroe gets out, and then the passenger door opens. I tilt my head, putting my hand over my eyes, trying to see who’s with him. The person walks around the door.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Dalton?”
Jace’s voice is unexpected and snaps me back into reality.
Oh my God.
What is he doing here?
I’m not sure what to do as he walks toward me.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” he asks me. The moon reveals worry on his face, confusion and anger.
“I had to,” I tell him. “He sent me another email and I got the IP address. I knew he was here. I couldn’t sit around and wait for answers this time. I had to do something.”
“You could have gotten yourself killed. And then what would I do? Huh?” He lifts his hand and moves a piece of hair away from my face. It’s not like him. It’s sweet. I’ve worried him.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, grabbing his hand when he goes to drop it. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m sorry for dragging you into this shit.” I shake my head.
“Don’t you get it? I love you, Dalton. Drag me through hell, but be by my side.”
My heart stumbles, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I squeeze his hand, and then I remember why we’re here.
“We need to go,” I say. “I’ll leave my car here and we can take Monroe’s.”
Jace nods. I reach back and lean into the car to shut it off and grab my keys. Jace waits for me, and then we walk toward Monroe’s car.
“Is it him?” he asks me as we walk around the car door he left open.
I nod. “It’s him. I know it.”
Jace gives me a small smile, and I climb inside the passenger seat as he gets into the back.
I look over at Monroe. He lifts a brow at me. “You’re sure?”
I know it’s hard to believe. I know that I didn’t get a great look at him when I was a kid standing in the road with Chloe. But I remember his body build. I remember his height, and I remember the fucking tattoo he had on his arm. It was a dragon, blowing fire, and the flames shot across the backs of his knuckles. When he walked out of the shadows of the bar and ordered a drink, my eyes landed on those flames and my soul sparked to life.
After all this time. After all these soul-sucking years, finally, I got him.
“I am,” I say with a nod. “Let’s go.”
He looks in front of him, reaching up and pulling the gear shifter down. My skin crawls with anxiety. I’ve waited my whole life for this.
It’s go time.
I look in the rearview mirror at Jace. Our eyes connect, and we share a look that can’t be described with words. It’s like a seal has formed on our relationship, bonding us together for life.
He’s here.
I’m here.
We’re in this together. He said drag me through hell, but be by my side.
Well, here we go.
This is hell.
We creep down the drive, the trees surrounding us. Darkness stretches throughout the woods as the tires crunch gravel. A clearing comes up, and Monroe kills his lights. It’s an old factory. Lost and forgotten. I tilt my head in curiosity. Monroe stops the car. “Look,” he says quietly. I turn my head to where he’s looking and see a small trailer painted blue from the moon. His truck is parked there, the door to the tin can wide open. “Let’s keep the car parked at the tree line.”
“We need to give it a little bit. Maybe he’ll pass out. He was swerving all over the road, and he looked pretty drunk when he left the bar.”
Monroe nods. “Okay, we’ll give it thirty minutes.”
I rest my arm on the door handle, folding my lips in with my fingers as I stare at the factory. It’s dark and frightening.
God, is she in there?
Have I found her?
I shut my eyes, saying a silent prayer that maybe all of this is about to be over.
Maybe.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Jace
“Jace, you need to stay here,” Dalton says to me.
“Fuck that. I’m going with you.”
“Jace,” she argues.
“Dalton, don’t insult me. I’m a soldier, for fuck’s sake.”
She cocks her head to the side, like true. I mean, really, she didn’t think of that?
She leans up and I hear the glove compartment open.
“Here.” She hands a gun to me, and I check to see if it’s loaded.
“Okay, we need to be as quiet as possible. I’ll run around back and check things out. You two head that way, but wait for me by the door. My guess is he has her in there,” Monroe says, looking toward the factory.
“Who the fuck else does he have in there?” I ask the question we’re all thinking. Chloe can’t be the only one.
We three open the car doors silently and step out. I look down at Dalton. She takes in a breath of air before exhaling.
“Okay?” I whisper. She nods, her eyes focused. We creep toward the factory. Dalton looks over at Monroe who goes behind the trailer. We stand by the dark silver door waiting for him to appear on the other side.
“We have no proof of anything. If we get caught, we could all be in some shit for trespassing,” Dalton murmurs.
“You believe he’s the one, don’t you?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about. Let’s take this sick motherfucker down and free your sister.”
She smiles and I lean down and quick-kiss her as Monroe walks up. “There’s nothing back there but some old broken lawnmowers. I
shut the door to the trailer.”
My eyes look back toward the catty-cornered trailer. The wind blows, swaying the tall grass that has grown up around it. A shadow falls on the house as the silver-lined clouds shade the moon.
“Let’s go in,” Monroe says, dragging me from my thoughts. Dalton pulls open the door. It squeaks, the old rust rubbing. I close it behind us. Monroe gets his phone out and turns the flashlight on. We walk down a hall, and I see a light up ahead in one of the rooms.
We near a window, and Monroe shines his light in.
“Dear Jesus,” he says under his breath.
“Fucking hell.”
I’ve seen a lot over the years I was in the Army. A few things I wish I wouldn’t have.
But this.
This is an image that will forever be engrained in my mind.
Girls naked, lying in filth. They wince at the light coming from Monroe’s phone. Down the hall a rat scurries, and Monroe turns his phone in the direction. I see mold growing on the side of the walls and floor. The ceiling is falling toward the end. There’s shattered glass and old graffiti. Through a broken window in the back, Mother Nature has started to move in as twisted vines grow up the edge.
Dalton walks to the closed door. “It’s got a lock on it,” she says. A few of the girls start making noises. I think crying. “We’ve got to get them out of there.”
I pull my own phone out and turn the light on, looking around to see if there’s anything to break the lock. Carefully, I walk into another room, scanning over the floors of the old office space. There’s a desk, and I walk over to it, yanking open drawers. A field mouse scares the shit out of me, causing me to slam the drawer shut. I exhale my heart attack and walk over to the filing cabinet. Carefully, I pull one of the drawers. It’s stuck, so I pull harder until it flies open. Looking inside, I see old papers crispy from time.
I look closer and see a hammer. Grabbing it, I head back out into the hall.
“I got this,” I say, walking over to the door. They both look anxious.
“Open the fucking door,” Dalton urges.
Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4) Page 29
