Page 11 of Twisted Devil

He turned at the sound of his name, one hand on the doorhandle, eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah?”

“Will…” God, how stupid I sounded. My cheeks burned, and I shook my head as I forced a smile. “I just wanted to say thank you… again.”

“You’re welcome.”

It seemed as if time had frozen, and the world slowed to a stop as we stared at each other. Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Once you’re feeling better, we’ll have some questions for you.”

I blinked. Someone from the bureau had already been in to talk with me earlier this morning. I’d told her everything I knew, but…

Jason’s face was intent as he stared at me, a secret message in the depths of his eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Chloe.”

With that, he was gone. I couldn’t help the little flutter in my chest as the door closed behind him with a soft click. What did that mean? All I knew was, Jason was a man of his word. He’d promised to see me again, so I knew he would be back.

And for some strange reason, I looked forward to it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JASON

Extension cords weaved together and snaked down the steps to the cellar. Half a dozen work lights had been set up throughout the room, powered by the generator that hummed noisily in the background. The basement had been oppressive before, lit only by the single dim light bulb. But this was worse.

The harsh fluorescent glow highlighted every crack in the ancient stone wall, the damp spots where the water had penetrated the earth, and the old dirt floor. It illuminated the scratch marks its previous residents had carved into the walls, the lines stained dark with blood.

My stomach threatened to heave at the gruesome sight. I couldn't begin to imagine how many women had endured the same fate. How close had Chloe come to being raped and killed by that monster? We had searched every inch of the barn and basement, but as of yet there was no sign of the women, nothing to indicate they were ever here except the blood on the mattress and walls.

The crime scene techs were collecting as much evidence on site as possible so they wouldn't lose anything during transportation. They would take samples of the blood and send it out for DNA testing, but that could take forever. With this case, we had to dot every i and cross every t. I had to make sure that justice would be served for Chloe and every woman who’d preceded her. Every case was important, but seeing her on the receiving end had rattled me. I didn't even know her all that well, but this case had affected me more than usual, and on a much deeper level.

Walking through the barn earlier had turned my stomach. Hooks and old farm implements lined the walls, and they too would be tested for DNA. I could only imagine the kind of damage a person could inflict with those. One of the biggest questions we'd had so far was what Wainwright had done with the victims. If what we suspected was true, at least six women had been held here against their will. There wasn’t enough evidence yet to prove he’d killed them—but we’d find it.

I watched as a tech lifted what appeared to be a long blonde hair from the mattress. She bagged it carefully then set it aside and continued her perusal of the basement. The door had been removed from its hinges, and I knew from Chloe's statements that she had been integral in that process. I moved toward the edge of the doorway and examined the hinges where the door would attach. Bile burned a path up my throat when I saw her blood on the hinge.

I couldn't begin to imagine what that was like for her. I couldn’t forget the sight of her bloodied and battered hands and feet. I’d frozen earlier in the hospital room. I’d started to reach for her but seeing the thick white bandages wrapped around her hands had stopped me cold. The knowledge of what she’d endured had filled me with a fury so blindingly intense I’d physically had to stop and take a breath.

I almost couldn’t reconcile the sweet, sassy barista from the coffee shop with the woman who lay in the hospital bed. The past few days had changed her. There was a wariness in her eyes, a tension in her face. I wanted so badly to take all that away. I knew it was wrong—but I had to touch her.

She was so brave, so determined, so strong. The idea of her being here made me sick. Not to mention the others. How could someone do something so horrific? I took in the bloodstained mattress with barely restrained rage. She told us that he hadn't raped her, though he tried. She had apparently put him off, and for that I was grateful. She’d endured so much as his captive; he'd stolen her innocence, her trust in people. I was relieved he hadn't managed to take that from her too.

Everything seemed to be well in hand down here, so I headed back up the steps and into the barn. God knew there was plenty of space around here to bury the bodies, but an inspection of the grounds showed no recent disturbance. There were no holes, no piles of freshly turned dirt. The women's bodies had never turned up that we had found, and I had a terrible feeling that they were here somewhere. I just wasn't sure where.

Shelving the thought for the moment, I made my way into the old farmhouse. Everything had been photographed, but people still milled around the scene, looking for any evidence we could find. Linking the DNA in the basement would be helpful, but we needed something more concrete. We needed solid evidence that he’d killed the women so he would go to jail for a very long time.

I met Kennedy inside. “Anything new?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head. “If we don't find something...”

He trailed off but I picked up his train of thought. We’d spent the past day and a half scouring the property, but even the cadaver dogs hadn’t hit on anything tangible. If we didn't find something soon, we were completely dependent on the DNA. And I was afraid that wouldn't be enough.

“I think I've got something,” one of the techs called.

Kennedy and I met him halfway, and he held out a small wooden box. The lid was flipped back, and the items inside glittered in the light. I took in the necklaces, the silver ring, a pair of gold hoop earrings. I pulled up a picture on my phone and compared it to the necklace in the box, the pendant carved into a scripted letter E.

“Looks like Erin Stuart's necklace.”

Kennedy nodded. “Trophies.”

It was a step in the right direction, but we still needed to find the women. The families needed the closure, and the victims needed to be put to rest. As the tech bagged each piece of jewelry for evidence, Kennedy and I moved outside. I slid my sunglasses into place and scanned the large farm. The lowing of cows in the far pasture met my ears, along with the soft snuffle of the pigs penned up behind the barn.

As soon as we cleared the scene, we would have someone come take the livestock. Something spun in the back of my mind, twisting my stomach. The women's bodies never turned up, so he had to have disposed of them somewhere. I couldn’t help but wonder…

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