Page 9 of Lone Star Hostage

Presley glanced around. “Well, if the kidnappers are here, then they know we’re here as well. And considering this whole deal feels like some kind of sick game, I’m banking on them not gunning us down before we get inside the house. Why end the game that way?”

“Because the goal might be to kill both of you,” Ruby pointed out, but then she sighed. “Angel, get in that backyard. Do it quietly and stay out of sight. Once you’re in place, Presley and Billie can move in.”

Angel didn’t waste any time exiting his van, but he didn’t walk directly to the house. He darted into the side yard of a place about four lots up. Presley figured he was heading for the greenbelt. Once he reached the house, he could climb over the fence.

Hopefully undetected.

After all, the kidnappers might carry through on their threat to cut off parts of the hostage if Presley and Billie weren’t alone.

Presley gave Angel a few minutes before he gave Billie the nod. They got out of the SUV, and after slipping their hands overtheir weapons, they made their way to the door. He tested the knob.

Unlocked.

So he opened it and glanced inside.

Thankfully, there was nothing the same about the living room. The pale yellow walls were now a bright green, and it wasn’t a fresh job. It was peeling in places as was the popcorn ceiling. The house smelled of rot and dust and death.

He glanced down at the floor. No signs of footprints, but it looked as if someone had recently dragged a broom through it. Maybe to obscure the fact that someone had been here.

“Mrs. Wessington?” he called out.

No response. Not a human one anyway, but he heard some kind of rustling sound. And, yep, it was coming from his old bedroom.

“Angel says the windows are open on the back and sides of the house,” Ruby informed them.

So, maybe the noise had been the wind. But someone had opened those windows. Of course, they could have been that way for a long time since the place was vacant. Hell, squatters could be here.

Billie and he drew their guns and started moving, both of them scanning the area for any traps or anything that could get them killed. But Presley saw nothing other than some roaches as they made their way down the short hall where there were two bedrooms and a bath. His mom had used the other room as an office for her bookkeeping business.

The door to his room was ajar, and Presley peered through the narrow opening. But there was nothing to see but an empty room.

Using his elbow, he opened the door the rest of the way, and the uneven foundation caused it to keep moving and bump against the wall.

And then Presley saw it.

Straight ahead on the wall where his bed had once been. Someone had used a black marker to scrawl TTYS.

“Talk to you soon,” he grumbled.

That was not what he wanted from these asshole kidnappers. Nor did he want to see what was on the floor.

Not Victoria Wessington. Not a person at all. But in the center of the room was a small clear glass jar.

And in the jar was the bloody tip of a finger.

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Chapter Four

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Billie kept quiet as he drove toward Jesep Wessington’s downtown office. The cops would be going there as well to give Jesep an update on the kidnapping.

A really bad update.

In a nutshell, his wife hadn’t been at the drop location. And it was her finger they’d found. Thankfully, the lab had been able to confirm that right away, but now they’d have to tell Jesep that Victoria had not only been mutilated but that there’d been no indications as to where she was or if she was still alive.

Other than that flippantTTYS, the kidnappers hadn’t left a note with the grisly jar. Nor had they contacted Presley, the cops or her in the half hour they’d all waited at the house for further instructions.

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