Page 44 of Devil's Riches

“What color was he? So I know what we’re looking for.”

“Brown and white. I think it might’ve been a Jack Russell terrier.”

“Oh, how cute. I actually had a Jack Russell when I was young.” A dreamy expression crossed Annalise’s face. “His name was Barney. Such a sweet little thing. He used to bring me a different leaf every day after I got home from school. I think he saw them as gifts.”

“That’s adorable,” I said. “I had a dog when I was a kid too. I’d love to get another one at some point.”

“I would too, but it’s just so hard when they get older. Losing them is so awful,” Annalise said. She paused and let out a deep sigh. “My Barney had bone cancer when he was old, and seeing him deteriorate was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I’m not sure I could do that all over again.”

I nodded sympathetically. It was hard to believe that this woman, who was getting all misty-eyed over a childhood pet, was the same person who’d arranged to kill her own husband so that the vile organ trafficking scheme she was involved in would never come to light.

“Hey! Wait up!”

Nate’s voice cut across the lawn, and Annalise and I turned to see him striding toward us with a black rope in one hand. It was the same rope we’d used to tie up Greg two nights ago, before we knocked him out with chloroform and stuffed him in the trunk of the car.

“I saw this outside earlier. One of the maintenance guys must’ve left it behind yesterday,” Nate said when he caught up to us. “I thought you might be able to use it as a leash when you catch the dog.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, flashing a big fake smile at him. “Just hold onto it for now, and we’ll see what happens.”

We reached the edge of the woods and went in, loudly crashing over dead leaves and pine needles as we headed toward the clearing with the hatch.

“I’m pretty sure the dog ran this way,” I said, forehead creasing as I looked westward. “Oh, yes, I remember seeing that tree with the weird trunk. It was definitely this way.”

We headed into the clearing and stepped past a thick log. The hatch was only a few yards away now.

“Are you sure it came over here?” Annalise asked a moment later, looking around the clearing with furrowed brows.

“I’m sure. I saw it right here.” As I spoke, I kicked all the leaves off the hatch. “Oh, what’s this?”

Annalise blanched and took a few faltering steps backward. Nate’s right arm shot out, capturing her shoulder in his iron grip. “Where are you going?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

“I… I think we should go back to the house,” she said. “It’s not safe out here.”

“Why?” I asked, brows rising as I stomped one foot on the hatch. “This is just an old bomb shelter, right?”

Nate tightened his grip on his mother’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Mom? You don’t have anything to hide down there, do you?”

Her cheeks reddened. “No, I… I don’t…”

“Give it up,” Nate said, eyes turning steely. “We know who’s down there, and why.”

Annalise suddenly jammed one of her heels down on Nate’s left foot in an attempt to shock him so she could break out of his grip, but it didn’t faze him in the slightest. He simply snorted with amusement and twisted one of her arms behind her back, making her cry out.

“Let go of me!” she shrieked. “I’m your mother! You can’t treat me like this!”

Nate ignored her. “Help me tie her up,” he called over to me. “Get her phone, too.”

When her wrists were tied in triple knots behind her back, we forced her down the steps and into the bunker. She kicked and screamed the whole way, and when we dragged her into the main room and threw her on the hard floor, she started to cry.

“Annalise!” Greg said, eyes widening as he caught sight of her. He got up and limped over to her, wincing with pain as the iron cuff rubbed against his injured ankle.

“They tricked me,” she blubbered, tears streaming over her cheeks as her brother gathered her up in his arms. “They… they…”

She trailed off after that, too overwhelmed with shock and terror to form a coherent sentence.

“Get away from her, Greg,” Nate said, pulling a knife out of his jacket pocket. “It’s time for you to talk.”

“No.” Greg spat at Nate’s feet. “I told you, I’m not saying anything.”

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