Page 15 of Dolly

“And her fucking father comes out of the house waving his damn hands in the air yelling about where the hell she’d been. And then he saw me in the car.”

“And your lovable face is so memorable,” she adds.

“Yes. He recognized me. And when he smelled the liquor on her breath, he didn’t even bother to listen to anything I said. It didn’t matter that she looked at least twenty-three. She was seventeen, and my career was in the shitter.”

“Yeah, that’d do it. You’re lucky he didn’t take your badge for serving a minor.”

“I didn’t buy her a single drink. She had a tab going at the bar with her daddy’s credit card. Stupid girl.”

Cathy snorts. A shitty story doesn’t deserve much laughter. Especially since she’s probably off on a European cruise for spring break while I’m paying the penance for Ella’s life decisions.

“Okay, take the next exit.” Cathy straightens up in her seat. “It’s a mile and a half from the exit.”

“In a residential area?” Could these assclowns be so bold as to use a house in the middle of suburbia?

“No, industrial.” She opens her screen wider. “Looks like warehouses, office buildings, that sort of thing.”

“Any word from Pierce?”

“Not a peep. Maybe he decided to go without us,” she says.

I take the exit faster than the recommended speed limit.

“Go right,” Cathy navigates for me.

“If I was going to have an underground porn ring, this would be the place to do it,” I say as I take another turn. The buildings are rundown, abandoned.

“The airport wants to expand its runways. They’ve bought most of this land already. There are just a few holdouts,” Cathy explains.

“Call Todd and have him track down the owner of the building.” I slow the car to a roll as we pull in front of the blinking dot. “A print shop.” I park the car across the street. “Where the fuck is everyone?” There’s not a cop in sight. The PD should already be here.

“Pierce says backup’s arriving in ten minutes.”

“Fucking hell. You talked to him almost half an hour ago!” A light flickers from the building, and I cut off my headlights.

“Ten minutes isn’t bad. We’ll wait,” she says.

I blow out my frustration. Images of that girl burn into my brain, playing on a fucking loop. The cuts, the bruises…

“That sick fuck had a razor blade, Cathy. He was going to skin her.” I turn off the ignition.

“What are you doing?” she asks, but I’m already out of the car.

Her hurried footsteps trail behind me as I make my way to the main entrance.

“We should wait.”

“They should have been here,” I growl, pulling my gun from my hip as I try the door.

Locked.

’Cause that would make it too easy.

Keeping close to the building and avoiding the high windows, we make our way around to the back. A loading dock with one truck nestled in the bay. I signal for Cathy to follow me to the open truck door. We climb in, and hot air blows into the cargo hold. I cover my mouth with my sleeve as Cathy coughs behind me. The back door is rolled up, giving view to the inside of the warehouse. Bare, dark, except for a single bulb swinging several feet from the truck.

“Brian, I can’t breathe.” Cathy coughs again, tugging on my jacket. We shouldn’t be here. We should have waited.

“I smell fruit loops,” I say, stumbling forward. I shove at her, miss, and go down to my knees. She’s next to me, coughing and muttering.

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