Page 4 of Wicked and Bound

“In the wind. Yesterday, she cleaned out her bank account and quit her job. Her neighbor saw her carrying two big suitcases out her front door before she got into a taxi around seven last night. Seems like she was planning to split town. Her social media doesn’t indicate that she was planning a trip. But now she’s missing.” Nash’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “The messages on Benedict’s burner were filled with chatter about him leaving his wife so they could make a new life together, but no solid plans. No mention of running away.”

“So…you think Caroline killed Mila to get her out of the way?”

“It’s possible Caroline eliminated Mila, but when George realized what she’d done…” Nash let the implications hang as he swallowed hard, trying to keep focus when all he could think about was Haisley in the hands of these monsters.

Hunter grunted. “Either he couldn’t live with it and shot himself?—”

“Or Caroline shot his wife, George got cold feet and balked, so the mistress shot him and staged it like a suicide to cover her tracks.”

“Another possibility.”

Nash drummed his fingers on the wheel. “But none of that explains why Haisley was taken today, of all days.”

“You thinking that the trafficking ring might have used the situation to their advantage?”

“George was seemingly involved in this operation. Maybe he got cold feet about more than his mistress. If he threatened to talk…”

“Whoever runs this ring could have eliminated both him and his wife, then planned to pin it on the missing mistress.” Hunter’s voice hardened. “That cleans up a loose end and creates the perfect cover story all at once.”

“Exactly. That would also explain the timing of Haisley’s kidnapping. They’re cleaning house. The janitor. George. Mila. Anyone who could expose them.”

“And now Haisley.”

Hunter’s words hung between them like a death knell. “Fuck.”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Kane. Did that tip about the abandoned brown van by the lake net any clues?”

“Another dead end. He went out there, but he found out it’s just some kids’ shop project. Kane thinks someone’s deliberately feeding us false leads to waste our time.” Nash pulled onto Haisley’s street, his gut tightening.

“Damn it.”

“Trees thinks he might be able to access Benedict Land Development’s network through Haisley’s work laptop. I’m heading to her place now to grab it.”

“I hope you’re not too late. These bastards are covering their tracks fast, Scott. They kidnapped Haisley, got to the janitor, and maybe had a hand in George’s death, too. They’re eliminating anyone who might connect back to them.”

Nash killed the engine. “Yeah, but they fucked up. They should have killed me, too. They’re about to find out I’m not a forgiving man.”

Hunter was quiet for a moment. “I’ll keep working my contacts. I still have friends with FBI contacts. You try to get us access to Benedict’s office network. But, Scott? Watch your back. My gut is burning. This is bigger than we thought.”

He knew that, but he wasn’t worried about himself as he hung up. Every one of his worries was for Haisley.

Chest tightening, Nash pulled up to her darkened cottage to find peer and fellow-operative, Preston Kane, leaning against his truck, expression grim in the gathering dusk. He exited his own vehicle. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Kane nodded. “Been here a couple hours, making sure no one got clever ideas about ransacking the place.” He held up a key. “I got this from Charli for you. She’s beside herself, could barely talk through the tears, but she wanted to make sure you could get in and get whatever you need to save Haisley.”

“She going to be okay?”

“She’s convinced something terrible has happened. Which…” Kane’s jaw tightened. “She’s not wrong.”

Nash took the key, his hand trembling like the rest of his body. He had to steady himself against the doorframe. The porch light was off—of course it was. After spending last night in his arms, Haisley had raced home this morning to get ready for work, expecting to come home at the end of the day.

Just like every other victim who had disappeared from that mall.

The door swung open into shadowy darkness. Into silence usually filled with her voice, with her laughter. His knees nearly buckled. He couldn’t bring himself to flip on the lights, as if that would shine a glaring spotlight on the fact she wasn’t here. It would only make her absence more real.

Moonlight filtered through gauzy curtains, painting silvery paths across her hardwood floors. Everything sat untouched, waiting. Her morning coffee mug in the sink. A shopping liston her counter with mundane items like laundry detergent and bread.

Her scent—vanilla and something uniquely, heartbreakingly Haisley—squeezed his heart like a vise, threatening to stop it. He could barely fucking breathe.

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