Page 98 of Chalk Outline
I arch my eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”
“Yes. I don’t know more than that.”
“Where can I find them?”
“They don’t operate that way. They patiently wait for a major shipment for a year or two. The shipment comes here for a quick check-up and supplies before heading to a place owned by one of them, an abandoned site that was once an asylum. I’ve only been there once. The place looks like it’s haunted by ghosts.”
I know someone who would like that.
“The bosses meet with their team and instruct them on what to do next. They used to traffic them, but now they force them to play games and kill each other, or set up death traps for entertainment.”
Sick fucks.
“Third Eye offered a reward for killing the girl in your photo. He’s the one calling the shots when the big boss isn’t available. If he decides someone should die, it gets done. People vanish before he even finishes snapping his fingers. He doesn’t mess around. He relays the message to those who need to hear it. He never plays by the rules.”
Uhh.
Interesting.
Neither am I.
“Thanks for the advice.” I retract the knife from his face and pocket it, then step back a few feet toward the door. “Do you know the big boss?”
“No one does. He is a ghost.”
We’ll see about that.
“I need the address of that asylum,” I tell Jean, and wait until Braxton finishes typing it into his computer. “Word of advice: never hire a kid to do your laundry; they hate it. Have you ever seen a kid who loves doing laundry? Come on, it’s an annoying chore. They would rather let someone else do it if they can. Just saying.”
I fire once at his head, and he dies instantly.
They all deserve to rot in the pits of hell for the suffering they bring to the children they kidnap, torture, and abuse.
I rush out of the warehouse, cross the street, and run a few blocks to a small parking lot. The van’s door swings open, and Braxton waves me to get in quickly. I climb inside and shut the door just as Mitch drives off.
“It smells like ass in here,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging it down.
“Mitch probably hasn’t showered in a week,” Braxton laughs while typing on his keyboard.
“Says the guy who sits on his ass all day,” Mitch retorts.
“We definitely need a new set of rules around here,” I conclude.
Mitch shifts gears, pressing the gas pedal harder. “You just killed a bunch of people, and you worry about this?”
I stretch my limbs and flash him my shit-eating grin. “It’s called prioritizing.”
“Done,” Braxton announces. “The camera footage from the warehouse has been destroyed. No one can recover anything. However, I saved the recordings from their meetings in case you’d like to review them and see if anything interesting pops up.”
I nod at him proudly. “Great job, you two. Let’s find an open pizza place. I’m running on a protein bar, and my stomach scolds me for that.”
“Yes, boss.”
They chant in unison.
Countless dirty needles and rusted blades litter the floor as I run across. The awful stench of urine and the carcass of an animal assaults my nose.
I launch myself up the stairs of an old, dusty structure to reach the roof quickly. Rough footsteps reverberate, and orders pass between the five men chasing me.
