Ever since the police had stopped by to question him a week ago, he’d been laying low. They fully expected him to be there. This job would take no more than five minutes, tops.
They walked around the property in search of security cameras and found five. Stryker sprayed every lens with black paint. If the cameras had triggered some kind of internal alarm, it wasn’t enough to bring Hill outside.
“He’s not home,” Dakota murmured, “or he’s one sound sleeper.”
As they stalked the property, they noted the walk-out basement door in the back, a side door that led to a mudroom, and the front door.
Per their plan, they would split up. Stryker was up first. He tried the door to the garage. It was locked. Within seconds, Sin picked it, and Stryker vanished inside.
Dakota and Sin took off toward the darkened house.
The storm door on the east side of the home was unlocked, so they stepped into the small mudroom. As Dakota suspected, the door leading into the house was locked. Again, Sin picked that lock.
They were in.
He scanned the kitchen, hallway leading to the bedrooms, and the living room. The curtains were drawn, the house was filled with an eerie silence. No sign of Hill.
The kitchen was tidy, but the stench of rotting food made his stomach roil. Both men walked into the main area, which served as a dining room and living room.
Per their plan, Sin strode down the hall, opened the door to the basement, and vanished down the stairs. That left Dakota to clear the first floor, or find the motherfucker asleep in his bed. Dakota looked forward to waking him.
He took off down the hallway and peered into the open doorway on the left. Dozens of laptops lined the tables and computers cluttered the floor. Hill’s home office. He checked the walk-in closet. All clear.
Next, he cleared the bathroom, before making his way to the first bedroom. The linens on the empty bed were a rumpled mess, but Hill wasn’t there. Again, he checked the walk-in closet. No Hill.
The bedroom door at the end of the hallway was closed, but a faint light slithered into the hall. After opening the door, he heard faint whimpering coming from the closet. With his weapon at the ready, he opened the door.Jesus, no.
The rage that he kept bottled up on these missions exploded in a sea of red. A young woman lay naked on the floor, her wrists and ankles bound, her mouth covered in tape. Absolute terror stared up at him.
“I’m going to get you help,” he whispered. “Nod if you understand me.”
She nodded.
“Have you been stabbed or shot?”
She shook her head.
“I need you to stay here for a little while longer. Then, we’ll get you to the hospital.”
She whimpered.
While he wanted to remove the tape and untie her, then call for an ambulance, he would not deviate from their plan. As far as anyone knew, the Midnight Raper had never imprisoned victims in his home.
“Can you stay quiet?”
Again, she nodded, but this time, she raised her arms, silently pleading for him to untie her.
“I can’t,” he murmured. “You’re safer here.” Dakota hated leaving her in the closet. He covered her with a blanket, closed the closet door, and exited the room.
He found Stryker and Sin talking quietly in the living room.
“He’s not here,” Dakota murmured. “What did you find in the basement?”
“Three bodies of various degrees of decomposition,” Sin said. “It looks like a medieval torture chamber down there.”
Dakota’s blood ran cold.
“What about the garage?” Dakota asked Stryker.
