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Shadow
Colton
When we were kids, Julian had a hiding spot in the woods. Whenever he’d get caught cheating on a test, or brought home a failing grade, or raised some other discontent he didn’t want to deal with, he’d hide out in his fort until our parents were out of their minds with worry. Then he’d stumble in, dehydrated and filthy, and they were just so happy he was home that all was forgotten.
My brother is the quintessential Machiavellian. His manipulative behavior hasn’t changed any over the years. Whenever he runs into an uncomfortable situation that he doesn’t want to confront, he finds refuge in his hiding place until it’s safe to show his face again.
Only now, instead of a child’s hand-built fort, Julian boasts a two-story log cabin along the Potomac River.
“How do you know he’s here?” Carson asks, shutting the door to his Crown Vic.
I enter in a code on the gate, and the wrought iron bars grind and screech open. “Because,” I say, walking through to the pebbled driveway, “he’s not answering my calls. He’s off the grid.”
“If he doesn’t want to be found, wouldn’t he go somewhere that you don’t know about?”
I shrug. “I don’t come here.” In other words, I don’t chase after my brother.
Julian and I have an understanding on that. Just like I knew to leave him alone during his funks when we were kids, he knows not to push my buttons. We’re good at giving each other a wide berth, and plenty of space when we need it.
Except for now. I’m breaking that unspoken rule between us. All bets are off when it comes to Sadie.
“This place wasn’t listed on any of Julian’s financial reports.” Carson’s expression darkens as he takes in the sweeping terrace overlooking the river. “Can’t see how I could’ve missed this.”
“Not all detectives are cut out for the job.” I cut a sharp glance his way, and he returns my glare. Truth is, this place wouldn’t be on any financial statement. This is what a whole lot of bribery and cash under the table gets you.
Carson smirks. “Looks like the perfect place to conduct sordid affairs…of the kidnapping and torture kind.”
My smile drops. I march up the stairs toward the entrance, wanting to get this part over with. My brother might be a lot of questionable things, but a serial killer isn’t one of them.
The sooner I prove that to Carson, the sooner I get back to Sadie. Her last update has me on edge. I can feel her panic and desperation in every message, and even though she’s strong, I know everyone has a breaking point. I never want to see hers.
I don’t knock. I go right through the front door, tripping the alarm. To the right, a panel flashes red. Carson radios in some report about the alarm, while I stare at the panel, trying to get inside my brother’s degenerate head.
A painful ache twinges beneath my rib cage as it comes to me. Steadying my hand, I enter in Marni’s birthday on the keypad. The alarm shuts off.
“I thought you never came here,” Carson says.
He doesn’t get a response on this one. When he had me in that interrogation room, dredging up painful memories of Marni, reminding me of choices I can never take back—I was there. At my breaking point. I won’t give him any more ammunition.
“You’d think a loud-ass alarm system would alert the dead,” he says, glancing around. “Your brother is either a heavy sleeper, piss drunk, or not here.” He stops at the end of the foyer, turns around. “Unless he’s somewhere else on the property. Like a basement…or a torture chamber. A nice, isolated spot where he can muffle the screams of tortured women.”
I reach into my pocket and grip my rope. Needing just one measure of restraint to ground me. I close my eyes, breathe, open them. More in control.
Julian’s seen my calls coming through. He knows I’m on the hunt for him, and I’m sure he knows it was me who tripped the alarm. I’m the only one who could’ve guessed that code. Where the fuck is he?
I take off up the stairs with Carson close on my heels. If Julian isn’t here, then that means he’s in deeper trouble than I thought. Our conversation about him wanting me to take over the club comes back to me. I honestly believed him—that he was giving up the lifestyle to get married.
I should’ve known better. Julian’s too selfish to give anything up for another person.
He’s hiding. But I don’t know from whom or what. Who has he pissed off? Which one of his cash cows got tired of being blackmailed?
Even all these years later, after learning his tricks, he’s still able to play me.
The second story of the cabin is one large, open loft. Equipped with just about every electronic, a gaming section with a pool table, and a playroom in the far corner, it’s the ultimate man cave. That is, if your ideal haven includes bondage. I doubt his fiancé has ever been here—this is Julian’s secret. Even—or especially—from her.
As Carson checks out the wall of bondage gear, I head toward Julian’s computer area. “I’m calling in a sweep,” he says. “All of this shit needs to be tested. You can’t tell me your sick brother didn’t bring Avery here. Or other vics. I’ll bet my left nut that we’ll find Avery’s DNA…” He trails off. “Holy shit.”
He’s putting in a call before I can process what I’m seeing.
