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The police must be as eager to find Alyssa Dansby as I am because within minutes, the station grows quiet. The woman at the front desk doesn’t bat an eye when Trenton tells her that he’s taking me back to the hotel now that the perp has been identified. She wishes me good luck before we can make it out the front door of the police station.
He doesn’t exactly obey traffic laws as we make our way through town, the GPS on the dash directing us when to turn. The closer we get, the more I start to regret what we’re doing. Fear that Ronald Higgle will somehow escape the police and come after me again settles deep inside of me, to the point that I’m shaking when Trenton cuts the lights on the SUV and slowly begins to roll down the gravel road.
“Seeing him arrested is going to help,” he says, looking out the front windshield like he can see anything but the softly lit road in front of us.
The sun is starting to peek over the horizon. This time of day would normally calm me because I stupidly let myself believe that bad things only happen at night, but the sky looks exactly the same way it did the day I was abducted in Tennessee.
The SUV comes to a stop, revealing a line of police as they approach the house. I don’t know if they got their search warrant or not, but I can also picture the man inside firing on the police and going out in a blaze of glory before ever being taken alive.
The phone rings, making me scream in terror.
“Grinch?” a man asks, his voice coming through the Bluetooth speakers.
“Can you connect us?” he asks, turning to look at me. “It’s Max, our IT guy.”
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest as I turn my eyes back to the house in front of us. The police are more concerned about the situation in front of them, so no one seems to notice that we’re even here.
A few crackles and clicks fill the cab of the SUV before the talking begins. It becomes clear very quickly that we’re somehow listening to the police speaking into their mics as they inch closer to the house.
“No movement.”
“Nothing in the back.”
“I say we just blow the fucking doors right off this place.”
“By the book,” someone else insists.
“Anything?”
“There’s—fuck, blood covering the floor in the living room. Lots of it.”
“That’s what we need boys. On my count.”
“B-blood?” I whisper. “Are we too late?”
Trenton clasps my hand in his, but I don’t think he can feel the tremble coming from his own body. His nervousness and fear heightens mine.
Entry commands are called out, the men making their way inside and clearing the rooms.
“Fuck,” comes another grunt.
“What is it?”
“Shit, I don’t know the code.”
“What is it?” the voice insists again.
“Looks like a murder-suicide.”
I feel like I can’t breathe.
“I have her!” someone yells, the joy in his voice echoing around the SUV. “Alyssa Dansby? No, sweetheart. You’re safe. Hold on. Let me get the gag off.”
Female sobs fill the air a second later, and I realize that it’s hers and mine combined. Trenton pulls me to his chest as much as he can with the console between us.
“He killed his partner?” one of the police involved in the raid asks.
“She killed him,” comes the response.
Tell them I was Karen Bishop.
She knew what she was going to do before she walked away from me last night. I should feel grateful for what she’s done, but I just can’t muster that emotion. How much pain have others suffered because it took so long for her to finally stand up to him?
Tears blur my vision as I watch a female police officer escort Alyssa Dansby down the front steps of the porch. Even from this distance, I can see how badly she’s shaking. It’s mere seconds before an ambulance pulls up and carries her away.
I nearly lose it all over again when several police officers carry shovels around the house to the backyard. I know they’ll find at least one lost soul buried back there.
“Ready to go?”
I shake my head. “I need to see that he’s dead.”
“It could take hours,” he warns, but I just can’t leave until I know for sure that he won’t be able to hurt another woman. “Max?”
“On it,” the man on the phone says. “Heading your way.”
The call disconnects, but a second later, Trenton holds up his phone in front of me. I roll my head on his chest so I can see the screen.
“How?” I ask after realizing what I’m seeing.
“Max is very talented.”
“It doesn’t seem exactly legal,” I say as I watch live body-cam footage from one of the guys walking around inside the house in front of us.
“Promise not to tell anyone?”
