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“Your … ah … Maxwell Calder owns the property on Lake Boone. Does he own any other properties listed under different names? Maybe a business or—”
There was a fast intake of breath. “An LLC?”
“Yes.” He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and prepared to type down the information Merry relayed.
“Jane Elyse, LLC. Kinley asked me if there was anyone else in my family, but I couldn’t answer her. I grew up with my alleged father and Uncle Wayne. Did my dad—uh, Maxwell murder those girls in Kingston?” Her voice wobbled. She was trying to hold herself together for his Kinley.
“We’re going to find out. Thank you,” he said. They’d just gotten a step closer. Goddamn, they were going to scour the property, turn over every rock and blade of grass.
“Wait,” Merry yelled.
“What is it?” Time was ticking. He needed to move. Now.
“I just remembered, my dad always used to tell me that if something went wrong when he was undercover we’d go to the bunker he kept on that property, and it would be safe. He wrote the coordinates on the back of a framed painting in my apartment.” Merry rattled off her apartment complex and promised one of her neighbors would be there to open the door. She was still under observation at the hospital. He didn’t interrupt her to tell her it was unnecessary, that he was holding the address in his hands already. He released a long, pent-up breath. When that bastard had taken his woman underground, he’d dug his own grave. He just prayed Kins survived it.
After they updated the bureau and the state police, Gus insisted on taking the wheel again. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was a good thing. He was out of his mind. Traffic was congested, and as the car inched along at an infuriating pace, Easton was ready to lose it. His control was slipping. Coldness pressed against the glass windows. The temperature had dropped, and his beautiful Kinley was somewhere out there. He’d been brave for a great many things, but losing Kinley struck his heart with a fear so deep it threatened to swallow him whole. If she… God—he couldn’t even go there. If something happened to her, there would be a gaping chasm in his soul. He promised to protect her, and he’d failed. He wouldn’t blame her for walking away from him when this was all said and done. How could he possibly deserve her when he’d fucked up so badly?
“Take a breath so you don’t have a fuckin’ stroke,” Gus said as he cut the wheel to the right and broke several traffic laws. Thank Christ, they were finally moving.
“Told her I had her back,” he choked out.
“And you have. You will.” The closer they got to the address, the more Gus’s features hardened. He was locking his feelings down in a way Easton couldn’t. Not when it was Kinley. Not when he knew what she’d gone through at the killer’s hands once already. “When we get there, we have to assess the situation. I know you’re going crazy, but if you run in halfcocked, you’re going to get us all killed.”
“No fucking chance I’m waiting for backup. All the things he could be doing—” Fear clawed its way up his throat, making it hard to speak.
“Don’t go there.” Gus’s gaze sliced over to him. “If he has her, if they are both in our sights, you need to go to Kinley. She’s gonna need you, and I doubt you can be objective right now.” Flakes of snow began to whip around the vehicle. Snow could cover tracks and reduce the chance of surviving overnight exposed to the elements.
“He deserves to die.” Never had he gotten a rush of pleasure at the idea of killing someone, but he wanted to pummel the Kingston Town Killer until there was nothing left.
“Don’t disagree. But he needs to be the one behind bars, not you.” Gus slowed the car and took the exit ramp. They didn’t stop in the small town, just drove straight through to the outskirts. Dirt roads replaced cracked pavement. Gone was the occasional house. Just spindly trees casting dark shadows over the rudimentary path. Somewhere close, Kinley was being held against her will, and there was nothing he wouldn’t give to get her back unharmed.
“Stop.” Easton held his hand out. “We’re half a mile out. Let’s leave the car and go on foot. I don’t want to give him reasons to make a rash decision.”
Gus nodded and pulled his car as close to the tree line as he could. Without another word, he turned off the engine and pocketed the key before rounding the hood and joining him on the other side. With cautious steps, they made their way through the forest. Every time a twig snapped beneath his boots, his heart froze. They were so close to finding her, but with each second that ticked by, each noise they made had the potential to alert someone to their presence. When the ramshackle hunting cabin came into view, the urge to rush in coursed through him. Gus had been right though. Now was not the time to go in guns blazing. At least not before they determined that no other victims were being held. They crept closer to the property, hidden by poorly maintained brush and weeds.
“Cabin looks dark.” Blood roared in his ears. If they were too late or had come to the wrong location, it would cost Kinley her life.
His brother said nothing, but the weight of Gus’s hand was suddenly present on his shoulder. “Brace,” Gus said, squeezing his arm tighter.
Easton followed his gaze, and his stomach lurched. Bile seared a path up his throat. A hundred feet away, a portly man with stringy hair was coming around the side of the cabin, hands coated in blood.
Easton surged to his feet. His actions were governed by blind fury as he pounded across the brittle earth. Gus’s shouts were a muffled sound he refused to process. There was only one thing on his mind, and that was eliminating the threat against his woman. The blood, possibly Kinley’s, snapped through the last of his control. Red-hot hatred infiltrated his peripheral vision. The man had stopped in his tracks, his hollow eyes shifting from left to right, seeking an escape. Easton slammed into him, knocking them both to the hard ground. He raised his fist and pounded his fleshy cheek.
“You motherfucker,” he seethed. “Where is she?”
The sick bastard’s lips curved into a delighted smile.
“I’ll gut you. I’ll fucking gut you.” Easton didn’t recall moving, but he saw his hand in motion, punching the man over and over until the smirk was merely a pool of blood and broken teeth.
Gus barked his name. “Enough. We have to find Kinley.” His brother shouldered him back and flipped the man on his stomach before pulling a pair of cuffs from his pocket. They left the bastard moaning on the ground and followed the tracks he left through the snow. Droplets of blood were apparent now, and only a few feet in front of him, a steel hatch was visible.
“Take one side,” Easton said to Gus, and together, they pried open the top. Gus shone his light into the hole and caught sight of something beneath the bright stream.
Nothing could’ve prepared him. Nothing.
