A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(30)

I also wasn’t sure if I wanted to come across my aunt’s abuser or if I wanted to avoid him. But those items were needed. The longer she left them behind, the better chance he had to find them.

“Where’s the safe?”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


JESS


This was beyond a bad idea. The worst idea. Whatever was beyond worst.

I’d parked a block away, and I was maneuvering through the neighbors’ backyards to the house. Her safe was in the basement. She’d given me the layout of the house, said where the asshole would be sleeping, or where she assumed he’d be sleeping.

“You should be able to slip in through a side window that goes into the basement. The screen is loose, and when you climb in, there’s a footstool at the bottom for you. The safe is in the next room, but he won’t be in the basement. He doesn’t go down there unless . . .” She looked away, and I got an up-close-and-personal view of a bruise on her cheek.

Abusers normally didn’t pick a specific room where they would only abuse, but going with what she wasn’t saying, I was guessing some really bad stuff happened down there.

I took the key she gave me. “He’ll be asleep?”

“He should be. I’m sure he was up all night driving around looking for us.” She indicated the key in my hand. “That’s for the safe. You won’t need a key for the house. The window is unlocked, and no one would ever break into that house. All our neighbors know, you know.” She looked down this time.

I knew. I was getting a real good view of the entire situation, and there was a special place in my belly that burned against assholes like her husband. Neighbors knew. The cops knew. I was now wondering what my mom knew as well.

When I turned to leave, she wouldn’t release my arm.

She said, “I’m not letting you go into that house alone.”

I frowned, holding up the key. “That’s why you gave me this.”

She was shaking her head. “I don’t know you, but you’re my niece. I’m coming with you.”

A whole argument ensued because no way was I bringing an abused woman back to her abuser.

“I have a gun. I can protect myself.”

Her head just kept shaking from side to side, going faster and faster. “I know how cops work, and you guys don’t go in without backup, not if you can get help. I’ll . . .” She was looking around, her eyes wild, panicked. “I’ll stay in the car. How about that? I won’t go in, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you too.”

So a compromise was made.

My aunt came, but she’d stay in the car. That’s why I’d parked so far away.

I was tearing down an alley when I looked back to make sure she was doing as I said. After that, I ran a little bit lighter, hurrying forward.

The garage and back door were on the opposite side of the house from where I crept up.

No lights were on.

I listened but didn’t hear anything, so at this point, I was hoping her information was correct.

I went to the window she identified, felt around, and found the screen was loose indeed. I took it off, gently laying it on the snow beside me. I pushed open the window how she told me. When it was open, there was enough room for a medium-size person to crawl there. I went in horizontally, holding on to the windowsill as my legs went down, feeling around for the footstool.

I found it, tested it out, but it was sturdy.

She was right, and also I didn’t want to know how many times she’d needed to leave her own house this way.

The room was dark. I pulled out my flashlight, shining it on the floor as I edged to the door.

I opened it. Still dark. No sound, so I crossed to the wall she’d indicated.

I felt around, finding a notch in a little crevice, and I pulled it back. It lifted easily, and voilà, it wasn’t a safe inside, but it was a box with the lid locked down. I fitted in the key, unlocked it, and aimed my flashlight inside the box.

I located their birth certificates and her ID, but there were some drawings the kids had done. I grabbed those, then looked through the rest. Bank statements. That was interesting . . . I wasn’t sure what to make of that because they were addressed to him. I still took them. Some other documents, a letter, a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. I took all of it, and the bottom was lined with cash.

I took that too.

I cleaned the box out, stuffing everything in my jacket. I locked it up, pocketed the key, and put it all away and moved the piece of wall back in place.

I was turning, planning on leaving, when a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the house.

I jumped and whipped around, drawing my gun.

A chill went down my spine. That wasn’t upstairs, like she’d told me. It was from down in the basement, and by my guess, a few rooms away.

A second scream was right on its heels.

A third.

I was moving before I was thinking, opening the door and seeing a bunch of rooms in front of me.

More screams.

I heard yelling now, and I didn’t pause because if that was him? If he found my aunt again? One of their kids? Or if he took someone else to torture in their place?

I wasn’t going to answer my own questions, not until I knew, and then I would deal with whatever I was going to do.

It was coming from a back room, on the other side of a seriously small door.