Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(50)
Sawyer had never met her grandfather, and Mom rarely mentioned him. “Your father beat you?”
Mom smirked. “He taught me about life. I could either adapt or break in half. I accepted my fate and dealt with it. It didn’t mean I liked it. But I wasn’t soft like you and your sisters, railing against the unfairness of it all. If you were smart, you would do what I did.”
“And what’s that?”
“Get over it. Put all those traumatic events, imagined or otherwise, behind you once and for all.”
“Why did you hate Gramma so much?” Sawyer asked.
“When she married my father, she made a vow, and then she broke it. I didn’t hate her. I just didn’t respect her decisions. She was a coward.”
Sawyer had nothing more to say. She turned toward the door and reached for the knob.
“If you drop the Estrada case, you may stay. Otherwise, it’s best if you packed your things and left.”
“I’m staying,” Sawyer said flatly, her body and mind numb. Without another word spoken between them, she turned and slipped out the kitchen door. When she opened the door to the cottage and stepped inside, she released an appreciative sigh. Dad had made the bed for her. Although it wouldn’t be dark for another hour and she’d hardly eaten, she dropped her purse onto the floor, left the bag of ice on the bedside table, and slid off her shoes. Then she climbed under the covers and dozed off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was past midnight when Malice finally got a chance to log on to the private group. The rest of The Crew had come and gone, posting their comments throughout the day. Apparently, Cleo’s next-door neighbor was a nurse at the hospital where Brad Vicente had been taken, and Cleo was able to get some information. Doctors had reattached Brad Vicente’s penis, but it would be another twenty-four hours before they would know if the penile reattachment was successful. Doctors worried the placement of the cut might have been too close to the base and therefore he could lose nerve function. When told the news, Brad grew extremely agitated and was now recuperating in the psych ward, where they could keep a close eye on him.
Cleo’s update generated a heated debate about right and wrong and where The Crew went from here. Malice skimmed through the messages until the conversation turned to when would be an acceptable time to strike next.
PSYCHO: I, personally, don’t give two shits about Brad Vicente. He’s a monster who should be locked behind bars. He raped and tortured dozens of women. He even had the gall to video his violent acts so he could get off watching that shit whenever he felt the urge. Despite a few hiccups, we did our due diligence with the wigs and masks. The police have video footage of Brad and his penchant for violence. He’ll be thrown in jail. I’m ready to move on to Otto Radley.
Malice sighed. She’d known from the start that Psycho could be impatient at times. Maybe it had been a mistake to plan for nearly a year before making their first move. Dealing with Brad had seemed to light a fire inside Psycho. Her yearning for justice had become a war cry.
CLEO: I don’t disagree with you as to whether Brad deserved or didn’t deserve what he got. But I do think it’s best if we lie low for now. The police will be on the lookout for three women of various builds, all fitting our likenesses minus the wigs and masks. I vote that we wait a week or two before moving on.
PSYCHO: I never would have signed up for this if we hadn’t all decided together to go after Otto once Brad was taken care of. One monster at a time. That was the deal. The sicko who held me captive for three years is being released tomorrow. I plan to follow him from the moment he walks through those prison gates. The warehouse where we originally planned to keep Brad is empty and ready to go. I see no reason not to make use of it. What I need to know is, who’s in?
LILY: I am.
BUG: I agree with Cleo. Tomorrow is too early to make a move. We need to wait and see if Brad goes public with cries of being the victim despite the videos. If he does, we wait and find out what he knows about us, if anything. And what about the waiter? Would he be able to identify any one of us? He met Cleo at the restaurant. What if he comes forward?
CLEO: Besides the blonde wig I wore to dinner, I had on three-inch heels and plenty of makeup so that I wouldn’t be recognized if I ran into anyone I knew. I also made sure there weren’t any cameras inside or outside the restaurant before agreeing to have dinner with Brad.
PSYCHO: The waiter is scared. He’s a little boy. I’m confident he’ll play dumb if the police knock on his door.
BUG: But that’s my point. You don’t know what Brad or the waiter will do. A little patience will go a long way in this situation.
CLEO: Two of us want to wait and see how the Brad situation plays out, and two of us are ready to move forward, is that correct?
They all answered with a yes.
BUG: I guess Malice will be the deciding vote.
PSYCHO: I’ll be waiting and watching Otto walk free. I’m not letting him out of my sight. If the opportunity arises, at any time, for me to get him into my car without being seen, I can’t make any promises.
Malice rubbed her temples. Exhaustion was setting in. At moments like this, her passion for vengeance and justice waned. And yet all she had to do was close her eyes to relive the sexual abuse she’d endured as a young girl. Her life had been ruined because of one person. She was unable to go about completing simple tasks without intrusive and disturbing memories flashing through her mind. And for that reason, she needed to stay the course and finish what she’d started. They all needed closure, and if that meant taking risks and making mistakes along the way, so be it. She placed her fingers on the keyboard and began typing.