Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(55)

Uncle Theo rushed forward when she pulled the lid off the bottom bin.

Stunned by what she saw, Sawyer began sifting through the pile of photos, dozens of them. Little girls in compromising positions, aged two to twelve was her guess, all of them naked and scared. Her heart thudded dully in her chest. “You’re disgusting. I was right about you. Your depraved soul has no limits.”

She focused on one particular photo, picked it up, and stared at the little girl, who was looking into the lens of the camera. Long-buried emotions flooded through Sawyer and exploded in fury. Uncontrollable tremors racked her body. Her head pounded.

Facing her uncle again, she put the photo up close to his face. “Are you going to search for this little girl, Uncle Theo, and ask for her forgiveness? Maybe when you find her, you can tell her all about your therapy and how you found peace in the solitude of your cell. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

He grabbed the photo, put it in the bin, and placed the lid on tight. When he was done, he stood silently, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to scrub off all the layers of immorality.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” she asked. “You were the one prowling around the cottage last night?”

He looked at her then, his eyes suddenly round and bright, as if he was scared for both of them. “It wasn’t me. I swear it. If you were smart, you would pack up and leave River Rock for good and never return.” He shook his head violently, as if possessed. “It wasn’t me,” he said again. “The devil is close. You better run.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It was noon on Sunday by the time Malice was able to get back to the warehouse off Power Inn Road. Getting Otto Radley set up inside hadn’t been easy, even with four of them helping. They had cleaned up the warehouse weeks ago, thinking they would use the building for Brad. They had brought two cots, camping chairs, Coleman lanterns, and a mini camp stove to make coffee or tea.

Home away from home.

She parked next to the cargo van, grabbed the soft-pack cooler from the passenger seat, climbed out, and took a look around. The closest building was miles away. But still, they were taking a big risk. It had taken months for The Crew to decide where they would keep the men they brought to justice. They had considered the Sacramento rail yard, where lots of trains were rusting away, but then the city finally decided to do something about the eyesore. And besides, much of the rail yard was guarded.

This abandoned warehouse was by far their best bet. But after the long search, she couldn’t drive by a shipyard container or a dumpster without thinking someone might be trapped inside.

Malice walked around the side of the building to the back, where they had found a door that wasn’t locked. The front of the building was secure with metal bars.

How would her sisters feel if they knew what she was up to? Shocked? Amused? Angry? She couldn’t think about that now. “One predator at a time,” she said under her breath before knocking on the metal door.

She heard the chain they had fastened around the handles being lifted before Lily opened the door. Five foot six, blue eyes and golden hair, she was wearing a mask and a black wig. The outdoor adventure shop where she worked sold gear for every occasion. She grew up hunting with her dad and had provided them with the coffee maker, camping chairs, and a rifle.

Malice had never shot a gun before, and she wasn’t about to start now. Although hunting was definitely a thing where she grew up, guns had never been in her life. They scared her. Last night, every member of The Crew except Cleo had been shown how to load and unload the weapon. Once loaded, Lily easily swung the barrel back into place, cocked the hammer, and pretended to fire. Every time the sequence was repeated, Malice had gritted her teeth and held her breath.

Guns had never been part of their plan.

But neither had cutting off a man’s penis.

“What have you got there?” Psycho asked excitedly as Malice stepped inside.

Malice handed her the soft cooler. “There are sandwiches, dried fruit, pretzels, nuts.”

Psycho smiled. “Great.”

Malice looked around. Their prisoner was in the far corner, which was good because she didn’t want to have to look at him too closely when she was here. They had fastened Otto’s arms and legs to old metal piping that might have once been used for bringing in water. “Can he hear us?”

“Just keep your voice down.” Psycho shrugged. “We’re using aliases, and there’s not much we can do about it since I want him right where I can see him at all times.”

“Hey,” Malice said to Bug. “Has anyone heard from Cleo?”

“I did,” Lily said. “Her arm is sprained, not broken. She’s wearing a sling and taking the rest of the day off.”

Bug was sitting in one of the camping chairs. She had her computer on her lap. “I’m going to take off in a few minutes,” she said. “But it looks like our man Brad is denying that he’s the guy in the videos we left for authorities to find.”

“That’s no surprise,” Psycho said.

“No,” Bug said, “but what’s weird is that people on social media seem to be siding with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” Lily said. “I thought you posted the videos. Can’t people see what he’s doing to these women—torturing and raping them for days and getting away with it? Why would anyone side with a monster like that?”