Heresy, p.33
Heresy, page 33
A small shake of his head.
“Save it for when we have Scott in hand. Knowing that son of a bitch, it’ll take all three of us to bring him down.”
Thankful that these two have my back in this, I struggle to shake my stoicism.
“Mind telling me when you had the misfortune of meeting him?”
That part never made sense, and at the time we first discussed Scott, the twins didn’t elaborate on how they knew him, just that they did.
Hearing Ezra confirm it again only makes me more curious.
They glance at each other, their easy smiles back in place. Damon alone shrugs a shoulder. “Let’s just say that we do, but we aren’t at liberty to discuss how.”
I stare at them … hard.
If it were anybody else, I’d be drowning in suspicion that they might be working both sides.
But not these two.
They’ve proven their loyalty again and again.
Plus, it’s not exactly fair for me to force the issue. They’re not the only ones with secrets. I have a few of my own to account for.
“What happens in a few minutes?”
There’s a knock on the door, both twins twisting to glance at it before returning their attention to me.
“You should get that,” Ezra suggests.
If these two are playing with my head, I’ll kill them.
Stalking past where they are standing by the couches, I unlock the door and tug it open.
Taylor stands on the other side, his hair a mess, glasses askew on his nose and exhaustion behind his eyes.
He’s got his trusty computer in hand, though, so that’s promising.
Rather than saying a word to me, he brushes past to cross the room and set up shop in a chair, his computer positioned on a side table next to him.
“I haven’t slept,” he complains.
“Join the fucking club.”
The twins grunt at that before dropping their weight on the couch. It tips back just slightly from their combined weight before the front legs thud home against the floor.
Shutting the door, I stay in place, ready to race out of here the second Taylor gives me useful information.
If he has it.
Big if.
At the family meeting, he was screwing up big time.
That’s not normal for Taylor.
His eyes are on the screen when he decides to enlighten us to the reason for his presence.
“I think I screwed up earlier.”
My voice is drab. “You don’t say.”
He flips me off without bothering to look up.
“Whatever. Shit happens. The point is, I also think I found more information about Brinley’s mom.”
I blink, once, then cock a brow to hurry him along. Not that he can see me, not with his eyes permanently glued to that screen, at least.
“You think or you know?” Damon asks.
“I know I found more,” Taylor answers after a few more clicks of his keys.
Slamming one fingertip against a key like a technological touchdown, he spins the computer around for us to see.
“Her driver’s license didn’t match up for seven months after she bought her first house in Georgia. There’s another Georgia address listed. So I did more digging and found that her first Georgia license was issued one year before she bought the house. This must be where she lived when she first moved down.”
Looking from him to the screen, I cross the room to take a closer look. A map of Georgia is displayed, a single red pin stuck in the middle of a small suburb.
“There,” he says, tapping his finger a little too hard against that pin. “I can’t find any record of her being there, but that’s the address, and as far as I can tell, the house was rented out for a few years before it was eventually sold to a local company owned by Margorie and Grant Freeman. The company no longer exists per licensing and business records, yet the tax records for the house still list the company.”
“What kind of company?”
If it’s textiles, I’ll lose my shit. Especially after discovering that’s how Scott flew down. What the connection is there, I have no clue, but that’s an issue to worry about later.
“As far as I can tell, it was retail. Guns, ammunition, hunting supplies. Crap like that.”
Guns.
Fucking perfect.
Hopefully, whatever hadn’t sold when they closed the business isn’t currently stored in that house.
“So how far is it from us?”
Taylor grins. “Thirty minutes.”
I drive faster than the posted speed limit and never expect a trip to take as long as the GPS says.
“We’ll make it in ten. Let’s go.”
Ezra and Damon push to their feet to follow me without question. It’s Taylor who stops us in place.
“Shouldn’t we tell Tanner and everybody else about this? Come up with a game plan?”
Patience and time are seriously lacking in my world right now. I don’t have either for game plans. I don’t need Tanner’s opinion. And any marching orders he could give me would be immediately ignored and dismissed.
This is my fight.
My war.
It’ll be fought with the methods I choose without regard for what anyone thinks.
Tanner can keep his damn box of tricks that he normally uses. I’m breaking down the walls to think outside of the box like usual.
“You’re either in the car with us or tied up in one of the rooms here for however long it takes us to get back. Your choice.”
When we peel out of the parking lot, Taylor and his computer are tucked in the back seat next to Ezra, with Damon riding shotgun.
We arrive at the house in seven minutes. It’s a new personal record.
Parking up the road next to the curb, I kill the lights and shut off the engine.
Damon shifts in his seat to glance at me first, then back at Ezra and Taylor. “So what’s the plan?”
“Simple,” I answer him, “We go in. We grab Brinley. We get out.”
“Scott had a gun,” Ezra says. “So which one of us is taking the bullet?”
I see it as a small detail but also won’t forgive myself if one of them gets shot.
No matter how pissed off I am, Ezra is right. We need a plan.
“Taylor, can you pull up the layout of the house?”
His fingers tap in response. Less than a minute later, “It has three bedrooms, each one occupying a corner of the house. In the fourth corner is the garage. Sliding door leads to the living room, which is central to the bedrooms. It’s a small home. Not much square footage.”
Sounds easy enough.
As long as Scott doesn’t sleep with his finger on the trigger, we might have a chance of getting to him before he has a chance to shoot one of us.
“What about alarm systems? Can you access their Wi-Fi?”
Brinley said it’s a safe house, so I have to assume it’s fully set up. Jerry was the one who created the house, but he was never the brains behind the business with John. Not when it came to the computers and servers. I highly doubt Taylor can’t maneuver past anything Jerry might have used to protect the house.
More tapping. “I’m accessing it now. There are no networks to speak of.”
Weird…
“No central hubs, no cameras, no computers. Just two phones and a television, none of which are in use right now.”
He taps more. “Also, per local phone providers, there is no land line connected to this house. Therefore, the alarm can’t be run through that either.”
Twisting in my seat to look at him, I can’t hide the shock in my expression. “Nothing?”
He shakes his head, his brows tugging together because he’s as surprised as me. His fingers continue flying over the keys.
“Unless he’s using a bunch of analog equipment and it’s all in-house, there’s nothing set up that would alert him to our presence.”
It doesn’t make sense. But I trust Taylor, despite the way he was striking out earlier tonight.
Still…
“You sure?”
His mouth twists with annoyance. “I screwed up before. I’m not now. I’m absolutely certain of what I’m telling you.”
The twins and I share a look, all of us shrugging in silent agreement.
“Okay. Let’s go. We’ll check for signs of life first. If nobody’s awake, we find a way in. Ezra, Damon and I will enter the bedrooms and take care of whoever we find. Taylor, you keep watch for anything outside the house. Cops, nosy neighbors, stuff like that.”
I tug the handle of my door but don’t open it fully.
Turning back to them, I add, “And whoever finds Brinley, leave her alone. Then find and help whoever pulls the short straw and ends up with Scott.”
They nod in understanding.
It takes less than five minutes for us to walk the perimeter of the house and discover no activity inside. Assuming everybody is tucked in and fast asleep, I begin checking windows and doors. All of them are locked up tight, but then I run back to the sliding glass door.
Patting my hands around the frame and also checking to see there are no bar locks in place, I’m mostly thinking out loud. “There’s a way to pop these off the track, I just need to remember it.”
Damon steps up, pride in the line of his shoulders. “I know how. Move.”
I step back, and he lifts the door up by shoving up with his palms, it lifts so high the frame comes off the track.
“Break into houses often?” I ask, my voice whisper soft as I’m eyeing Damon.
“Nah. I get locked outside a lot at my place. This is how I get back in.”
Ezra’s stare snaps Damon’s direction. “You do what?” He narrows his eyes. “Is that why the sliding door never opens right?”
“You two are not getting into this right now,” I interrupt. “Time to go in.”
We slip in one after the other without a single sound while Taylor stays outside to keep an eye out. After making our way into the living room, I point to each door while assigning who goes where.
The twins get in place, then I nod my head for them to go.
Rushing through my assigned door, I can’t decide who I hope is in the bed more: Scott or Brinley?
Brinley because I need to know she’s safe, and also because she’s mine. I’ve made that decision, and she’ll just have to live with it. She can get as mouthy as she wants. I’m still not letting her go once I have her back again.
Scott … simply because I want to kill him. No, it won’t go that far, but he’ll definitely be staying a few days at the hospital for what he’s done. I want to be the one who puts him there, not one of the twins.
There’s motion in the bed as I approach, a subtle shift as the person’s foot slides out from under a thin sheet.
From what I can see from the shadows, it has to be Brinley. The body size is too small to be Jerry or Scott.
I grab Brin and shake her to wake her up.
“Hey. It’s me. Whatever you do, don’t scream.”
Her eyes blink open, and a high-pitched scream tears through the silent room. Slapping my hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, I lean closer, still not quite able to make out her face in the darkness.
“Brin, it’s me. Shane. Don’t scream.”
I can tell she’s staring at me by a tiny reflection of light in her eye. She seems calm, so I pull my hand away.
Another high-pitched scream tears through the room, only this time, it’s met by another.
…
Turns out we’re at the wrong house.
Now all four of us are standing in the living room staring at two captives who are gagged and bound, absolute terror rolling behind their soft brown eyes.
Each woman is wearing a white nightgown, one with short white hair and the other with brown that is turning grey.
If I had to guess, one is in her mid-fifties, at least, the other easily in her late seventies.
I pace in front of them, racking my brain about what to do now.
Passing Taylor, I stink eye him. “You struck out again. What the hell is going on with you?”
He practically hisses his response. “I didn’t strike out. This house has something to do with Brinley’s mom.”
“Maybe back before Brin was born but certainly not now.”
Taylor shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m just going by where Brinley told me to look.”
A woman clears her throat loudly from the couch and mumbles beneath her gag.
We turn to look at her.
Using her bound hands, the younger of the two motions to her gag, silently asking if she can remove it.
Damn it. She may be in pain or need something important. Heart medication, anxiety meds, something. Normally, I wouldn’t care as much, but after getting Brinley through her panic attacks, I’m a little more understanding.
I nod my head for her to tug it down.
Doing so, she stretches her mouth to relieve where the fabric gag had restricted it. Then her terrified stare meets mine.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’d like to know if you plan on hurting me or my mother.”
What the fuck do we do in this situation? We hadn’t bothered with masks, and now both these women can identify us. But even given that, I’m still not going to hurt them.
I may not have many rules in life, but I’m not a complete monster.
“No. This…” I pause, wondering how the hell I’m going to clean this up. “This is all just a mix-up. We’re in the wrong house. You won’t be hurt.”
Maybe I could play it off as a fraternity stunt, like when they abduct someone to take them to some initiation ceremony.
“Thank you for that,” she says, her voice shaking. “And excuse me for eavesdropping, but did you say Brinley?”
Maybe Taylor didn’t screw up.
Brin’s name isn’t overly common, and this woman recognizes it.
“I did.”
She swallows then clears her throat. “As in Brinley Thornton?”
I turn to face her fully. “What do you know about Brinley Thornton?”
“She’s my best friend’s daughter.”
The older lady tugs her gag off. “Oh, that’s right. Brinley is Shelly’s daughter, isn’t she? Such a shame what happened to Shelly at such a young age.”
Then she surprises me by putting the gag back in place.
Something odd glimmers in the older woman’s eyes, and I swear, it looks like excitement.
Ignoring her, I glance at Taylor to confirm that’s the right name. I wait for him to nod once in response before turning back to the captives.
They may not be who we wanted, but they could be a source of information we need.
“Did you know Jerry too?”
The woman nods. “Shelly and I grew up together in California. I moved here to attend school, but then got pregnant with my son. After marrying his father, I left school and was a stay-at-home mom. Shelly moved down to Georgia to help me with Scott, but also so we could be close together.”
Stilling in place, my mind races to catch up.
She didn’t just say what I think she said.
If so, we didn’t just get the wrong house, we just crossed a line that shatters every rule the Inferno has ever had.
While we have no problem screwing with a person’s life who owes us for a favor, we never involve their families in it. Not unless they have it coming as well. But if they’re innocent, we leave them alone.
“What is your name?”
“Constance Clayborn.” She looks to the other woman beside her. “And this is my mother Agnes.”
For fuck’s sake.
Scrubbing my hand over the back of my neck, I attempt to work out the knots of frustration locking the muscles in place.
Scott’s mother and grandmother.
This is bad.
At least to Tanner and everyone else, this is bad.
Then again, I’m playing by a different set of rules at this point.
I think I know a way to work it out for my benefit.
“Your Scott’s mom,” I confirm.
She nods.
Ezra, Damon and Taylor curse under their breath.
Thankfully, Jase isn’t here for this, or he’d be losing his shit, demanding information on Everly.
Attempting to clear this mistake up and clean up the damn mess, I give Constance an explanation.
“We’re friends of Brinley’s and came down to Georgia to surprise her. She said she’d be staying at her mom’s old house and gave us this address.”
Constance looks confused, so I continue.
“She couldn’t remember where her mom used to live, but she found her mom’s old driver’s licenses. One of those houses had been torn down, so she thought this one—”
“Ah, now that makes sense. I moved to this house when I first came to Georgia from California, but when Shelly moved down, she listed my address for her license because she knew that the house she first rented would only be temporary. From what I remember, she didn’t change it until she bought a house and moved again.”
So there’s another house. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s the one Jerry and Scott are hiding in.
Taylor steps up to stand beside me. “You wouldn’t happen to know the address of the house she rented, would you?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry. That was decades ago. Since then Shelly and I both got married and raised our children. Well, Shelly died before she could fully raise Brinley—”
Yeah, yeah. That’s sad and all, but also not helpful.
Agnes mumbles, and I glance at her. A sigh falls over my lips and I feel like a complete dick for tying up and gagging an elderly grandmother.
Walking over to her, I pull the gag off and loosen the hand towel we’d used to bind her wrists. After that, I do the same for Constance.
“I’m sorry about all of this. It really is just a mistake.”
Constance laughs, the sound not quite sturdy, but at least she’s calming down.
“I’m not sure what games you kids like to play with each other these days, but let me give you a tip that might help you. Scaring the hell out of woman and tying her up is not the way you get her to like you.”
