Don't Tell A Soul (Detectives Kane and Alton)

“Jesus.” Rowley scratched his dark hair. “Slow down. The ranch house is around the next bend.”

Kane pulled the SUV to the side of the road. “Any cover?”

“Yeah, this line of trees runs parallel to the house.”

“Grab the rifle and follow me. Shut the door real quiet.” Kane snatched his rifle from the back seat and dropped out the door. “Keep close. Any sign of trouble, fall back into the cover of the trees.” He moved out and, ducking into the woods, ran toward the ranch house. He recognized the two vehicles parked by the house but could not see the cruiser Jenna had driven. “We’ll try the house first.”

He approached the house from the side and edged to the back door, keeping under the windows. Rowley stuck to him like glue, and from the way he handled himself, Jenna had taught him well. The back door had three steps leading up to a small porch. He waved Rowley to one side then rapped on the door and listened. No sound came from inside. He grasped the door handle and turned. It swung open silently on a mudroom and he peered through into a warm, modern kitchen. “Mr. Daniels, are you there? This is the Black Rock Falls Sheriff’s Department. Can we have a word with you, please?”

No reply came from inside; no footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor.

“I’m coming in.” Kane motioned for Rowley to watch his back, rested his rifle against the wall, then moved through the mudroom and into the house. “Mr. Daniels, this is Deputy Kane.” He stopped mid-stride at the sight of Jenna’s jacket and hat tossed onto the kitchen table, then turned back to Rowley. “She’s been here. I’m going to check the house; keep your wits about you.”

He drew his weapon and searched the rooms with speed, pushing open each door, then ran back to Rowley. “It’s clear but her coat is here. Where’s the root cellar?”

“In the barn.” Rowley pointed across a cleared area to the right of the house. “The survival shelter is under that building.” He indicated to a hut about twenty feet in the opposite direction.

Kane needed more time, and every second counted. “Okay, if you needed room to torture someone, which would you use?”

“Shit, I don’t know. It’s been years since Pete showed me around the place. They’re about the same size, I guess.” The expression in Rowley’s eyes turned frantic and his hand shook around the rifle. “The root cellar would be freezing at this time of the year and filled with provisions. My bet is the survival shelter. Its concealed in a dugout under the hut and soundproofed.”

Kane pushed him in that direction. “Go.”

He took off at a run, his attention moving in all directions. Six hours, six long hours, Jenna had been missing. How long she had been here made little difference. It took seconds to kill someone. Her only hope lay in the awful truth that these monsters enjoyed playing with their victims.

Fifty-Seven

At the idea of Dean raping her, a rush of adrenalin surged through her. The circulation in her hands and feet came back in a painful throb but she pushed back the need to clench and unclench her fingers. She had endured capture by a gang of drug dealers and survived only because they had used her as a bargaining chip. This time she was disposable. The Daniels’ other victims had endured prolonged torture before the coup de grâce, but was the cruelty part of a ritual or had these men sought information as well?

The heat from Dean’s muscular thighs burned into her flesh. She quashed the first instinct to move away and fight because his pleasure came from seeing fear, hearing his victims scream in terror. If he skinned her alive, she would not give him the pleasure. Opening her eyes a slit, she glanced down at his muscular body and noticed he had removed every hair from his flesh. He obviously did not plan to leave any DNA evidence but had overlooked the trace elements from the lubricated condom. She read the name on the condom packet he tossed next to her on the plastic sheet and it was the same brand, a Trojan Bareskin.

Terror marched a path down her spine. Trapped in the lion’s den, alone and defe

nseless, she had to act with deadly force and time her attack to the second. When Dean pushed up her knees and spread her thighs, she clenched her jaw and did not resist. The fool had done her a favor by placing her in a fighting stance. It would take a slight roll of her hips to deliver a death-blow kick to his throat. He moved closer and kneeled before her. Bile rushed up the back of her throat in disgust. She could smell him, and his male scent hung over her in a cloud of disgusting stench. When he fondled her with his rough hands, she wanted to scream, but her unresponsiveness had produced a negative effect on his virility.

“Damn it.” Dean sent a stinging slap across her cheek. “Wake up, bitch.”

“You’ve overdosed her and she’s probably in a coma.” Dirk peered into her eyes. “She should be awake by now.” He lifted and dropped her arm. “She’s out of it.”

“Get a bucket of water and pour it over her head. It’s freezing enough to wake the dead.” Dean moved on his knees to the edge of the mattress. “Don’t get any of it on me.”

Heart pounding, Jenna waited for Dirk to get to his feet and walk out of her periphery. When Dean’s attention moved to his brother, she bunched her muscles and rolled. The kick landed under Dean’s jaw, snapping his head back and crushing his larynx. He sprawled on the floor and his eyes rolled up, showing white. His body jerked and he let out one gurgling sigh. As Dirk turned around, she sprang to her feet and fell against the shelves. One hand closed around a can of beans, and she turned and took a fighting stance. “One down.”

The look of pure evil etched on Dirk’s face chilled her to the bone.

“I’m gonna slice you to the bone, bitch, then feed you to the pigs.” Dirk advanced toward her, drawing his hunting blade from the sheath at his waist.

She pitched the can at his head and missed. The missile bounced off his broad shoulder with as much impact as a feather. He gave a soft, menacing laugh and tossed the knife from hand to hand, regarding her with amused interest.

“That all you got?” Dirk made a figure eight with the blade. “I’m so gonna enjoy making you scream.”

“Bigger men than you have tried.” She moved her hands in an effort to distract him. “Your brother didn’t do so good, did he?”

“Listen to you, all mouth.” Dirk grinned as if enjoying a drink with her rather than fighting to the death. “Keep going, you’re making me horny, and when Dean regains consciousness, he’ll keep you alive for weeks to make sure you enjoy the full Daniels brothers’ experience.”

He hasn’t realized Dean is dead. I must keep him talking. “Kidnapping and torture is a hobby, is it? You like to rape both men and women?” She snorted. “And I thought Pete was all talk.”

“Pete?” Dirk shook his head. “That boy didn’t have the stomach to kill a chicken. Why do you think he lived in town?” He met her gaze and his lips curled into a predatory smile. “But before I cut out his tongue, he told us all about you.”