Chapter 22 #2
By digging through the darkest corners of the cyber world, I’d linked seventeen missing women to the horrors of Room 72 for sure, and there were another twenty-four possibles that fit with the pattern.
Forty-one women, and only one and a half bodies had ever been found.
Dark-web lore said the group was named after Dante’s Inferno, specifically the seventh and second circles—violence and lust respectively.
I’d picked out four main players—GutterMuse, the_dollmaker, KeepHerQuiet, and Dustpatch. Dustpatch was my arch nemesis. He ran the cyber side, the security, and he was good. Perhaps almost as good as me. I hadn’t been able to crack his shell yet, but I would.
“I’ll start rounding up missing persons reports,” Branning said. “They’re due a move this time or next time.”
“Unfortunately.”
The group didn’t stay in one place. No, they took three or four girls in an area and then moved on to a new hunting ground.
Their recent trip to Oregon had come as a surprise because they tended to prefer the southern states, but they’d hit three victims in the Beaver State without the Feds coming close to catching them, and now they’d be gearing up for a new adventure, if they hadn’t left already.
“My money’s on Alabama.”
“Why?”
“They haven’t been there yet, and they stay south in the winter.” And I couldn’t blame them. Who wanted to get cold and wet in Oregon or Washington or New England? When they popped up in Maine a couple of years ago, they’d headed to Louisiana afterward. “I need to prep.”
By “prep,” I meant send the payment, set up the tools I needed, and steel myself for what was to come. Oh, and this time, I had the added complication of explaining to Nolan why he’d find me puking in the bathroom later.
Speak of the devil…angel… Whatever. I hung up on Branning as Nolan walked in with his dinner.
“Did I interrupt your call?” he asked. “Sorry.”
“No, my call interrupted our dinner. Which I now can’t eat.”
“It’s cold? You want me to reheat it?”
To Nolan, it was a simple question, but to me, his words were a floodgate. He’d been back in my life for over two months now, and in some ways, things were different from before. Nolan had put down roots and built up a successful business. I was no longer a child. He’d kissed me.
But in other ways, things were the same. He still made sure I ate and went out of his way to keep me safe. I felt comfortable around him. He still hated the FBI as much as I hated cops. And I kept most of my thoughts, feelings, and actions, my past, and my present secret from him.
He said the next move was mine, but I couldn’t make it.
Not without letting him see more of me.
And I didn’t mean my underwear.
We were at a crossroads, and Nolan didn’t even realise it. Our destination was in my hands, I didn’t have a satnav or even a map, and my sense of direction was no better than a moth’s in a hurricane.
But tonight, I had to make a choice. I could back slowly away, or I could speed headlong into the unknown and hope I didn’t crash.
Cole stood by Jez.
And I’d already lost Nolan once. If it was going to happen again, I might as well go down in flames rather than fizzling out like a damp squib.
“The food isn’t the problem. I have to work.”
He checked his watch. “Now? It’s eight o’clock.”
“No rest for the wicked, something, something.”
“Is this corporate work or a scheme Jerry cooked up?”
“Neither.”
“You have a third job?”
“Not a job, exactly. More of a calling.”
Nolan groaned and set down his bowl. “Tell me you’re not going to hack into the CIA?”
“I’m not going to hack into the CIA. Not tonight, anyway. I have to watch a woman die, and I usually throw up after that happens.”
Nolan stared at me. “Is that…a euphemism?”
“No, it’s an active investigation into a kidnapping and torture ring that the FBI have been trying—and failing—to close for the past year. I guess you could call me an expert informant.”
“You’re…you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”
“Almost always. Apparently, it’s one of my shortcomings.”
Nolan pushed his plate away. “I think I lost my appetite too. Fuck.” He ran a hand through messy hair. “How the hell did you get involved with this?”
“I stumbled across the first video by accident on a dark-web forum, and yeah, okay, I do illegal stuff sometimes, but not that sort of illegal stuff. I mean, kidnapping random women and killing them is totally over the line.”
Not even Jez would do that. If she tortured somebody, there was a damn good reason. Nolan stayed silent. Normally, I liked silence, but today it unsettled me.
“Anyhow, I’m gonna keep going until the torture bros are in prison or dead.
” Preferably the latter. “And I’m also going to run my company and do some other stuff I can’t tell you about because national security blah-blah, and maybe that makes me selfish or obsessive or stubborn or one of the hundred other things my mom yelled at my dad while I was crying in the next room, but it’s who I am, and I can’t change.
And even though I hate that you walked out on me all those years ago, it was probably a smart move on your part. ”
Still silence.
“If I were you, I would have left me too. I can go if you want. I mean, I’m not going to be very good company this week because these assholes make me so angry that I want to throw my laptop at the wall and the FBI in the trash, and I actually did that once—threw my laptop, not the FBI—but it didn’t make me feel better.
Anyhow, I’m sorry I ruined dinner, and I’m also sorry about the whole serial-killer-hunting thing because I know that’s a touchy subject for you, what with the FBI trying to ruin your life and your dad being in prison and everything. ”
Nolan took a deep breath. In and out. “Are you done now?”
“Just getting started. The torture shows always kick off at midnight EST.”
“I meant done talking. That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one go.”
Oh.
“Uh-huh. I think so.”
A string of curses slipped from Nolan’s lips, including a little blasphemy.
Ironic, considering his father had been a fine upstanding member of the local church when he wasn’t busy playing happy families, coaching Little League, or strangling women.
As Brax had once said—when Nolan wasn’t listening, obviously—Eddie Calder did have excellent time management skills.
“Any more secrets? You don’t masquerade as Superwoman on the weekends?”
“That’s Jez.” Even though it was true, I used a jokey tone, but Nolan didn’t laugh.
No, he surprised me.
He got up, and I thought he was going to leave—again—but instead, he walked around the desk and hugged me. A tight, all-encompassing hug that squeezed my breath into a warm ache.
“I always wondered what you were doing in that fucking basement,” he mumbled into my hair.
“The torture bros weren’t around then, but I did bust a few child porn guys. I hate child porn.” Unless I was the one recording it for blackmail purposes. “So I used to package up the information, send it to the FBI, and wait for the paedophiles to get arrested.”
“Damn, Alexa.”
“Look, I know you’re not a fan of the FBI, but if you literally hand them the evidence on a plate, they don’t screw it up too often.”
“The FBI is a bunch of snakes. They tore my family apart and turned my life upside down overnight. Then Mom died, and I was so damn angry about that.” Nolan’s grip loosened, and he rested his chin on my head.
“But Dad deserved to go to prison. And Mom… When I was nine or ten, I walked in on her in the laundry room, scrubbing a stain off his jeans, and back then I didn’t realise what it was.
But now I look back and I think that maybe it was blood.
Shit. I’ve never told anyone that before. ”
“You think she did know about the murders?”
“Honestly? I think she might have suspected there was a problem, but it was easier to bury her head in the sand and carry on with life as usual. Mom never liked to rock the boat. My parents didn’t even argue, not until after Dad got arrested, and even then, she just wanted the whole court case to go away.
So no, I don’t much care for the FBI, but what I like even less is that you’ve made yourself a target. ”
“I have a hundred different identities, and I use VPNs, proxy servers, encryption, an overlay network… Nobody knows who I am, not even the Feds.”
“I’m not going to pretend I understood half of what you just said, but the FBI has spies everywhere.”
“So do I. And I also told them that if they try looking for me, they can kiss goodbye to future tip-offs. Plus I have all kinds of dirt, and if they try digging where they shouldn’t, some senior agents are gonna have a lot of explaining to do to their wives, to Congress, to the general public…”
Nolan groaned. “You’re blackmailing the FBI?”
“‘Blackmail’ is such a strong term. We have more of a quid pro quo arrangement.”
With the breaks I’d handed them, the occasional favour was the least they could do.
“I don’t trust them.”
“Me neither. I hardly trust anybody, but I trust you.”
“Really?” Nolan sounded skeptical, and okay, that was fair.
“There’s only a handful of people who know about all the different sides of me, and now you’re one of them.”
“Who are the others?”
I’d backed myself right into that corner.
It was a test, even if Nolan didn’t realise it.
If I answered truthfully, I’d be exposing even more of my secrets, but if I dodged the question, he’d know I was bullshitting again.
A half-truth could come back to bite me in the ass later.
He loosened his grip and watched me. Studied me.
“You’re trying to decide whether to lie,” he said softly.
“I hate that you know me this well.”
“Do you?” He kissed my forehead. “Or does it scare you?”
Shit.
“The second one,” I mumbled. Nolan wasn’t tough like Jez or street smart like Jay or vigilant like Chase. “Knowing my secrets would make you a target too.”
“Then you’d better be damn careful.”
I met his gaze. “You’re okay with all…this?”
“‘Okay’ is the wrong word. I understand you don’t play by the rules, that you’re driven to do what you do, and that you’ll never change. And I still love you.”
My heart raced. He’d said the next move was mine, and there was only one I could make. I brushed my lips across his.
“I’m scared I’ll get this wrong,” I whispered.
“Your foray into the dark web?”
“No, us.”
“There is no wrong or right. We’re just Nolan and Alexa, making shit up as we go along.” Yeah, because we never did get around to making that relationship plan. He returned my barely there kiss and wiped a tear from my cheek. Where had that even come from? “What can I do to help tonight?”
I choked out a laugh. Or was it a sob of relief?
“What I really need is coffee.”
“Espresso? Americano? Cappuccino?”
“Only heathens drink cappuccino in the evening.”
“Guess I’m a heathen then. You should try to eat something, even if you don’t feel like it.”
“Do we have ice cream?”
We. This thing was real, wasn’t it?
“Mint choc chip or cookie dough?”
“Cookie dough.”
Nolan let go, but before he reached the door, I stopped him.
“Wait.”
He turned. “You want whipped cream?”
“No. I mean, yes.” I was doing this. “The others I’m close to are Chase, Jez, Jay, and a covert team I work with to resolve problems we prefer not to talk about.”
“Is Jerry also on that team?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“Are you okay with it?” Nolan asked. “Nobody’s pushing you into it? With your past…”
“My past doesn’t limit me. It drives me.” I wanted to be everything my parents thought I couldn’t. “Nolan, I don’t exactly know what love is supposed to feel like, but I think that maybe I love you too.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and the chains of tension that wrapped around my chest like a lumpy boa constrictor eased a couple of notches.
“Glad you finally got with the program.”