Chapter Thirteen
Grayson
“Gray?”
I turned away from the windows and the blizzard raging outside to find Jake standing in my office doorway, looking like shit. None of my guys had slept more than two hours at a time since Carrie’s kidnapping.
I didn’t think I’d slept over three in the last five days.
I couldn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her covered in blood, being tortured in the same manner I had been.
Now, I was looking at Jake, realizing how far gone we were. A blizzard had swept over Colorado, one of the worst the state had seen in years. Half the state, including the city of Denver, was out of power. Thankfully, the central downtown buildings had backup generators. However, I couldn’t help but fear that my sunshine was out there, somewhere, freezing in this mess.
Then again, I was losing my fucking mind.
I didn’t even know if she was in this state, let alone the fucking country anymore. Time passed, and we still had no leads. Brandon and Monica disappeared, and even though Jake was monitoring both of their bank accounts, everything was quiet. They had to be using cash—Monica’s money, no doubt. Brandon had a single account, under a fake name, and there was less than thirty dollars in the damn thing. Monica’s account, however, had a good chunk of change in it. We’d learned that money had come from multiple deposits from one of Robert’s three accounts over the years. He’d been taking care of his mistress on the side and had been using both of his aliases to do it.
“Jake, I need you to go get some sleep,” I told him, authority laced through my voice. I’d been pushing him too hard, demanding too much of him because of the skills he possessed. “Go to your apartment and clock in eight hours for me.”
Jake shook his head. His hair was tied back, bags underneath his eyes and redness within them. He’d been staring at his screens for too long. He also looked devastated. “Gray,” he repeated, holding up a piece of paper. Not even a second later, Hayes came up behind him, his tired eyes wide.
“She talked. She’s spilling everything to Dominic right now.”
Dominic had been in with Robert Hale’s parents for over twenty-four hours. First, the father, who, after hours of Dominic’s torture tactics, gave us nothing. We then realized he might have been telling us the truth: he didn’t know anything about his son or the kind of life Robert lived.
I nodded, moving around my desk and pointed at Jake. “What is it?”
He shook his head once. “Nothing. I’ve found nothing on Whitelock, Gray. I’ve done everything I could.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder, holding his eyes. “You did all you could. Go home. Rest. Come back after you’ve had eight hours of sleep, yeah?”
All the Red Snake team had apartments in the building across the street. We’d agreed on that years ago, just in case I needed to call everyone in for an emergency. In Charlotte, the boys had their own properties—some had condos, and some had houses.
Hayes and I left Jake in the hallway as we both jogged down to the holding room where Hale’s mother was being held. I opened the door to find a spotless room, not a single drop of blood anywhere. Instead, I found Dominic, back to his normal self, dressed in a three-piece suit, sitting across from the woman who was blubbering with tears. There was a tissue box in her hands, and Dominic was jotting something down on his legal pad.
The woman looked at Hayes and me, fear shining in her tear-filled eyes before she looked at Dominic in a panic. His words were smooth, rolling off his tongue in a professional manner. “Mrs. Hale, these are the gentlemen I told you about: my boss, Joseph Grayson, and Red Snake’s second in command, Hayes Mitchell.
My eyes shot to Dominic’s, the question on the tip of my tongue.
He read me and answered me. “Gentlemen, Mr. Hale has been deceived the majority of his life. He knew nothing about his son’s dealings, but Donna did,” he explained, looking back to her, leaning forward slightly in his chair as a bright smile spread across his face. “Now, remember what we discussed, Mrs. Hale. You tell us everything we need to know, and you and your husband go free. You don’t, your husband dies, and we’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life rotting in a five-by-seven prison cell, sleeping in your own piss and shit. That clear?”
Hayes and I shared a look.
Dominic wasn’t playing nice.
He was playing the part Donna Hale would respond to.
“Y-yes, I understand,” she stammered out weakly.
I stepped forward, going to the side wall and folding my arms over my chest, glaring at the woman. Hayes shut the door and moved to lean against the wall behind her, mirroring my stance. It was an intimidation tactic.
“Start from the beginning,” Dominic ordered smoothly, his voice cold as he sat back, putting a recorder on the table after pressing the button, the red light shining.
The woman nodded quickly and looked down to her lap. “I know I might have made some mistakes raising my children, but despite all of the dysfunction within our family, I love my children. Very much.” She raised her head, looking directly at me. “Robert was a troubled boy. From a very young age, he began displaying…weird behaviors.”
“What kind of weird behaviors?” Hayes demanded from behind her.
She jumped and looked over her shoulder at him.
“Don’t look at him,” I warned, my voice low, my patience thin. “If you’re looking for redemption, you aren’t going to find it in this room. We aren’t your saviors and we sure as fuck aren’t going to bring you to salvation. You take that up with whoever the fuck you believe in after you tell us about your son. Don’t look at us for a reaction. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings. Now, talk.”
She nodded quickly and blurted, “Robert liked to burn things. He was obsessed with fire from the age of four, I think. He would always try to steal the matches from the kitchen and try to light the living room curtains on fire.”
I felt Hayes’ eyes on me. “Go on,” I ordered, not looking at him.
“When that wasn’t enough, he would torture the neighbor’s cat, plucking its fur out and holding it down. He almost succeeded in drowning it in the blow-up pool one summer. I came home early from work and found him holding the animal down in the water, and his face was expressionless.”
My spine straightened, and I bit down hard, stopping myself so she could continue.
“He was our eldest child, and Brandon was the second oldest, only a year younger than him. Brandon was a sweet boy, the most perfect boy,” she said softly, looking at the table. “He would always try to help me around the house. However, I later realized he only stayed by me to stay away from Robert. My husband was rarely ever home, at two jobs he had to work so we could put Robert through his private schooling. I’d gone to a doctor when he was five to discuss his…hobbies. The doctor suggested putting him in a private school so he could be exposed to a different environment.”
“And what did you tell your husband when you enrolled Robert in private school?” Dominic prompted.
Donna looked over to him, more tears in her eyes now. “I lied and told him it was recommended by the public school because Robert was a gifted child and would thrive there. In the end, he did, in a way. The weird behaviors at home stopped, and his interest in fire seemed to disappear altogether. I was relieved.”
She looked down to her lap for a moment, taking a breath before continuing, “Years passed, and we had our daughter, Amy. There was a six-year difference between her and Robert. For the most part, he ignored her. Then again, his attention was mostly on his girlfriend, Monica.”
My eyes shot to Hayes.
“Even though he mostly kept to himself when he was home, there were still some days when he would just…lose it. One Christmas Eve, while my husband was working an extra shift he picked up, I walked into the kitchen to find Robert holding a butcher knife to Brandon’s throat.” A sniffle came from her then, and she shook her head. “Brandon had been so scared, he urinated all over himself, and when I turned on the light and demanded to know what was going on, Robert said that Brandon had been messing with his things. Robert told me to forget about it and to get my ‘other son’ in line. Brandon stayed in his room the entire next day. He didn’t even open his presents.”
She was silent again, and Dominic cleared his throat. “Donna,” he clipped.
The woman didn’t look at any of us as she began speaking again. “I’m sure you know that we lost Amy when she was only ten years old.”
We said nothing.
“It was a spring morning,” she began softly. “Robert was at the end of his junior year of high school, Brandon his sophomore year. Brandon had left for morning football practice, and Robert was barely ever home. He was always out, running around with Monica or at school. When he did come home, it was late, and all of us were already in bed. Brandon found a place on the football team and trained for it all year round. He was trying to get a football scholarship. Anyways, that morning, I’d made Amy pancakes and went to wake her up…” A choked sob left Donna then, and she reached for a tissue, dabbing her eyes. “I opened her door and called her name, but she didn’t stir like she normally would.”
A sound came from Hayes then, and Donna was blubbering again.
“S-she was dead, and the week before, she had been sick with a nasty case of the flu. Her autopsy report came back clean, and for the longest time, my husband and I assumed she passed from a complication.”
“But?” Dominic pressed after ten seconds.
“Brandon told me the truth,” she whispered as she looked up to me. “He told me the truth and I didn’t believe him. He told me Robert was a monster. Robert thought Amy was a mistake and that she needed to be corrected. Brandon told me Robert killed her, smothered her with a pillow. Brandon told me he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and saw Amy’s door open. He saw Robert standing over her, holding a pillow over her face. He said that she was kicking and trying to fight. When I asked him why he didn’t try to save her, his response chilled me to the bone. He told me he didn’t want his brother to kill him too.”
A chill settled over the room as my gut twisted.
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?” I clipped harshly, not having any sympathy for her.
She glared at me. “Robert’s my son.”
“And Amy was your fucking daughter,” I shot back. “Or did you not care for your other two children? Hm?"
She said nothing, looking away as she wiped one of her tears.
“Grayson,” Hayes warned.
“Keep going, Donna,” Dominic ordered coldly.
Over the next few minutes, Donna’s story turned into an actual nightmare, and by the time she was done, Robert Hale wasn’t only just Carrie’s monster, but a monster to the entire Midwest.
Carrie wasn’t just married to an abusive, sexiest asshole.
Carrie had been married to a serial killer.