Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
NOVA
The girls haven’t yet grasped the concept that they won’t be staying here—it’s a crime scene.
Upstairs didn’t hold any clues about his victims, but I’m convinced that I’ll find a plethora of it down here in the dugout basement.
Not many homes in Texas have cellars of any kind, it has something to do with the red dirt and the fact that it doesn’t pack right to construct them—it’s crumbly and unforgiving.
The ones that do have them aren’t officially reported because they’re frowned upon by the building inspectors who are known to condemn them because they can fall in on themselves and turn into nothing but rubble.
I shake my head and clear that thought because right now, how he managed to keep this level from being discovered by the state doesn’t matter.
What does is the fact that there are more victims out there that we haven’t uncovered seeing as these girls are in their late teens or early twenties.
How long has this piece of shit been kidnapping and murdering women?
And why has nobody seen the signs or connected the missing person reports?
When the oldest of the two comes in, dragging her feet, her face is stoic and she has her lips tucked in between her teeth.
Me moving furniture around must’ve triggered her, and I need to figure out how to get through to her, because if not, Stella could pay the price for it.
There’s been enough death at their father’s hands and his reign of terror needs to come to a stop.
The only way that can happen is if his daughters cooperate with me.
Saying what she perceives as her name makes me sick to my stomach, but I do it anyway because I need her to stay focused on me and what I have to tell her. “Girl One, what do you know about your father?”
She sends me the evil eye, but outside of that, she says nothing.
“Alright, if that’s the game you want to play, I’ll do all of the talking.
” She still doesn’t say anything, not even a hum escapes her lips in response.
It’s frustrating, but in a way, I get it.
She hasn’t yet seen the light, but when I finish talking, she will.
She’s fixing to get one helluva wakeup call.
“You may already suspect this, but your father is a serial killer.”
“What’s that?” Girl Two peers around the corner, staying far enough back that she isn’t in the room, but we can see and hear her.
“A serial killer?” I ask for clarification.
“Yes,” she sheepishly answers, biting her bottom lip.
Internally sighing, I try to come up with a rational explanation that’s easily understood, because whereas these girls are smart as a whip and digest things they see and hear, they are ignorant when it comes to things you learn while roaming the streets.
My instincts screaming at me that they’d rather read the definition straight from the internet, I pull out my phone and look the term up.
When I find one on Wikipedia, and scan over it, I’m satisfied that the words they use are clear and easy to interpret.
Girl One audibly reads it out loud to her sister.
“A serial killer, also called a serial murderer, is an individual who murders three or more people, with the killings taking place over a period of more than one month in three or more separate events. Their psychological gratification is the motivation for the killings, and many serial murders involve sexual contact with the victims at different points during the murder process. The Federal Bureau of Investigation states that the motives of serial killers can include anger, thrill-seeking, attention seeking, and financial gain, and killings may be executed as such. The victims tend to have things in common, such as demographic profile, appearance, gender, or race. As a group, serial killers suffer from a variety of personality disorders. They are often not adjudicated as insane under the law. Although a serial killer is a distinct classification that differs from that of a mass murderer, spree killer, or contract killer, there are overlaps between them.”
“That’s what you think our father is?” Girl Two asks, her face gaunt with sadness. “I don’t know what all those words mean, but I’m getting the picture that it isn’t anything good.”
“It’s not,” I digress. “And I do think that’s what your father is and so do others.
” The girls share a look I can’t decipher, but I have a feeling they’re coming to the same conclusion we all have.
He’s a mass murderer. “We have tied five disappearances and killings to him so far, and I have a feeling there’s more out there that we haven’t been able to tie to him as of yet, but eventually, we will. ”
“There’s more. Many more,” Girl One whispers.
“Ten that I can count,” Girl Two says, mumbling the number through her trembling lips.
“More than that,” Girl One states, squaring her shoulders. “He has a book he keeps that has names and dates in it. I didn’t know what it meant when I found it, but I think it may hold all of his secrets.”
“Can you get that for me?” I ask, trailing behind her as she swivels on her feet and marches over to the crawl space.
“Father keeps it in the pit, behind a loose block. I found it one time when he locked me inside,” Girl One replies
“He locks you in there?” I query, appalled on her behalf.
“When we’ve displeased him, it’s where he puts us until he thinks we’ve learned our lesson,” Girl Two tells me. “It gets really dark and is spooky. I don’t like it when he puts me there.”
I can imagine it is eerie and she doesn’t like being in there.
I’m a grown ass man and I would have issues being locked in that pocket-sized room.
He already keeps them in a dreary cell down in the basement where he locks them in, but he apparently couldn’t resist adding a layer of torture that is deplorable—even for the common criminal.
I live in a world full of gray shading with a little hue of color mixed in, but even I have my standards and would never do that to an innocent woman.
This man they call Father, lives in a world of black and has shaded their lives in the same tourmaline color.
I watch as Girl One digs out the loose slab and tilt my head to the side when something catches my attention. As she duckwalks back out, I get down on my hands and knees and toddle my way in. “Do you know if this space has been closed in?”
“What do you mean?” Girl One questions.
“Look here,” I point out, running my finger along the edge of the wall.
It’s not only a different tinge of white, but it isn’t seamless—it’s uneven and has cracks in it, as if it was a quick job that you can clearly see wasn’t done by a professional.
“Once upon a time, this space was bigger and it’s been walled off and split up.
” I go to the missing piece that was just pulled out and put my hands inside, gripping the block beside it and yanking with all of my might.
When it falls free, I start on the next one.
And the next. I keep going like that until there’s enough room for me to slither inside.
It’s a tight fit, and it’s dark, but once my eyes adjust, I cringe.
To make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me, I grab my phone from my pocket and turn on the flashlight feature.
Fuck me, this man is one sick and twisted motherfucker.
“What’s back there?” Girl One asks, her voice reserved.
“Chains hooked to walls and blood stains on the floor,” I answer. “Girls, y’all need to pack your belongings, you won’t be staying here anymore.”
“Wait… what? This is our home, we don’t have anywhere else to go,” Girl One states, panicking.
“I’m putting y’all in a safe house,” I inform them as I begin snapping photos and sending them to both Booker and Marsten.
When the last photo is sent off, my phone begins ringing. When I glance at the screen, I see Marsten’s name flashing at me. “Marsten, it’s worse than we thought it was.”
“Talk to me,” he demands.
“You can’t just tell us to pack our things and then ignore us!” Girl One shouts. I turn around and place my finger to my lips, needing her to stay quiet long enough for me to wrap up this conversation.
“Who the fuck is that?” Marsten asks. “Do we have a survivor?”
“You are not going to believe this shit,” I announce then go into all the details regarding the girls. Once I’m done, I have to look at the screen again to make sure I didn’t lose the call. “Marsten?”
“I’m here,” he states, his tone sedate and controlled. “I’m officially hiring you, Nova.”
“As what?” I ask because I’m an independent contractor who doesn’t always follow the letter of the law.
The FBI doesn’t usually hire me for jackshit because they know I won’t follow their directives.
There’s a reason I don’t belong to any organization outside of the Kings, and that’s because they’re my brothers who have the same beliefs as me.
“The girls’ bodyguard,” he answers.
“Excuse me?” I inquire. “You want me to take them in?”
“I do, Nova. They have to stay alive and there’s nobody I trust more to make sure they stay that way than you and your club.”
“Fuck. Me. You’re not kidding, are you, Marsten?”
“I’m not. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t trust the men given to me. They had a direct line to him thanks to Booker and they lost him.”
“You think you have a mole, Marsten?”
That thought has an unsettling feeling stirring deep in my gut. If Stella wasn’t missing and all signs hadn’t pointed to him being involved, how long would these two women have continued to live in this house of horrors?
“I’m not sure what I think, Nova. But I do know that we can’t take any chances when it comes to them. I’ll be paying you out of my pocket, I can’t mark this on my budget in case there are eyes watching me that I’m unaware of.”
“I’ll keep them safe, Marsten. My house is locked down like a fortress, and is monitored twenty-four/seven by my club. If he comes looking for them at my place, he’ll be fighting for his life.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Marsten says. “Let me know when you leave so I can take my team in and gather evidence.”
“I’m not going to leave much behind,” I warn him. “I will share what I find with you, but only you and my brothers.”
“Understood, and unfortunately, I agree with that decision. I’m not going to entrust these girls’ lives with people I’m not sure I can trust with mine, Nova.”
I nod my head even though he can’t see me before stating, “I’ll keep you in the loop, but expect a delivery. I’m sending you a burner phone. It’ll be safer for us to communicate that way.”
“I’ll let you know when it arrives. Be safe, Nova.”
“I will, you do the same,” I tell him before disconnecting. Now onto my next task, convincing these girls to leave on their own accord so I don’t have to take them out of here kicking and screaming.