25. Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-five
Wyatt
He's had her for three days. It took me that long to find him. Tabor isn't someone who people try to form ties with. Even the loners in this business leave him alone. People didn't enjoy working with him to begin with, but after I’m finished with him, he's lucky to get work at all. It doesn't surprise me at all that a man like Adrian would hire him. They have similar principles.
Maybe I shouldn't have gone as hard with teaching Tabor a lesson as I did, but what he did to that kid and the nanny couldn't go unpunished. There are jobs where violence like that is part of the plan; I don't take them, but those jobs exist. I refuse to work with people who are willing to hurt kids. It's unnecessary. There is no reason for kids to get hurt. People like Tabor work those jobs on purpose. They want to cause the most depraved pain possible for anyone they can reach. I couldn't let it go. I used him to make a point.
I don't regret dragging him through the coals the way I did, but I do regret what’s happening right now because of it. Tabor doesn’t deserve a place of power over people. I probably shouldn't expect people to live up to my morals, but he went off script and jeopardized the job. He would have destroyed me and my reputation with it, but I put a stop to it. The only way to stop men like him is to destroy them, force them to their knees, and leave them there to suffer in their own shit.
Even after doing everything in my power to ensure that he'd never work a decent job again, I still can't think about that kid without nausea and rage. I know Tabor has skulked around behind me ever since then, but that's all he's been able to do. No one, including me, would give him the opportunity to do more. Until now.
Men like Tabor?mean, short-sighted men? are predictable. They don't plan jobs, they do what they're told in the most cruel way they possibly can and collect the money at the end. If you put a man like that in the driver's seat of a job, he will do the most basic, B movie villain things he can think of and he will genuinely consider himself a criminal mastermind. They're the kind of men who will tie people up in the meat freezer in the back of the butcher shop because that's what the bad guys in movies do. Tabor doesn't have Larken in a meat locker, but he did something just as predictable. He's keeping her in a shed.
Leaving your charge in a shed or garage or any separate building leaves too much room for things to go awry. Your charge could escape and run in the middle of the night when you're snug as a bug in your bed. They could get free of their restraints and mess around with the things that you may have carelessly left out in the open in the shed and burn it down with them still inside, a multi-level tragedy. Or, they could get free and find something to attack you with when you come back to check on them. People who are afraid and desperate can make weapons out of a lot of things.
Larken is most definitely desperate and afraid, but she isn't what is romanticized as a final girl or a last girl. She's strong, I'm not doubting that for a moment. The fact that she's still alive after all this proves that she's strong enough to endure the worst. That's a different kind of strength, though. The strength to last is much different than the type of strength that leads you to burn down a building while you're in it, or to kill your captor with something you find laying around in your cell. Larken's strength is softer than that and that's why I'm completely and unreservedly terrified for her.
Tabor will ruin her. If I don't get there in time to stop it, he will ruin her in the worst possible ways and make sure she lives through it. He'll do it for the sole purpose of taking something from me. He doesn't know that I care about her or that I'm going to keep her, all he knows is that she's a job that I've taken and he will do anything to try to professionally hurt me the way I hurt him. If he can use her to prove to the world that I'm incompetent or show that I'm just as fallible as he is, he will do it in the most vile ways he can. I cannot allow that to happen to Larken.
My god. It's not even secluded. There's no tree cover. No artificial blinds. Nothing. Not even a privacy fence. Just a high-end shed a few feet away from the back door. Tabor couldn't possibly be this stupid. This is careless. Unless it's on purpose, but even then it would still be ridiculous.
I have every reason to believe that Larken is in that shed. I've been watching since mid-morning. He's been inside a few times, carrying food once and always coming out smiling. I can't think about that smile right now. I can't afford to dwell on the possible reasons behind it. I can't act with an emotional reaction running in front of me, and it is extremely important that I be able to think clearly this evening. I always anticipate walking into the worst possible scenario, but this time, this one time, I am going to allow myself the tiniest spark of hope. I have to.
There are no windows for me to break into. There only real door faces the back door of the house. There’s a roll-up garage door taking up the other side of the shed, but that’s going to be useless in this situation. I am beyond grateful that there are no dogs. I don't like dealing with dogs any more than I like dealing with women or children. Dogs can't help what humans train them to do. I don't see any cameras, either. That doesn't mean there aren't any, it just means that I don't see them.
It has occurred to me that the safest way to get her out of here is to just put a friendly little bullet through Tabor's skull when he makes his next trip to the shed. The only thing stopping me is the off chance that she isn't actually in there. I need to find her quickly, and if I kill him in the ten or so paces it takes him to get to the shed and she isn't in there, then I'll have to spend however much time finding her. If she isn't in there, I'll wait for him to come back and he will tell me where he's keeping her, one way or another. If she's in there, I can get her out and to safety, then I'll come back and kill him. That will give me a reason to smile. I might even whistle on my way home.
I wait until after Tabor makes his next visit to the shed to make a move. It's dark out now, and the cold of the season is finally setting in strongly. I've been watching the house from a backyard a few houses away. It was very lucky to find a house with a ’For Sale’ sign in front that was close enough to Tabor's. I've been able to step inside the small greenhouse to get out of the wind and chill as I've needed to. Very convenient. And it just works to showcase Tabor's inadequacies. Or his obvious arrogance. Or mine. It wasn't extremely difficult to find him and it has been even less difficult to watch him come and go all day. I suppose I'll just have to wait and see which it will be when I go in for Larken.
I tilt my head from side to side to pop the tension from my neck and roll my shoulders, then I work through the neighboring backyards to get to the shed, sticking to large structures, trees, and shrubs as they're available. I wait for three full minutes at the edge of Tabor's property before stepping onto it in case there are cameras after all. When nothing happens, I creep to the door of the shed.
Tabor doesn't burst from the house to attack me, so I try the door. It's unlocked. The same caution I've been feeling grows louder. Is it arrogance on his part or mine? Why would he leave the door unlocked? This is either lunacy or idiocy.
Nothing happens when I walk through the door. There are no cameras blinking from the corners. There are many, many brown cardboard boxes lining the shelves and a god awful fluorescent light blaring from the ceiling. There is also a box fan in the far corner blasting at full speed; which is odd considering the season.
I wait just one more moment before I walk fully into the space. If Tabor hasn't come out to stop me by now, he likely won't; but time has taught me to remain cautious no matter the circumstances. I take two steps forward, just enough to be able to see around the shelves against the wall, and freeze when I see the end of a dog crate sticking out from between yet another set of shelves. I don't hear anything. No nails tapping or scrabbling, no low growl, no dog tags jingling that would indicate I'm about to have my leg gnawed off.
I wait, unmoving, for a few seconds more. No dog comes exploding out of the crate to bark or bite so I continue into the middle of the shed. My eyes automatically go to the crate. Just because I don't hear a dog doesn't mean there isn't one. Then I see her.