Chapter 48
Iput pressure on the wound as crimson blossomed Jack’s shirt.
JD groaned in agony, gnashing his teeth.
The bullet had hit the edge of the shoulder strap on his vest at an angle. It deflected into his deltoid and tore through soft tissue. It was like getting hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. It had knocked the air from his lungs and likely broken his collarbone.
“Hang in there,” I said, breathless. “Looks through and through.”
“That sure stings a little,” he said in an understated tone.
“Call the sheriff!” I shouted to Paige. “Tell him officer down.”
“I don’t have his number.”
I told her, and she dialed.
Cell service was spotty at this range.
She managed to get the sheriff on the line. After a brief exchange, she put it on speaker and brought the phone to me and held it close. I told him our approximate location.
“Hang tight,” Daniels said. “The cavalry is coming.”
He notified the Coast Guard.
Paige took over for me and kept pressure on Jack’s wound.
I moved into the galley, washed my hands of the blood in the sink, then fumbled through Squad Leader’s pockets for the drive.
To my surprise, the laptop on the table still functioned. The screen glitched from time to time, and a few key caps were missing from the keyboard.
It was worth a shot. I plugged the USB drive into the port. It recognized the device. I used the trackpad to maneuver to the folder and took a look at the video files. There were several. I double-clicked one of the files and prepared for the worst.
“You hanging in there, buddy?” I shouted to Jack.
“I’m hanging.”
The keypad was hot, and the battery had started to swell. This thing wasn’t going to last much longer.
I pressed play.
Rory had captured his perverse obsessions for posterity. A camera mounted on the wall with AI tracking focused on the subjects—Rory and a beautiful young girl.
It started as harmless adult fun, then devolved into something sadistic. Once Rory’s playthings were restrained, they became unwilling participants in his wicked game. There were no safe words in this torture chamber. He did despicable things with a blowtorch and a pair of pliers to the naked girl.
Her screams were silenced only when she passed out from the pain.
It was hard to stomach.
I’d seen a lot of messed-up things, but this twisted my gut and made me feel unsettled.
The torture went on for what must have seemed like an eternity for the girl. When Rory grew bored, he finished her off with a knife. Her blood spilled onto a plastic drop cloth that had been placed in anticipation of this moment. I won’t even describe how Rory pleasured himself afterward.
These videos were trophies for Rory. A way for him to relive the experience over and over again.
The files had names and dates. I didn’t want to watch anymore, but one name jumped out at me—Kendall. The date was recent.
I took a deep breath, steeled my resolve, and double-clicked the file. I didn’t need to watch the whole thing. I knew how this, and all the others, ended.
After a few frames, it became clear this was the missing escort.
A mix of rage and sadness filled me, and my jaw clenched tight. I glared at Silas. “You saw this footage. You knew what happened to these girls, and you were just going to sell it back to Rory so he could keep doing it?”
Silas got smart. “I didn’t know what was on that drive. I just knew Rory was going to pay me a metric shit ton of money. Life changing, fuck you money.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
It would be hard to prove what Silas did or didn’t know about the contents of the drive. We had bigger fish to fry anyway.
The distant sound of rotor blades thumped the night sky. Soon, Tango One circled overhead, spotlighting the boat.
After a recon pass, the pilot angled around by the foredeck. With the tuna tower and antennas aft, there was barely enough room for the Bell 427 to hover over the long foredeck without clipping the rotors.
The ocean was relatively calm, but not flat.
It took skill and precision to attempt something like this.
The rotor wash frothed the surface of the water as the helicopter hovered just above the bow rails.
An EMT dropped down on a cable hoist amid the mists of saltwater.
He detached and hurried down the side deck and entered the salon.
His wide eyes took in the carnage.
I pointed to Jack.
He hustled to him, set his kit down, and began triage.
Paige cleaned up after the EMT took over.
“Contact Rory. Tell him you have the drive and are willing to deal. Tell him you want proof of life.”
Frazzled, she nodded and said, “Do you think Tonya’s still alive?”