Chapter 41 #2
I unwrap the pies and pull out a tray from Noah’s bottom cabinet, then place the pies onto the tray and slide it into the oven.
It won’t hurt them to be inside as the oven preheats.
I set my timer for an hour and return to Callie, who’s standing in the family room watching me with a shocked expression.
Noah’s got Shane halfway down the hallway to his special room.
“Did you just put a pie in the oven?”
“Two pies, actually. One’s a snack for us—the apple pie—and one’s a snack for Shane. A mince pie.”
“I love mince pie.”
“Jesus fuck. Of course you do.” I swear under my breath and glance to the ceiling. “Listen to me: You can never have these mince pies.”
“Why?” She scoffs and plants her hands on her hips.
“Damn, Wes.” Noah chuckles and calls from down the hall. “You found the one woman who loves mince pie?”
“This mince pie is not for eating,” I try to explain, keeping my voice down so Shane doesn’t hear.
“You drug your mince pies?” Her eyes widen. “Yeah, of course you do.”
“Mmmmm let’s go with that.” I cringe. Callie doesn’t ask follow up questions, thankfully.
“Come on. We’ve got things to discuss.” Noah calls.
I grab Callie’s hand, and we watch Noah pull Shane feet-first into the room with only the smallest of bumps on his head on the doorframe.
My brother’s restraint is impressive. Once inside, I help Noah lift Shane up and secure him to a heavy chair in the middle of the room.
Duct tape is child’s play, and I won’t tarnish my love for zip ties by using them, so Noah pulls out handcuffs and takes care of Shane’s ankles and wrists.
Our prisoner’s eyes are wide and crazed as he looks between the three of us, grunting and whimpering and trying to say something.
The room is bright from recessed lighting in the ceiling, but no daylight gets in.
Noah did a ton of work soundproofing this room by sealing the window and covering it with black-out curtains, adding an extra layer of drywall all around, and installing heavy-duty and easy-to-clean floors.
The door to the room is thick and seals completely, plus there are multiple locks on both the inside and the outside of the door.
No one from the outside would be able to hear a thing that’s happening in here, which has proven unfortunate for more than one person.
This room should terrify anyone not on Noah’s good side.
“Shane told me he fucked up a cocaine shipment and owed shitloads of money to Jones.” Callie crosses her arms and glares at him.
I love seeing her confidence come back now that her torturer is handcuffed to my brother’s murder chair.
“And Jones demanded more money. Not that it excuses what he did, but it at least explains it a bit.”
Shane screams under the duct tape. Not sure why he cares that she’s telling his secrets, but he seems to.
“No excuse.” I shake my head. “But there’s more to the story.
This is going to be hard to hear.” I turn to Callie and put my hands on her biceps.
“We’re pretty sure that Shane is not only the asshole who stole your mother’s ring and withheld a divorce from you to scam you out of your father’s inheritance and probably planned to kill you just now, but we think that Shane is also Joe Killer. ”
Callie looks at me, confused, as she processes what I just shared. That information would be traumatic for anyone to hear about their spouse, even a soon-to-be ex. Her face scrunches as she tries to understand.
“The—the guy you were looking for in New York?” She looks at Noah, who nods. “The one who’s killed a bunch of homeless girls?”
“Yeah.”
Callie’s face drains of all color as she turns to Shane, pulling out of my grasp. Shane’s shouting intensifies, and he looks even angrier than before. He makes eye contact with Callie and shakes his head violently.
“While you were with Shane at the diner on Friday, Noah was busy getting a tracker on Joe Killer’s car.”
“Okay. And you also got a tracker on Shane’s car the night before, right?” Callie looks back and forth between us. I can almost hear her brain working and making connections, but something’s stopping her from connecting the dots, just like what happened to me. Logic and sanity, probably.
“Yeah. That car is currently parked a few blocks away from the fight club in New York City.” Noah taps on his phone, then holds it up showing the tracking app and a blue dot blinking to indicate the location of Shane’s car.
His other car.
“Okay. But—how does that make him Joe Killer??”
“Because he’s driving Joe Killer’s car,” I say. “When we were driving here, we knew Joe Killer had you. Shane must have two cars. He uses one as Joe Killer, and one as himself.” I reach over and take Callie’s hand. We all ignore Shane freaking out a few feet away in the chair.
“He was going to kill me,” she says with horrified wonder. “Which I knew back in the barn, I guess… he was going to either get me to transfer him the money and then kill me, or just kill me and claim the money as my spouse.”
“Probably,” Noah says with a casual nod.
We’re all silent for a moment. I stare at Callie and wait for her to process. Shane struggles in the background, and I’m really tempted by the baseball bat and pie back in the kitchen.
“Are you okay, Calliope?” I ask quietly.
She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I think it should be up to you what happens next,” Noah says. “And that should be that he dies.”
“No way.” I shake my head and glare at my brother. “We can’t put that on Callie. We already know what we do with men like him.”
“He’s still technically my husband,” Callie says, and both Noah and I turn to her. “I should get to decide.”
I squint my eyes shut for a beat. I can’t let her take this burden on. She doesn’t want this. She said it a million times. We can’t turn her into a murderer. She didn’t want this life.
I need to protect her from this.
“Shut the fuck up!” I growl at Shane, who hasn’t stopped making noise. Jesus, he’s annoying as shit.
“Why don’t we discuss it back in the kitchen?” Noah gestures out of the room. “I don’t need to hear this nonsense.”