Chapter Twenty-Seven
Braxten
T he address Ryder gave leads us to a run-down trailer park that’s located just inside the county limits of Dalton.
Silence consumes the truck, our minds and hearts coming to terms with the fact that we are about to come face-to-face with one of the monsters from our past.
I’ve yet to tell my brothers everything that Ryder disclosed to me and I’m not sure I will. I might just keep it to myself forever because the last thing I want is to add to past traumas, and this particular information will, especially for Knox.
“There’s Craig.” Justice lifts his chin, gesturing to the squad car up ahead.
After much deliberation we decided to call Craig and fill him in, something we weren’t sure we should do.
Not because we don’t trust him, but because we know he has rules to follow.
My brothers and I don’t follow rules—never have, never will—not when it involves our family.
But Craig has always had our backs. If we ever need his resources, he doesn’t hesitate to give them to us and we just might need them again now…
Knox lowers his window as I pull up next to the cruiser.
“That one there.” Craig points to a yellow, rusted out trailer. “Not sure if anyone is home. I haven’t seen movement yet.”
“Time to find out.” I drive forward, pulling into the lot, and park in front of the tipped over steel garbage can, its contents spilled all over the place.
The three of us tuck our weapons, knowing Craig will have a fit if he sees them, then climb out.
Craig meets us around the front. “Let me do the talking. Just to start with,” he quickly adds. “You will have your turn, I promise.”
As hard as it is, I agree. “Fine, but remember, Craig, this is our fight, and we are prepared to do whatever it takes to put a stop to this.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just keep that part to yourself. I don’t want to know about it.”
Fair enough.
With that settled, we head up to the side door.
Craig knocks first, his knuckles rapping against the flimsy tin. “Mr. Topher,” he calls out, using the alias name. “This is the Sheriff’s Department. I would like to have a word with you.”
“Fuck off!” A rusty voice bellows behind the door.
Knox grunts. “That sounds like Jones, all right.”
“This won’t take long,” Craig assures him.
No answer.
I bang on the door this time, hard enough that I leave a dent. “Open the fucking door, Jones, or I’m breaking it down!”
Seconds pass before the creak of footsteps sound, the broken slats of the blinds splitting apart. Beady eyes take us in before the door swings open, revealing none other than Keith Jones, Hobbs’ second in command, one of the tormentors from our past.
He looks nothing like I remember. His tall frame is no longer bulky and threatening, but rather old and frail. What used to be a full head of brown hair is now thinning and gray. It’s as if he has aged several decades rather than just one.
Looking at him now, I can say without a doubt that he was not the person on our property last night. There’s no way. This guy in front of us couldn’t even run five steps without dying of a heart attack.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the bastards of Mississippi,” he greets arrogantly, making the blood beneath my skin simmer to a boil. “What the hell do you want?”
“Answers,” I tell him. “And we’re going to get them.”
“One way or another,” Justice adds.
A grin stretches across his aging face, showing off stained yellow teeth that look like they haven’t been brushed in months. “That so?”
“That’s right.” Craig cuts in, taking control of the conversation. “The Creeds have been getting threats for the past few weeks and last night someone trespassed onto their land. You don’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Nope, and can’t say I’m sorry to hear it either,” he says candidly. “Now, if there is nothing else, kindly get the fuck off my property.”
He begins to close the door, but I stop it with my boot, kicking it back into his face.
“Fuck!” His howl pierces the air as he covers his busted nose.
Rushing in, I grab him by the throat and throw him into the dirty recliner, pinning him there. “I’m done fucking around. I want to know who is behind this and I want to know now.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” he spits, the blood from his nose running into his mouth.
“Because whoever is doing this is someone from the group home you worked at,” Craig informs him.
“And since you just happen to live so close to us…” Justice lets the insinuation trail off.
“I didn’t even know you assholes lived near here until I saw you on the news a few months ago.”
“You’re lying.” My fingers squeeze his windpipe, cutting off his air supply. “It really wouldn’t take much for me to end your life just like this.”
“Easy, Braxten,” Craig warns.
I don’t heed it. I watch his face turn purple, thinking about all the horrible shit he and Hobbs did to so many of us. How helpless they made us feel, all because they were bigger and stronger.
Not anymore…
I lean in close, watching his bloodshot eyes bulge from his face. “The tables have turned, motherfucker…”
“That’s enough!” Craig yanks me back, forcing my grip from Jones’ throat.
The son of a bitch doubles over, sputtering and choking.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Craig snaps, getting in my face.
Knox inserts himself between us, pushing him back a step. “Back off, Clemson. We told you this is our fight.”
“Fighting and murder are two different things. We’re not going to get anywhere if he’s dead!”
“We’re not getting anywhere now,” I fire back.
“And you’re not going to,” Jones wheezes. “I’m telling you, I don’t know anything.”
“You expect us to believe that you living here is a coincidence?” Justice says, doubt laced in his voice.
“I don’t give a shit what you believe. I’m telling you you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“One of you is behind this,” I say. “If not you, then Hobbs.”
His eyes narrow at the mention of his friend. “Hobbs is dead. You three bastards know that better than anyone else.”
“Not too hard to fake a death certificate,” Craig says. “Alice was reported dead too, yet she is alive and well.”
Jones tenses, his still purple face paling. “What the hell are you talking about? What about Alice? What’s happened to her?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he cared about her. Good thing I do know better.
“She was left for dead on the Creeds’ property weeks ago,” Craig tells him, much to my dismay. “Whoever hurt her is the one doing this and she believes it’s Hobbs.”
He shakes his head. “No way. He loved her more than anyone else in the world.”
“Hobbs didn’t love anyone but himself,” I spit, unable to hide my disgust.
“You’re wrong. Alice was his pride and joy. His little princess. He gave her everything. He’d never…” His words trail off, a look of realization dawning on every feature of his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.” A rusty chuckle leaves him. “I should have known that fucker would come back one day.”
His rambling baffles me.
“Who are we talking about here?” Craig asks.
“His kid.”
“Whose?” I question, still not following.
“Hobbs.”
“Yeah, asshole,” Justice snaps. “We established that.”
Jones’ gaze lifts to my brother’s. “Not his daughter. His son.”
Shock shoots through my entire body like an electrical storm, lighting me up from the inside out. “His what?” I ask, swearing I misheard him.
“His son. Stepson, actually.”
“Bullshit,” Craig fires out, calling his bluff. “There is no mention of any other children in his history report.”
“That’s because no one knew about him.” The truth is there in his eyes.
“He was from a previous relationship Hobbs had. His mother died and the kid had no other family so Hobbs kept him. Not quite sure why since he hated him so much,” he says on a grunt.
“He tortured that poor bastard every chance he got. It’s why he kept him at the home. He was his greatest kept secret.”
“Hold up,” I cut back in. “He was at the group home?”
Jones nods.
“Who was it?” Knox asks.
“Andon Denton.”
The reveal crashes through me like an avalanche, punching all the air from my lungs. I think about that night so long ago that took place in the basement.
This entire time I thought he was like the rest of us, but he was Hobbs’ son.
“The report we have on Denton says he’s married and living in Utah,” Craig tells him, still sounding unconvinced by this story.
Jones smirks. “I’m sure it does.”
“You saying he managed to falsify police records?”
“I’m saying he’s a slick son of a bitch who knows how to cover his tracks. Trust me, if someone hurt Alice, it’s him. He resented the hell out of her, hated her for getting all of Hobbs’ love and attention.”
Find out who she is and you will find out who I am.
This is what he has hinted at all along.
That knowledge burns within, changing everything we have prepared ourselves for.
“Where was he placed after the fire?” Craig asks.
Jones shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
His expression says otherwise, but I decide it’s not important. What matters is finding out where he is now and we aren’t going to find it here.
Instead of voicing that, I leave him with a final warning. Pulling my gun, I step forward, pressing it to the center of his skull.
“Jesus christ!” Craig mutters behind me.
Ignoring it, I lean in close to Jones, making sure he sees the hate I have raging inside of me. “If I find out you’re lying about any of this, I’m going to come back here and blow your fucking brains all over this place, got it?”
His gaze narrows, but his fear is undeniable. He is no longer in control, no longer stronger, and he knows it.
“Come on, man.” Justice grabs my shoulder, pulling me away. “We’ll come back if we need.”
Backing away, I turn and head for the door, feeling Knox and Craig close behind.
“See ya around, Jones.” Knox kicks over a lamp on his way out, slamming the door in his wake.
Outside, Craig lays into us. “Do you guys think for just one fucking second you could keep your cool?”