Shadow of Vengeance (6 page)

While the pledge chewed, he turned to Junior and ushered her toward the ladder. As she climbed the rungs, he doused the battery-powered lantern, and flooded the basement with utter darkness.
 

“We’ll see you after dinner. I promise to bring you something more substantial than toast.” He smiled. “I hear maggots are quite high in protein.”
 

Chapter 3

Owen stood in the hallway of Dixon Medical Center, holding a Styrofoam cup filled with the worst coffee he’d ever tasted, and stared at Sean’s closed hospital room door. Knowing Rachel the way he did, he’d declined visiting with her brother until she’d had the chance to see him first. He hadn’t missed the relief in her eyes, or the way her body had relaxed when he’d lied about needing to find some caffeine.
 

Despite her strong aversion to him, he’d come to know and understand her. Mensa smart, she could crack computer codes, create her own programs, and hack into just about anything. Unlike most of the ultra brainy people he’d known, she actually had a high amount of common sense, too. When it came to the social skills department, though, she tended to be… unusual.
 

The youngest child of four, and the only boy, he’d learned the mysterious inner workings of the female psyche at an early age. His sisters had taken it upon themselves to make him the model male. They had taught him when to shut up and when to listen. That, when a woman asks how she looks, you never say, “fine.” Even if the woman simply looks “fine,” he should always find one thing to compliment. While they hadn’t schooled him on how to deal with the rollercoaster of emotions females might experience, growing up with a gaggle of girls, he’d learned on his own that what makes one woman tick, will make another tock.
 

Computers made Rachel tick. Her brother and their coworkers made her tick, along with pencils, popcorn, Diet Coke, her El Camino and, strangely enough, hip hop and classical music. For whatever reason, he made her tock. Maybe, like a lot of women he’d met over the years then immediately steered away from, she preferred the brooding badass—a term that, with the exception of himself, would sum up all the men who worked for CORE. While he could be a badass when necessary, brooding wasn’t his style. Dwelling on the shit life throws at you, then acting all dark and menacing over it, didn’t work for him.
 

Living in the past only hinders the future.

Still, after spending six hours in the car with Rachel, he’d thought that
maybe
they’d actually have a decent, civil conversation. Instead, she’d kept her nose buried in her laptop while chomping away at a pencil. And that was fine. Just because they worked together didn’t mean they had to be friends. Only…

Shoving off the wall, he went in search of a garbage can. Now wasn’t the time to evaluate or even begin to try and process why in the hell he couldn’t stop thinking about her lately. She didn’t even like him.

But you like her.

He did, but couldn’t figure out why. She chewed pencils, drove a tricked out car, probably couldn’t go to a party or a bar without having a panic attack, and had to be the most abrasive creature he’d ever met. And yet he looked forward to hearing her voice when he was stuck on assignment, loved the way she challenged and mocked him. Unlike most women, she didn’t care about his looks, and was immune to his charm.
 

Dumping the nasty coffee into the trash, he shook his head. He needed to have sex. That’s all. Except for his mom and sisters, over the last six months, Rachel had been the only other constant woman in his life. After this case, when they were back in Chicago, he’d have to look up and hook up with one of the women he would date now and then. Angelica came to mind. A beautiful model with long blonde hair, longer legs, and bedroom eyes, she’d take his mind off Rachel.
 

“Owen?”

He turned, and guilt sucker-punched him in the gut. How could he consider using Angelica to help him overcome his urge to explore something with Rachel?
 

Bloodshot and red-rimmed from crying, her green eyes appeared greener. Her short, spiky red hair was even spikier, as if she’d been yanking it from the roots. While already vertically challenged, with the way she stood, shoulders slumped and hugging herself, she looked even smaller, almost fragile.

“Hey, how’s your brother?” he asked, and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from hauling her into his arms and taking the heavy weight off of her shoulders.

“Way better than I expected. He’s hoping you’ll stop in and see him before we leave to meet the sheriff.”

“Of course,” he said, and followed her into Sean’s hospital room.
 

When he saw the kid lying on the bed, his nose broken, eyes and cheeks bruised, lips swollen and split, he tried to mask the anger pounding his skull. He didn’t want to amplify Rachel’s concerns and grief, or upset Sean during his recovery. But as he glanced at the kid’s broken arm, then again at his bruises, the anger he’d been reining in morphed to both dread and relief. While his heart went out to the family of the missing roommate, he thanked God that Sean hadn’t been the one to suffer the kidnapper’s version—whatever that might be—of Hell Week. Based on Sean’s injuries, he could only imagine what fate the other boy would suffer over the course of the next seven days.

After he cleared his throat, he said, “How you doing, kiddo?”

“I’ve had better days,” Sean answered with a smile, then winced and touched the stitches binding his split lip.

Rachel moved to her brother’s side and smoothed his red hair off his forehead. “Try not to talk, laugh or smile. Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t move at all.”

“So you want me to just lie here.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“What about when I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh, do you have to go now?” she asked and reached for a bedpan. “Here, let me help you.”

A blush stained Sean’s face making him look like a bruised tomato. “I don’t have to go now. I’m just saying…” He glanced at Owen. “A little help, please?”

“You don’t need his help,” Rachel said. “I not only used to change your diapers, but I also potty trained you.”

“Oh my God, Ray,” Sean said. “I mean, seriously?”

The poor kid had suffered enough, and although he might catch backlash from Rachel, Owen decided to put Sean out of his misery. His sisters had changed his diapers, too. And they still loved to remind him of that disgusting and embarrassing fact. “I’m on Sean’s side,” he said, then looked to the kid. “But your sister is right. You do need to take it easy. I wouldn’t be getting out of this bed unless a nurse is here to help you.”
 

“I know. I guess I won’t be doing much of anything for a while.”

“That’s right,” Rachel said, reached for the cup of water on the bed tray, then pressed the straw to Sean’s lips. “Here, drink.”

He turned his head away. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Are you hungry? I can have the nurse—”

“I’m fine,” Sean said, his tone laced with frustration. “Would you please stop fussing over me?”

“Well, you don’t look fine. Actually, you look like shit. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting as if I’m torturing you. I’ve been worried sick. I just want to make sure…what is it?” she asked when Sean’s face contorted and his eyes filled with tears.

He clenched his jaw. “Torture. That’s what’s going to happen to Josh.”

Owen met her gaze from across the hospital bed, then he looked to Sean. “Did the sheriff tell you about Josh?”

“Sheriff? No, I haven’t met him yet. I was either still unconscious or doped up on pain meds until about an hour ago.”

“Then how did you know about Josh?” Rachel asked.

He reached for his sister’s hand. As a tear slipped down his bruised cheek, he asked, “Has anyone found him?”

“No, honey, he’s missing.”

Sean rolled his head against the pillow and looked away. “Right now he’s just missing. By the end of the week, he’ll be dead.”

Rachel touched Sean’s shoulder. “How do you know this?”

“I…I thought the guys at the Zeta house were full of crap.” Tears coated this cheek, and hit the pillow. “So did Josh. But they were right…they were right.”

“Right about what?” Rachel asked.

Sean finally looked at her. “Every few years, a pledge is taken and never seen again. The guys at the Zeta house said the pledge is considered a sacrifice. You know, kinda like an offering.”

Rachel gently dabbed a tissue along her brother’s wet cheeks. “An offering to what?”

“Hell Week.”

*

Even the Lexus’s seat warmer couldn’t stop the shiver of dread splintering through Rachel’s body. What had happened to her brother could have been much worse. He could, like Josh, be missing. Maybe tortured. Maybe dead.
 

As Owen drove away from the hospital—which, in her opinion, was more like an urgent care center—she reached into her computer bag for a pencil. “When I was researching during the drive here, I came across a blog, written and maintained by Wexman students. In it, Wexman Hell Week was listed as a local legend, right next to Bigfoot and UFO sightings.”

“Legend?” Owen repeated with sarcasm. “Fact: People have been going missing for twenty years. That’s not a legend. That could be the work of a serial killer.”

“I don’t disagree. But, not one body has ever been recovered, and other than the missing persons, and the notes left behind, I couldn’t find any other evidence of foul play. Plus, people commented on this blog, as well as other websites, that some of the alleged missing people have been spotted throughout the years. Not in Bola, but I found reports in Florida, Ohio, California and Alaska.”

“Yeah, and were these missing persons seen hanging out with Bigfoot, too?”

She half-laughed. “Right. Maybe having a beer with the Jersey Devil while the Mothman served them chips and salsa.”

He chuckled, then grew serious. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. When she’d seen Sean lying in the hospital bed, it had taken everything to keep her cool. Her brother’s injuries and knowing that he could have, like Josh, been abducted and still missing, had had her on the verge of a mental and emotional meltdown. For Sean’s sake, she’d kept herself together and had shed only a few tears. But when she’d walked into the hospital hallway and saw Owen…she’d had the sudden urge to jump into his strong arms and bawl like a baby.
 

Never in her life had she been able to depend on someone else’s strength to help her overcome a situation. Thanks to her flaky mother, she’d always had to play that role. Today, she wished she could have leaned on Owen. Pretend he hadn’t kissed her, that he hadn’t hurt her. While she might consider him the bottom feeder of the dating pool, she knew, deep down, that he was a straight up, good and decent man. He cared about his job, their coworkers, and when it came to the cases he investigated, each victim, as well as their families. Still, telling Owen the truth or even giving him a hint that she was currently experiencing some major emotional turmoil wasn’t an option. Ian had given her lead on this case. Like the men on the CORE team, she needed to exhibit nothing but strength, especially if she wanted the opportunity for more field assignments.

“Although it might make our job easier, a part of me is relieved Sean doesn’t remember what happened to him and Josh Saturday night,” Owen said, then obeyed the GPS and turned right.

“I know what you mean. I asked his doctor if they’d done anything with his blood work.
 
He already ordered a tox screen, and said he’d call when he had something for us.”

“How big is Josh Conway?”

She rubbed her temple and brought Josh’s image to mind. “He and Sean are the same height, but Josh probably has Sean by about thirty or so pounds. My guess is six foot, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds.”

“Six foot? I didn’t realize Sean was that tall. No offense, but what happened to you?”

“I know. Sean’s all arms and legs, and walks slumped. If only Sean’s dad had been my sperm donor. I could have been five five or even five seven.”

He chuckled. “Height is overrated.”

“Says the giant to the dwarf.”

“Whatever. Okay, so you’ve got two young guys, who aren’t small…one is kidnapped, the other is beaten and has no recollection of events. If they were drugged—”

“They had to be. How else could someone take the two of them without a fight? And Sean said he doesn’t remember anything after leaving the dorms.”

“Okay,” he began, obeyed the GPS again and made another turn. “Sean said the last thing he does remember was eating pizza and—”

“Drinking a crap load of Mountain Dew.”

“Do you have to finish my sentences?”

“Sorry, bad habit. Anyway, let’s run with this. Specifically the Mountain Dew. What drug could be placed into a liquid, you can’t taste it, and it makes you totally black out?”

“Rohypnol.”

“The date rape drug. I’ve got to make sure Sean’s doctor has their lab check for Rohypnol or anything similar.” She quickly dialed the hospital and spoke with Sean’s doctor.
 

As she ended the call, Owen pulled into the parking lot of a standalone, two story, brick building. While he parked the Lexus, and the GPS let them know they’d arrived, he said, “Hopefully that bottle of Mountain Dew is still in the dorm room. If whoever took Josh and hurt Sean had used the soda as a vessel for the drug, they might have left fingerprints behind.”