Chapter Twenty-Four

Seven

They came in the dark.

The three of them were dressed in all black gear, masks, and gloves. They surrounded the house, looking for any weakness in the structure. Ice shot out every bit of light that filtered into the general area and Fisher found a way inside through a loose screen on a back bedroom window.

Going in first, Seven stood still, his eyes trained on the open bedroom door while he waited for the other two to join him. He kept his gaze forward after sweeping the room. Thoughts of what his baby sister had gone through before she was killed kept him from looking toward the bed after that first once-over.

Fisher was last inside, and rather than slip the window closed, he left it open to avoid any additional noise.

Seven stepped silently into the hallway and moved toward the main area of the house, constantly searching, eyes moving, gun aimed. Fish checked the two other rooms behind them.

Ice stayed on Seven’s six.

A floorboard creaked under Seven’s foot and he stilled. Balancing on his other foot, he stepped closer to the wall. Each step took him closer to the room where a flicker from a low murmuring television set could be seen.

When they reached the living room, a man sprang out of a recliner and ran from the room.

Lunging after whom he assumed to be Lark, Seven entered a narrow, filthy kitchen just as a door off to one side slammed shut.

“Must be the basement,” Ice said.

Was that where he’d killed Lisa? Bile rose in Seven’s throat and he stalked to the door. He kicked it in. Wood chips blasted the air and the knob fell to the floor with a crack.

Seven aimed the gun at an empty staircase.

Snick.

Ice shot out the glowing bulb in the basement stairwell, leaving only the kitchen lights for visibility —Seven shot his friend a look that said you’re being absurd.

Ice shrugged, aiming his Glock at the darkened set of stairs.

Seven jerked his head, indicating Ice to shoot out the kitchen one then.

Ice rolled his eyes and reached over and flipped the switch on the wall, sending the room into darkness.

Because the stairs were built into the house and not freestanding, they afforded some protection in case the fucker had a gun, but searching the basement became a harder task. They had no way of knowing if the fucker had an escape route or hiding place.

No matter, he’d find him, it was only a matter of time. Gesturing with a jerk of his head, Seven sent Ice left while he went right.

Even in the dark, it was easy to see the messy room that stretched the length of the house above. Old, rickety metal shelves held boxes filled with junk and what couldn’t fit in the boxes spilled out onto the shelves and floor. The air was filled with the smell of rot and mold, but his hooded mask somewhat muffled the stench.

The noise coming from straight ahead was so slight that if he’d been making noise himself, he would have missed it. A shoe shuffle; either someone was sitting with their knees pulled closer or the guy was edged up against something he blended in with, but that had been a shoe shuffle.

Ice was quiet, so quiet that Seven couldn’t even hear the guy. And upstairs, Fisher was equally silent with whatever he was doing. Maybe Fisher was down here with them.

Seven stilled and sank into the darkest shadows nearby, shadows that surrounded him—and he waited with a razor-sharp focus for the predator to move.

Come on, you motherfucker, just move one more time and I’ll have you.

Death wasn’t coming, death was here.

Thoughts of what he’d do ran through his mind over and over.

He could keep still for far longer periods than this; in fact, doing this was his specialty. He could wait for hours, sometimes days, in the dark to get his quarry. And there it was, a slight shift of a shoulder and Seven was able to make out the man’s whole form.

Without hesitation, Seven launched across the distance and delivered a punch to the man’s head.

“Ah,” the guy cried out and crashed back into the shelf he’d been hiding by. Seven grabbed the back of the guy’s neck and fisted his shirt before powerlifting him up and away from the shelf. Once free from his hiding spot, Seven slammed the man to the floor. Boxes broke apart when the blubbering fucker landed and rolled with a thud.

“What do you want?” the guy cried out. “I don’t have money!”

Breathing hard, rage clouded Seven’s vision.

Ice was at his side but didn’t interfere.

Clenching and unclenching his hands, Seven thought about his next move.

They had to find proof.

Without a word, Seven yanked the fucker to his feet and shoved him toward the stairs.

Ice stepped in then and pulled the man’s arm halfway up his back. The guy moved to his toes, trying to relieve the pressure. Ice marched the guy up the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the living room where Fisher stood.

Ice slammed the guy down on the couch and stood over his huddled form.

Fisher nodded to an open laptop.

With his heart in his throat, Seven moved to the screen. Several shots of naked children were displayed, and three of them were of Lisa.

He looked away, sickened, and closed his eyes before snapping them open.

“You want me to delete them?” Fisher said quietly.

“Just Lisa,” Seven said. No traces of Lisa could be found on that laptop, as it would lead back to him or even Joshua.

“Wipe the place down,” Seven nodded to the sofa.

While Fisher removed all evidence of Lisa, Ice proceeded to wipe the place of any fingerprints where Joshua told them he’d sat or touched. Ice took the water glass that Josh had used into the kitchen.

Seven reached down and yanked the man to his feet and shoved him into the recliner.

Ice sprayed and wiped the couch and coffee table completely.

“What’s your name?” Seven said, twisting the silencer on his Glock.

The man stayed silent and Seven pointed the gun at the guy’s head.

“Bill Lark!”

Fisher came back into the room and went over to Lark’s chair.

“Uncle Lark?” Fisher placed a gun beneath the man’s chin, forcing his head up.

“Yes!”

“Why was my sister’s naked picture on your laptop?” Seven choked out.

“It’s not my laptop!”

“Then whose is it?” Seven growled, and Fisher eased the gun away from Lark’s neck.

Lark clammed up, gripping the arms of the recliner. Fisher made a sound of annoyance, tucked his gun away, and clamped a hand over Lark’s mouth. The blade at Fisher’s side was out and in seconds, he cut off the guy’s finger. Lark’s scream echoed through the room. Blood spurted from the nub of what was left of his finger over the armrest and trickled down the cracked faux leather.

Fisher released the guy’s mouth and Lark cradled the injured hand to his chest, eyes wide with fear as he watched Fisher toy with the knife in his hands. Sweat trickled down Lark’s face and then the child molester pissed himself.

Seven saw the exact moment the guy realized the predicament he was in.

“I don’t know why I do the things I do,” Lark babbled, blubbering. “I’m sick, man. I try to stop, but I’m sick.”

“So, you rape them and then kill them to keep them quiet,” Seven said, his voice flat and deadly.

Lisa’s bruised and battered body flashed through his mind, and Seven knew that all the children on that man’s computer had either suffered and were still alive or Lark had murdered them.

Lark hesitated, but then nodded. “I need to be locked up, man.”

“You two need to leave,” Seven told Ice and Fisher, with his eyes on Lark.

“Want me to do it?” Fisher offered, walking to the laptop to tap the keys with gloved hands. When they left this place, they’d leave no trace they were ever there.

Seven shook his head. “No.”

“Don’t leave me with him!” Lark screamed, locked with terror in the chair.

That’s right, you sick fuck, squirm, Seven thought as he waited for Fisher to finish at the laptop.

Fisher flipped the laptop so Lark had a good view of the flashing pictures of children. When the cops found Lark’s body, they’d find the evidence.

Without a word, both men headed back down the hallway to exit the way they’d come in.

Ending Lark’s reign of terror on children wouldn’t bring Lisa back, but it sure the fuck made him feel like he was doing the world a favor.

Snick, snick.