Haven 1: How to Save a Life (30 page)

A minute passed, the two of them sitting side by side, Kevin’s head on Walter’s chest. Kevin breathed deep and sat up. His eyes held real fear, more than they’d had when he’d walked into the Haven the first night. “We have to find them.”

“We will. I promise you, we will.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kevin let his head fall back to the wall behind him and ignored the twinge of pain where a knot had formed from the head-slamming he’d been treated to earlier by Prescott.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Walter said from where he still sat beside Kevin on the floor of the apartment’s entryway. Exactly where he’d been since Kevin had attacked him minutes before.

God, what an idiot.

Who assaulted his lover like that?

Kevin must’ve looked like some crazed kid throwing a hissy fit, blaming the wrong person for the wrong thing.

He sighed. This wasn’t going to be good if the expression on Walter’s face was anything to go by. It held a reluctance Kevin hadn’t seen from him before.

“Just say it.”

“Gibson and I talked before we left the hospital.”

“Yeah, you said they didn’t find Prescott at his apartment.”

“Right,” Walter said. “But there was more.”

“Okay.” Kevin didn’t know why Walter hadn’t told him sooner, but maybe the ridiculous outburst from a moment before wasn’t the first time Walter had a reason to conclude Kevin was unstable.

They sat there, both staring at the opposite wall, the quiet lingering between them until Walter finally spoke again.

“They’re keeping his place under surveillance to see if he returns.”

“You don’t think he will, though?”

“I doubt it.”

“But they’re taking this seriously now?”

“Yeah. They found something at Prescott’s that helped.” Walter paused. “He had a stash of DVDs and photos. The DVDs were recordings of men. Beaten, cut, raped. And probably not the kind of thing that’s staged. It looked like amateur stuff he’d bought online.”

“He’s hurting Dylan and the others like that?”

“Probably.”

All Kevin could do was nod. Of course he’d imagined as much, but hearing it out loud was another story. His gut churned at the thought of Dylan going through something like that. “And the photos?”

“Men tied up, pretty much the same as the stuff on the DVDs. Only, Prescott was in some of those photos, so they weren’t all ones he’d purchased. They had dates on the backs. From ten years ago.”

“He’s done this before?”

“It appears that way. The dates show he had two men held captive for quite a while. Months.” Another pause. “Years, even.”

Scuff marks covered the floor before Kevin. All from his crazed outburst. He kept his gaze locked on those marks. Anything to keep from picturing what it would be like to be held captive and tortured for that long. “Years,” he repeated. “So that means Dylan and Seth and the others…they’re probably still alive.” The good news mixed in wasn’t helping quell the roll of Kevin’s stomach.

“The cops are trying to see if they can ID the men in the photos from ten years ago, but my guess is they won’t find them.”

The reason for Walter’s earlier hesitation.

“Because they’re dead,” Kevin offered.

“Possibly.” Walter didn’t say anything else for another moment. He stared at the hall wall across from them, then finally looked Kevin’s way and said, “There’s more. They think he worked with someone back then. They found a journal. Prescott kept a log from when he had them held captive. Notes about what he’d been doing to the men, not the abuse or rape, but personal-hygiene-type stuff like washing their hair and bathing them, trimming their fingernails. Disturbing details like that. The journal also mentions a man, not by name, but this man had discovered that Prescott had abducted people. Prescott had made notes about how the man approached him, blackmailed him, offered to help him hide what he was doing, not for money but to get Prescott to give him an alibi for something. Eventually it sounds like Prescott might’ve killed this guy. They think that’s when he probably killed the men he’d abducted too.” Walter leaned back against the wall and rested his forearms on his bent knees. “They’re combing through the journals to see if they can find more. It’ll take time for them to go through everything.”

Kevin examined him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“That detective you talked to at the club before we left for the hospital, he’s my pal Henderson’s partner. They’re the ones leading the investigation now.”

“What?” Kevin shook his head. “That’s an awfully big coincidence.”

“Gibson said Henderson made a big deal about him and his partner getting on the case once he learned it involved me and the Haven. I’m guessing he thinks this is his shot to embarrass me or nail me for something, maybe prove I’m involved in a cover-up since I’m helping with security. Just like you thought when you met me.”

“I never thought you were involved.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a good judge of character. I knew I could trust you right off the bat.”

“Same here.”

They held the stare between them. Then Kevin said, “I think this Henderson’s an asshole, and I don’t trust him.”

Walter smirked. “You
are
a good judge of character. Gibson said he’d do his best to keep up with the investigation and let me know what’s going on.”

Kevin nodded. “Good. But I don’t think we can let this go. We have to keep looking for Prescott on our own. Especially now that Henderson’s running things.”

“I know. He’s going to be focused on me, not what he should be looking at. I’ve been thinking, if I’m right about this all starting with someone coming after the club, then that might be our ticket to finding out where Prescott has taken the men.”

“How do you mean?”

“Let’s go with the theory that someone wants to buy the club and they hired Prescott to get to Vargas. That’s why Prescott was involved with the drugs. He’s also probably the one who’s been stealing everything. I’m guessing a guy like him has two complete personas—including two residences. One for Prescott and one for his life as the Protector. Whoever he’s working for may know how to find his other place. Come here.” Walter stood and helped Kevin do the same.

They sat at the kitchen table, and Walter spoke again. “I didn’t get a chance to show you this before we got the call about Dylan.” He handed Kevin a printout. “That company who made an offer on the club—the one with the long trail of ownership—Tucker found out that trail ends at a business that doesn’t exist. There was no record of the owners or an address, other than an offshore bank account. Tucker has a contact at the Department of Justice, and I met with him earlier tonight. That’s why I was late. He was able to track down the details.” Walter pointed to a name on the printout. Eubank Industries. “That’s the company that owns the dummy corporation. Its headquarters is located here in the city. A family business, old money.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“It did to me too. A couple of years before I left the force there was a rumor about them. That—”

Kevin snapped his fingers. “They have ties to organized crime.”

“Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“A colleague’s been following them for years. He’s writing a book about the family. I don’t know much about it, but he shared enough I got the gist.”

“Can you get in touch with him?” Walter asked.

“Yeah. But someone writing that kind of book isn’t willing to share details.” Kevin looked over the paper with the information about Eubank Industries. “I don’t get it. Why would they want the club? Isn’t that a little small-time for a company their size?”

“I don’t know why, but we’re going to find a way to track them to Prescott or to make them cooperate.”

“They won’t just tell us how to find him.”

“No,” Walter said. “But even mobsters don’t want to be linked to a serial killer if they don’t have to. They’re trying to fly under the radar. If we can tie them to him, we might have leverage to get them to talk. My guess is they hired him because he’s a local hero who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. They don’t have a clue what else he’s up to.”

That had Kevin wanting to go talk to someone at Eubank Industries now, but without anything to pressure them they wouldn’t say anything to a reporter and a former cop.

“We’ll find a way to get them to talk,” Walter added as if he sensed Kevin’s thoughts. Or maybe he just knew him well enough now. “But until then, this isn’t something I’m willing to hand over to Henderson.”

“Good call. I can head to my office and see what I can find out about Eubank Industries in the newspaper’s archives. I’ll give my friend who’s writing the book a call.” Kevin stood and got moving. He couldn’t sit still and do nothing any longer.

“Stop.”

He halted in the kitchen doorway.

Walter approached him. “If you think for a second I’m letting you walk out of here alone after what happened tonight, you’re crazier than all the nut jobs you attract.”

Kevin didn’t move. He just kept staring at Walter. “You know, I do have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I’ll add more men to your security team.”

“You can’t hire every bodyguard in the city to watch me.”

“You want to make a bet?”

“Who’s going to watch you?”

“I don’t need anyone to watch me.”

“Goddamn it, Walter. He tried to kill you.”

“I got in his way tonight. That’s the only reason he came at me. We
know
he’s still coming for you.”

“And what if you get in his way again?”

“Well”—Walter took a step closer—“we’ll see. Because when he comes for you, getting in his way is exactly what I plan to do.”

* * * *

The Protector set his empty glass on the desk beside the bottle of scotch. He only ever allowed himself one drink. Any more than that and he risked impairing his judgment. He couldn’t take the chance he’d irreparably damage his boys.

He tucked himself into his pants and rose. Ever since the close encounter with Kevin Price, he’d been unable to keep his mind off the man. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like when he finally brought Kevin home. Just the thought had the Protector hard, had him distracted from what his other boys needed.

He hadn’t planned on rescuing more of them once he’d spotted Kevin that first time, but he’d been unable to resist the latest one with the buzzed hair who’d been sitting in the bar, looking like he needed something.

Now his new boy waited in the room next door with the others, all safely tucked away. The Protector took a last look at the pictures covering the wall over his bed and forced everything else out of his mind. He had his boys to take care of.

He flicked off the surveillance monitor and opened the door. The room he entered was much larger than his apartment or any of the places he’d lived before. There was plenty of space for the cleaning area, his workbench, and the four-poster bed. The dank walls and floors were a nice touch. Gave the place a dungeon feel that went well with the leather, the tools, and the metal cages lining the back wall.

Why had he never thought to find a place like this before?

It had taken him three weeks to prepare the space, move his equipment here, and construct the cells. The cages were a necessity. He didn’t want them trying to return to their old lives before they realized how much better their futures were going to be with him.

Truthfully, seeing his boys waiting for him in their cages gave him a thrill of power little else matched. He alone had taken control of what they needed.

He’d gladly spend the rest of his days in this building. Which he might have to do. Going back to his apartment wasn’t an option. Now that the ex-cop had seen him without the disguise, the police would be looking for Porter Logan Prescott III.

He couldn’t return to that life.

He’d always known he would have to leave it someday. It was long past time for him to invent a new persona for public consumption. He’d spent too long in this one. Made too many connections with people who meant nothing.

Time to move on. Just as soon as he collected Kevin Price. Then he’d head somewhere new with his boys.

He’d miss this room, but he knew better than to count on things. Tangible items could be destroyed, burned at any moment. The place and the toys he used were not his priority. The naked men inside the cages were.

He wouldn’t abandon them.

He stepped to his workbench, peeled back the black case’s covering, and ran the tips of his fingers along the neat row of steel, arranged by blade length and width. The smell of the leather case and the feel of the polished metal under his fingers urged him on. As did the whimpers of anticipation behind him.

He picked up the gold key chain with the dog’s picture in the tiny frame. A yellow Lab. He actually felt bad about the dog, wished he could bring him here. But dogs made messes and barked. Too big of a risk when he had to be gone. Instead he’d decided he would give the boy the key chain to keep with him in his cage. The Protector had promised him if the boy was good during their next session, he’d let him have it.

He usually didn’t like them to keep anything from their old lives. They needed to be cleansed of that filthy existence, but he never went back on a promise.

Another whimper came from behind him.

This one sure liked to make noise. Which was why the Protector kept coming back to him, more than the others. He had sounded lovely, begging and crying out, letting the Protector hear everything he felt.

The Protector faced him. The boy was spread-eagle on the bed, wrists and ankles lashed to the four posts. His eyes were huge, watching his Protector.

He liked when they watched.

He set the knife on the bed on one side of the boy, the key chain with the dog’s photo on the other.

A voice rang out from behind him. “No matter what you do, we’ll never be yours.”

That was the newest one. Dylan. He talked a lot, even when inside his cage.

“Be quiet. It’s not your turn.”

“Someone will find us.”

The boy on the bed shook now. The Protector leaned down to him. “Don’t listen to him. He lies.”