Kill for Me by Karen Rose Page B

Web site, who’d committed acts so depraved . . . They’d called her Angel.
    Bile rose in his throat as he stood, staring down at her. Angel was dead. Emaciated, tortured. You were too late . The shock began to fade as the fury that simmered inside him boiled over and he clenched his fists, trying to keep it inside. Controlled. He couldn’t let the fury keep him from doing his job.
    To protect and serve, his mind mocked.
    But you didn’t protect her. You failed. You were too late.
    Alex dropped to her knees next to the cot, pressing her fingers to the girl’s thin neck. “She’s dead. Maybe an hour ago.”
    “They’re all dead,” Beardsley said harshly. “Every one that was left behind.”
    “How many?” Luke asked, his voice hard. “How many are dead?”
    “Bailey and I were locked up at the other end,” Beardsley said. “I couldn’t see anything. But I counted seven shots.”
    Seven shots. The girl Susannah had saved had been shot twice, once in the side. The other bullet had grazed her head. So five other shots. Five dead. Dear God .
    “What is this place?” Alex whispered.
    “Human trafficking,” Luke said succinctly and Alex stared at him, open-mouthed.
    “You mean all these girls . . . ? But why kill them? Why? ”
    “They didn’t have time to get them all out,” Beardsley said tonelessly. “They didn’t want the ones left behind to talk.”
    “Who’s responsible for this?” Alex hissed.
    “The man you called Granville.” Beardsley leaned against the wall and closed his eyes and Luke noticed the dark stain on his shirt. It was spreading.
    “You got shot, too,” Alex said. “For God’s sake sit down.” She pushed him down and knelt next to him, peeling his shirt away from the wound.
    Luke flagged one of the paramedics, a serious-faced kid whose badge said Eric Clark. “Captain Beardsley was hit. We need another gurney.” He visually assessed Daniel from the doorway. His friend was still deathly pale, his chest barely moving. But it was moving. “How is he?”
    “As stable as we can get him in here,” Clark replied.
    “Then radio for another crew,” Luke said, “and come with me. We have one dead teenager. There may be four more.” Rapidly Luke and the young medic checked every small cell. There were an even dozen, each dark, dirty. Fetid. Each had a filthy, rancid mattress on a rusted cot frame. The one right next to the office was empty, but a sweep of Luke’s flashlight revealed a trail of blood leading from the door. The steady drips of blood continued down the hall. “This is the one that escaped,” he said. “Next cell.”
    The next cell held another body, as emaciated as Angel. Luke heard Eric Clark suck in a horrified breath. “Oh my God.” Clark started to rush in, but Luke held him back.
    “Careful. For now just see if she’s alive, but don’t touch anything else.”
    Clark tried to find a pulse. “She’s dead. What the hell happened here?”
    Luke didn’t answer, methodically leading Clark from cell to cell. Out of twelve cells they had five dead. The other seven were empty, but a few of the mattresses were damp, the smell of bodily fluids still heavy in the unventilated room. These rooms had been recently occupied. Now they were not. One cell had belonged to the girl Susannah had saved. That meant up to six had been taken. Six .
    There were no leads, no way of knowing how many or who the girls were. No descriptions. Nothing, except the girl Susannah had saved. She might be their only hope.
    Like Angel, the other four victims were shackled to the wall of their cells, each staring vacantly at the ceiling, a bullet hole in the center of each forehead. Careful not to disturb the scene, Clark checked each girl. Each time he shook his head.
    At the end of the hall, Luke drew a breath, but his insides didn’t calm. It was just as Beardsley had said. No survivors. None except the girl Susannah had discovered in the woods. What had she seen? What did she