Page 90 of Natural-Born Cullers

As Gray started to leave, Simon gave a tilt of head as something seemed to catch his eye. He headed over to an evidence table and picked up a laptop given protection in an evidence bag. He turned it over once, twice. Seemed Light had left Simon’s laptop on scene, but then he didn’t need it now.

Simon’s look was the issue. His hold on it was more akin to a parent holding their kid after finding out they’d been abused. There was love there, but he also wanted blood for who had touched his.

Chapter 26

The Very Best Of

On the roadway, Gray stood back from the main gatehouse to the Joarnland property, all feeling flatlining at what he saw.

Over twelve acres and approached by private road over Totteridge Common, the eight-bedroom homestead was one of those hidden gems Gray sought out to purchase. Although a smaller version of his manor in general, even its gatehouse offered a live-in property all of its own: reception room, kitchen, bedroom, and private garden. Then there was the main grand house itself, all contemporary style that filtered into the detached annex that had an apartment complex above the garage space. After checking his laptop wasn’t damaged, from what Simon had found out since ghosting the CCTV to see if Light was inside, Jack and Jan would have loved it there. The whole lower ground floor of the grand house was an impressive leisure area: bowling alley, large gym, bar, a shower room, barbers, two large game areas, a sauna, and fully functioning kitchen and utility room.

Myers, the Controller, had been paid a damn good salary over the years like Gray, the details of which Simon noted had continued well after Myers retired from the cullers. He’d have taken on private contracts, but it seemed a lot of his income had come from his control of the Red Room. Gray didn’t have the intel yet on the Red Room’s locations, but it would come.

For now, quiet played around the stately home, the guards around the perimeter already making their way over to Gray as he made a point of being seen as he stood on the roadside.

Light wasn’t on the property, but he got a feeling hewashere. From how dogs barked occasionally from the direction of the stately home, added to the security packing firearms, Gray guessed he was stood on the outside, trying to figure a way in. He’d run out of time to work his way around it all.

Gray’s presence had ensured it as by now alarm systems would have been triggered by him parking close to the gatehouse.

Getting out to stand in the middle of the road was his ownership of the space.

Still working on his laptop, Simon stayed back in the Merc as Gray made his way over to the gatehouse, hands raised.

“Get back in your car and turn around. This is private property.” A woman in her forties and with a hint of an Irish accent stopped Gray from going any farther, a hand under her padded jacket. She’d stepped outside of the gatehouse as soon as Gray had gotten out of his Merc five minutes ago. The warning was subtle over carrying a firearm, but clear. Her colleague—male, slim build—stayed further back, out of arms reach. They’d both had good training in keeping that distance.

Gray stayed with Irish. “Four rings on your mobile. Get them through to your boss.”

From behind Irish, Slim snorted, but not looking away from Gray, Irish ignored her radio and took out her phone. “Message?”

“Just that I wouldn’t be making a call if I was here to kill him.”

Irish thumbed in some numbers, then cut the call after four rings. She got a reply a moment later, and she looked Gray over. “582. He wants to… talk, apparently, sir.”

The call was cut a moment later, and Irish stepped back and waved in the direction of the gate. “Your friend can stay where he is in your car. Supervised, of course.”

Gray nodded, and as Slim made his way over to Simon, Gray headed over to the main gatehouse. Irish stood in his way as he reached the gate and took something from her coat pocket. She ran the device head to toe over Gray, front to back, then when that gave the all clear over concealed weapons, she frisked him for any that weren’t made of metal, which included making sure he removed his shoes in case of concealing any poisons in the leather lining. He buried a snort with the latter.

Barefooted, he took the long walk up to the grand house, Irish following behind, at a distance. Removing the shoes carried a two-fold warning: no bolting away too easily if hewashere to cause trouble. The black basalt stones were there to ensure a walk over Lego just in case.

As they reached the main porch, the click of a door came, and the scuffle of wheelchair wheel on the door rim came through before it touched down on the patio. A cock of a shotgun came a moment later, followed by the low growl off two dogs.

“I don’t remember ordering in, son. Not this early in the morning anyway.” Old, Myers sounded so old and raspy, like he’d spent most of the night hooked up to oxygen, but he looked Gray up and down and gave a very youthful smile in that moment. “Expensive suit, slim build, yet little discomfort without walking with your shoes on, showing you can rough it. You’re a close combat fighter…. Who in their right mind would say no to getting you delivered to their door, huh?” A sniff. “You want to tell me why you’re on my doorstep?”

Almost bald, with sunspots on a tanned head, Myers carried a lot of weight, and the irony was there with how alike he was a bad parody of the Fat Controller fromThomas the Tank Engine. Only he was older, the twisted version with how wrinkles pulled his mouth down into a stretched-out scowl. Holding the double barrel, Myers cocked a brow, and, yeah, the wheelchair he sat in didn’t surprise Gray at all. But the two Dobermans at his side? Gray recognised them fucking into two twins from the clip Simon had shown him, and—

Drip… fucking drop.

One of the Red Rooms was here, on this property.

“Just checking you’re still here,” Gray said quietly.

“Why?” A smile came his way. “I’ve managed to survive many an endangered list.” A tilt of head came Gray’s way. “Mostly from the one who makes you bark.” A smile. “You seasoned enough to work that out, huh? She come at you yet?”

Gray didn’t reply.

“Oh.” The gun never wavered. “Yeah, you know.” Myers gave a sniff. “So tell me, why do you think we need to talk?”

Gray looked around him. “Red Rooms.” He found Myers again. “And why you need protection now Seth’s dead.”

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