Page 24 of Gotta Dig Deep
A metal divider swung open into the living space, even though there was more open room in the back half of the section. There were additional cabinets mounted on these walls, leaving a wide section of floor open and empty.
Horse glanced over his shoulder to where Slate sat cross-legged on top of the small table. He had a pile of papers in hand, studying each of them in turn. Neither had spoken much since they’d opened the door, unlocking the trailer with the keys the Rebels had taken from the bull rider before Horse and the FRMC members had finished the job.
“I think part of the ceiling comes down. Anything you see so far indicate if he had remote controls or anything?” Horse turned back to the space and looked up. “That’s gotta be it. There’s about a two-by-eight section I think suspends from the ceiling.”
“No, this bullshit is just all his sick spewing and crowing after the fact. Page after page of what he did to the women. Limited location information. Some tactical notes about what not to do in the future. Nothing about how he did what he did, or the trailer modifications.” Slate’s bootheels clicked on the floor, indicating he’d climbed off the table. “Sick fuck.”
“He’d have to do everything himself. Probably had it all sorted so he could get them into restraints with one hand if needed.” Horse stretched tall and placed a palm flat on the ceiling. “Motherfucker was short, so it can’t be him reaching up to it.” He looked at the cabinets lining both walls. One side resembled the inside of an ambulance, with variously sized stainless-steel doors covering every inch, floor to ceiling. The other had a long workbench over more typical cabinets, and additional mounted storage above. “I bet there’s a button or a latch or something over here.”
He bent at the waist and studied the underside of the upper cabinets, grimacing when he saw a toggle switch. He flipped it with no movement. “Think we’ll need power for this.”
Slate backed up and opened the door to shout to the Rebels left outside. “Pop the genny.” They’d restricted access to the interior of the trailer to just the two of them so far, agreeing on the decision without having to speak about it.
A moment later, there was a machinery hum and the lights in the room brightened considerably.
Horse flipped the toggle again and wasn’t shocked when the center of the ceiling began descending.
“Fuck I hate when I’m right about shit like this.”
Two different kinds of restraints were affixed to each corner of the suspended table, wide straps and handcuffs. The table itself had a deep groove around the outside lip and Horse could see a rubber gromet plugging a hole on the far end.Drainage. Shit.
“So he brings them to his little apartment and what? Drugs them? Took us a while to find the latch to open this shit up, so it’s unlikely he’d let just anyone see his dungeon.”
“I thought dungeons were supposed to be underground?” Horse faced away from the table, studying the wall lined with shiny doors. He opened one at random. “Ax and a hedge pruner in here. Maybe you’re right about the dungeon.” Another door revealed an electric saw. “Jesus. He’s got power tools too.”
“Fuckin’ lair, then. Whatever we call it, he’d only open up this backend if he were certain of himself. Woman sees this and gets away, his gig is over.” A cabinet opened behind Horse and Slate grunted. “Five different kinds of pliers. Fuck me. This is gonna haunt my goddamned sleep.”
Horse moved around the table to stand next to Slate. He tugged on a drawer handle, surprised when it didn’t move. “This one is locked.” It went unsaid that if Nelms had seen fit to lock something inside his inner sanctum, it was important.
The latch was inside a cabinet below the drawer.
The drawer held one thing. A folded map of the United States.
Horse spread the map on the table, still descended from the ceiling. It turned his stomach that it was a perfect size, perfect height for Nelms—a little low for Horse, so he had to bend slightly.
They stared down at the map. In addition to the printed lines and colors, names of cities, counties, and rivers there were also little circles, crosses, and boxes, all drawn in different colored ink. A quick count of the icons hand drawn on the paper left Horse with forty-six potential areas of investigation.
“You think those mark where he picked them up, killed them, or left them behind?”
The memory of something Nelms had said during their drive, the ramblings that might not be as mad as Horse had assumed. “I think the boxes are the ones he found that fulfilled his need the most. He said your gal Mica was a box that let him put all the sickness inside and be normal for a while.”
“Shit.” Slate blew out a heavy breath. “Fuck, man. And the others?”
“I don’t know. A circle could mean almost as good as a box, and the Xs might be failures. It’s hard to know for sure, since the man didn’t leave us with a key to decipher things. If each one indicates an individual, then that’s a lot of death laid at his doorstep, man.” Standing straight, he rested a fist on each hip and stared down at the map. “I’ve got an idea. If we can get this rig back to Longview, I can tear it apart, see what else I can find. Then I can set a prospect to researching this shit. Find missing person reports, that kind of stuff. If we can follow the information Nelms has left for us, we’ll see if we can bring any closure to the families. He said as much, just before we popped a cap in his ass. That the families would never know. I want to prove that motherfucker wrong.”
“Rebels have a guy who can help with the research side of things, as needed. Myron’s a whiz at finding what’s unfindable and leaving no trace behind when he does. Most security-minded dude I’ve ever known. Funny as hell to boot.” Slate leaned against the cabinet behind them. “Between you and me, I’m not sure I want Duck to know shit about this, though.”
“Still hard to wrap my head around them being brothers.”
“Blood don’t leave you no chance of declining, you know what I mean? Duck’s solid, and the most stand-up guy you’ll ever meet. He takes it personal, though, what Ray’s done. Be better to keep him out of it if we can.”
Horse gave a decisive nod. “I don’t see a problem with that.”
“Okay, let’s get the fuck outta here then. Place gives me the creeps in the worst way. Evil lived here, and all that bullshit the asshole did feels like it left a mark.”
“Not arguing with you on that.” Horse refolded the map and placed it in the drawer, then flipped the toggle to retract the table to the ceiling. It moved smoothly and efficiently in near silence. “This shit is enough to make my skin crawl just knowing what he must have done back here.”
“Remember…” Slate swung the divider closed and they pushed the chair back into the divots next to what now looked like a wall. “You volunteered for the extra credit work, brother. If it gives you bad dreams, that shit’s on you.”
