Page 118 of Trapped
When John looked at me for confirmation, I nodded.
Cate followed the girl to the door. “Lock it,” John ordered as soon as the door closed. He turned his attention back to me. “Blaszek?”
“Vegas.” I didn’t recognize my voice. Images of the warehouse flashed before my eyes. The sound of a whip cracking filled my ears. The tang of blood filled my nose.
My scar itched. My back burned. My lungs struggled to take in air.
When Ashley replaced me in the chair in my mind’s eye, my heart stopped beating as seconds that felt like hours ticked by.
Until rage replaced panic.
My lungs sucked in air. My mind locked down.
“They have her.” I reached for the box.
“You should wait,” John said.
“Who?” Cate asked at the same time.
“I don’t know exactly who, but I’ve only done one op using the name Scott. When I was deep undercover with the Perpura brothers in Vegas.”
Ignoring John, I used my pocketknife to cut the tape after handing my phone to Doug. “It’s recording.”
He nodded and stepped back to give me room.
Rage allowed me to share my story without fear. “They held me for two weeks, torturing me non-stop, after learning my real identity.” A chill ran down my back as I opened the flaps.
“I killed the brothers, so I don’t know who’s responsible for taking Ashley, but it’s someone from their organization.” It had to be.
After putting on the blue latex gloves John handed me, I carefully removed the single black rose, exposing a folded piece of paper.
I held my breath as I unfolded the paper, then laid the note flat on the table.
Doug moved to get a better angle for recording as I read the note out loud.
Scott Miller, or should I call you Nathan now?
Your brain must have leaked out of your face when Tommy slashed it open because it’s taking you and your PI buddies far too long to figure out who’s been taunting you via that pretty lady of yours.
The next time you kill someone, make sure they’re really dead.
It couldn’t be Tommy; I cut his throat and watched him bleed out. Al. It had to be him. I’d shot him in the chest and assumed he was dead.But I didn’t check. There wasn’t time. There’d been no news suggesting Al survived. I knew because I’d checked religiously the first few months. Once I was confident he wouldn’t reappear, I stopped.
There was no reason to keep torturing myself with the past while planning for the future.
Taking too long?
“It’s been Al all along.”
“I thought he was dead,” John said.
“So did I.”
“Call everyone back,” John ordered Cate before picking up his phone. “What name do I give for the BOLO?”
Ice ran through my veins. “Alan Perpura, of the Perpura Syndicate.” They never made the FBI’s top ten most wanted list, but they were in the top twenty. Until I killed them. Or thought I did. “Call the FBI, too. But I’m not waiting for any of them.”
I dug through the black plastic rose petals knowing there’d be more.
