CHAPTER 22
Prepared to apprehend a predator, they found something they hadn’t expected – something they weren’t prepared for – Satan’s den.
The place was a mess as if he went through it in a hostile rage and tossed everything about. Or perhaps, the disarray was his way of keeping things to his liking. There were photos everywhere – on the walls, on the floor, some torn, some drawn on. They found notebooks full of notes that were nothing but rambling nonsense about nothing. They also found detailed information – information that made the hair on the back of their necks stand a little stiffer.
There were various maps of McKenzie Ridge. Some were of the vast landscape with no real purpose that they could see, other than to familiarize one’s self with the area. There were maps that were only of old logging roads and forest service roads that danced around town through the forest. The most threatening maps, however, were those of the town, with addresses highlighted and aerial views of the properties. Those were the addresses of Jessie and all of her dear friends.
They were all noted, from Colton and Meg to Lou and Stone. Everyone. There were detailed diagrams of not only the streets they lived on but easy exit routes.
Even Morgan’s ranch, Pinecrest, had a detailed map and diagram with every single out building, along with the hunting cabins that rested on the outer edge of her property. The most bone chilling were the diagrams of each of their houses. He even knew where each of them slept – even the new babies. He was fucking crazy.
Of course, Jessie’s was included as well, but that was to be expected, considering. They found pictures, hundreds of pictures, scattered around, of each of them in McKenzie. Some were of individuals, some group pictures, including group gatherings at Morgan’s ranch and of Jessie on scene – fighting a fire with her crew. Fires he started.
They found schedules and routines outlined on the backs of pictures and in some of the notebooks. He even had favorite places to eat and who frequented Baker’s Bakery the most, including what they ate. Had he really been that close and gone undetected?
If the others didn’t know about him, how would
they know to watch for him or recognize him when out and about? They wouldn’t, and that worked in Jason Bolton’s favor. Blake had been so focused on keeping Jessie safe that he hadn’t been out and around town with the others. They were living blind and clearly targets if he had them plastered all over the place.
Out of everything they came across, the most disturbing were the photos of a woman’s battered body. There were hundreds of them of various parts from various angles. Many were unflattering and sexual in nature – all appeared to be the same woman.
Some were full color, some black and white. Those were the most disturbing – there was something more eerie about them – if that were even possible. It started to come together for Blake when he noticed the campfire in several of the pictures. They were taken outside, but what did that fire have to do with it, and why was that part of the game Bolton was playing now.
It was as if he tossed that question to the universe because the universe tossed back an answer. He picked up a picture, the only one with a facial profile. Though somewhat blurred and a bit younger, it was unmistakably Jessie. His heart sank. No matter how much he studied her case and went over the details, he could never be prepared to see it all in photographs. To put her face to the story, which he obviously had somehow managed to separate her, the person, from in his mind.
His heart ached, and his stomach spoiled as a rage like nothing he’d ever felt before took over. This was what he did to her – this was what had scarred her – this was what haunted her every waking and sleeping moment. This was what he took from her. Everything Blake knew about her past, everything he had read in her case file, was just brought to life. He could no longer separate the details from the victim as he had. He was looking at her nightmare.
Making matters worse, when Carter had aimed his light at a nearby wall, causing him to lift his face after hearing a faint echo, he revealed the last piece to the puzzle. Grabbing everyone’s attention, Carter’s low whistle had them looking over to see the large red circle, painted on the wall, with a star centered within it. Just below, on the floor, a circle of half burned candles in the same shape. It was a shrine with Jessie’s picture right in the center of it all.
That symbol was the same symbol Jessie had been drawing in the hospital. It was also the symbol carved into the shoulder of the woman in the pictures – carved into Jessie. It was becoming quite clear what happened in the burning church the day before.
If Blake had to guess, this very symbol was what stopped Jessie in her tracks, despite the burning inferno around her. This asshole sent her a message. Fire. Church. Satanic symbol. Everything Jason Bolton scarred with his mark in her world – it was all there. If it hadn’t already been blatantly clear, it was now – he
was coming for her.
With the pictures in front of him, he started to piece them together for some reason. He needed to know if it was all her. Coming this far, he needed to know what he did to her that wasn’t in her file so he could save her from it. What he ended up with was that he wanted to salvage whatever dignity he could for Jessie. He knew his friends weren’t looking at the photos or passing judgment on anyone but the maniacal beast responsible for Jessie’s tortured past. But, he couldn’t help but move, act, do…something.
Flustered by the tears that were threatening, Blake dropped to his knees and started gathering all of the pictures he could find of Jessie. Blake didn’t cry; he didn’t understand the powerful emotion consuming him that threatened to spill over and show his sorrow. He wanted answers – he wanted all of the pieces to put together so he could help her. Now that he had them, they caused an ache like no other.
This was new to him, this feeling. Blake had faced a lot of monsters in his day, but this one was more than that, he thought as he looked at Jessie’s bloodied face and battered body. This monster could be Satan himself.
When the other men walked near, Blake said, “Don’t look. Don’t look at them. Leave the pictures alone.”
Matching her story to these pictures hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, and the fury that continued to build nearly frightened him. “How does he still have these? Where…where the hell did he keep them?”
Luke shook his head, sympathy pouring through his voice, “They’re like sick fucking trophies, man. He isn’t normal – we’re not supposed to understand it. But, we will fix it…we can get rid of it, man.”
“I don’t recall seeing anything about his family in the file. The prison wouldn’t have allowed him to have these. He either stashed them, or someone held them for him,” Carter added.
Liam came through the ear piece each of them wore, “The building. He could have held them there. The building is owned by some guy who owns half of Portland. Looks like he’s slowly buying up that entire district – he’s been planning some sort of revitalization or something. Anyway, that building has sat empty for twelve years, since it was purchased. Local P.D. must not have known he had a frickin’ lair.”
“This guy have any connection to Bolton?” Luke asked.
“None that I could find,” Liam replied with a heavy sigh.
“He was squatting?” Dace asked. “All this time, and nobody ever came in here?”
Dace tossed his hands in the air. “Who knows where he kept them. For all we know, it was all on a hidden flash drive, taped under a shelf. He could have just printed that stuff out – we don’t know how long it’s been scattered around here like this.”
All eyes went to Dace with raised eyebrows. “What? I’m just saying, think like a psychopath. How would you hide something like that if you were going to the can for a decade?”
Though he was probably right, it was a pretty thorough assessment that none of them thought of. Dace was the O’Reilly bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings, known for his fair share of mischief. It seemed fitting that he was the one to come up with such a theory.
“That’s pretty specific, man,” Carter said with a snort.
“Did they even have flash drives back then?” Wylie asked, earning eye rolls and groans.
“It doesn’t matter where he had it and how. Fact is, he’s been here, recently, and he’s after Jessie,” Blake said, looking at the pictures now piled in front of him. “And I need to find him before he gets to her.”
“I’ll keep looking into this real estate guy,” Liam chimed in. “Scour his phone records, email, social media, associates and their records. You name it, I’m hacking it. If he’s connected, I’ll find it.”
“No. I think it’s just Bolton,” Blake said, his eyes back on the pictures. “He’s a killer, a psychopath. He didn’t get to finish what he started. He’s completely obsessed with Jess – he wouldn’t share what he’s getting out of this. Share her. He’s been waiting ten years for this. He’s enjoying it.”
“Only take what we need – evidence – we torch the rest,” Carter said, knowing he would be the special prosecutor on the case…he’d insist on it. “Nobody else finds this, and he knows we’re coming for him. I’ll prosecute the sick bastard myself.”
“No. You won’t need evidence. Not when I’m done with him.” Blake’s gaze was fixed on the offensive red symbol on the wall that Jessie’s picture was affixed to. He ripped it down and tossed it in the pile. “No do-overs, fucker.”
These men loved their people, and if one of them was hurt, they all carried the pain. If justice was to be served – they did it together. Nobody protested Blake’s declaration, and they each began tossing all that they found into the pile, from the pictures to the diagrams and maps. They were destroying it all.
They knew that at the end of the day, Blake would make the appropriate decision for the circumstance, and no matter what it was – they’d support him to the end without judgment. Truth be told, there was, and would be, plenty of evidence to convict Jason Bolton without what they had in that warehouse. For good measure, however, Carter took it upon himself to take pictures, should he need them in court.
Blake did keep one picture, and it was that of Jessie’s body with the satanic symbol that Bolton had branded her with. He also took a picture of what they found painted on the wall. He caught her drawing that very image in the hospital, and here it was, tying everything together for him, without her help.
It was time to talk. She saw something the day before in the fire, something that frightened her, paralyzing her in the middle of that burning building. This symbol had something to do with that – it had a sick hold on her, and he needed the truth. This was getting far too dangerous without it.
Luke went to work as the other men stood around silently. As pyro and demolitions expert, handy with all things fire and explosives, he lit the controlled burn that erased everything they had seen in that building. Oddly, the fire was quick, efficient, and went out on its own like magic with minimal smoke. Blake hadn’t cared if the whole building went down but appreciated the care Luke put into maintaining it – one less thing to cover up, he thought.
Once Luke did his part, the men were quickly extracted when the same black SUV that had dropped them off came to a slow roll, and they filed into it like a shot before vanishing into the night. Like nothing had even happened.
“What’s the plan?” Carter asked. “You going back tonight?”
“After seeing all of that,” Blake said, tilting his head in the direction from which they had come, “I need
to get back tonight. I’m glad Dec’s over there and Liam gave him the heads up.”
“How about a stop at the pub,” Luke said, referring to his family’s pub up the street from Watermark in Portland. “Grab a bite and a beer – blow off some steam before you head back.”
Blake looked at his watch and tossed the idea around. Jessie was likely in bed, and even if she wasn’t, by the time he got there, it would be too late to go over where he’d really been and what he’d found. Logan was with her, and Declan was nearby – a burger with the O’Reilly clan would be almost as good as a tall beer, he thought.
Before he could decide one way or the other, the decision was made for him when his phone rang. Dread and worry settled in when Declan’s name crossed his screen. He was with family while in McKenzie. The only reason he would be calling Blake was if there was a problem and Logan needed his help…or worse, if Jessie needed his help because Logan couldn’t make the call due to some unforeseen circumstance.
“What happened?” Blake asked without a greeting.
His choice of words and urgent tone had everybody’s attention. Blake’s expression went dark, and he twirled his finger in the air indicating he needed to get to the helicopter.
Blake’s world was tilting and about to fall out from under him. “Don’t leave her side – I’m on my way.”