He glanced down to see a young man tied up and gagged on the floor, his eyes wide and rolling in terror. They quickly picked him up and moved him out of the apartment, cutting his bonds.
“He is crazy, man,” he whispered. “He’s completely crazy.”
“Where do you live?”
“Right there,” he said. “I’ll be right over there.” He bolted to his feet and darted into the apartment and slammed it shut as quietly as he could.
Andy and Richard looked at each other. Richard shrugged and said, “Not exactly our normal procedure, but Cayce is our priority right now.”
They stepped back across the hall and pushed the door to 224 B slightly wider, then closed it behind them to stop the light from being detected by Kenneth.
The detectives crept forward, the smell filling their nostrils and making their stomachs heave. As they moved into the living room, they noted that the windows had been covered in some light-blocking material. As he stood in the gloominess, studying the layout, Richard focused on finding where the music was coming from, and he also heard a voice.
“You were supposed to bring me milk for my tea,” she said in that querulous voice.
“I did bring you milk, Mom,” he said ever patiently. “I brought it to you yesterday, and I brought it to you again today.”
“Well, I’m out,” she said, in a sad voice, denying the evidence in front of them, which was that she couldn’t remember anything.
“Open the fridge, and you’ll see the milk in the left-hand door.”
He heard her shuffling across the room, heading to the fridge, and the small click that said she had opened it.
“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. “The milk is here. I just didn’t realize you came and went without stopping to visit.”
“Mom, I came and had lunch with you.”
“Are you coming today?”
“If I do, it’ll be late.”
“That’s okay,” she said in delight. Her words were followed by the click of a phone.
Silence. Then …
“You were supposed to bring me milk for my tea,” she said in that querulous voice.
“I did bring you milk, Mom,” he said ever patiently. “I brought it to you yesterday, and I brought it to you again today.”
Richard followed the voice to a side hutch where a recording played on infinite loop.
And then, through the multiple layers of noise, another voice came from a different room.
Cayce’s voice. And another man’s voice. Dear God, how many people were here?
Chapter 25
Cayce moaned as she shook her head, getting her bearings. She lay on a floor somewhere, in a room off a kitchen, but it was hard to see without any lights. But what she saw broke her heart and shook her soul. “Kenneth?” Surely not. Surely he wasn’t behind all this evil. Yet he didn’t look the same from all those years ago. It’s as if he’d deteriorated in the last decade to the point where she barely recognized him.
“Yes,” he cried out in delight. “You do remember me.”
“Of course I do,” she said, when, in fact, he looked like nothing she’d seen before. However, his voice, that she recognized. How long had it been? Only eight years ago, when she and Elena had lived together? Or fourteen years ago, when she had been eighteen and attacked by her fiancé? That was a part of her life she’d desperately shut down. “You held me close when I was hurt. You made sure I got to the hospital. That I was taken care of. How could I not remember you?”
Dear God, what had happened to him? Where had he been all this time? Elena had mentioned something about going to visit somebody overseas, maybe in Dubai? But it was a one-time thing, and Cayce had nodded but hadn’t asked for details, being busy at the time.
“You went to a home in Washington, didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “No that was my brother.”
Brother? Stumped, she stared him. “I thought your brother was …” and she stopped. How could she ask about his hospitalization? “Is he doing okay?”
“He should be. I have no idea.” Kenneth shrugged his shoulders. “After Mom died, the family broke up.”
Duh, his stepmother had been a sadistic bitch, married to an even more sadistic husband. Both had beaten Kenneth and his brother, Heath, from an early age. Elena and the boys had been foster kids to these same evil stepparents. Elena’s biological father was a violent criminal currently jailed somewhere or, if they were lucky, had died. Elena’s “stepfather,” her foster father, had sexually attacked Elena that terrible night so long ago. The two girls had been on the phone, besties forever already, with Elena crying great big sobs as she tried to explain what was wrong. Her foster father had come in, roaring at her.
Cayce had heard through the phone and had raced to her friend’s side. She’d rung the doorbell several times, then barged in and dashed to her friend’s bedroom to see the foster father pulling his pants on as he left the room. She’d dragged her friend out of the house and straight to the hospital.
Cayce would never forget standing in the ER, two little girls, preteens, Cayce supporting Elena, who was bleeding all over the floor—or the nightmare that came after that. Cayce had no idea her actions would spawn a series of events that would take Elena from her for years. But, by the time the police, the doctors, and social services took over, no one would let Cayce know anything.
Until she’d found herself in a horrible position years later with her own fiancé.
Elena had contacted Cayce one day out of the blue and told her that she needed to get out of that relationship. When Cayce had tried to leave, her fiancé had come home and caught her packing.
Elena had showed up with her “siblings” and had rescued Cayce. The next few months had passed in a blur, but
