“I did,” Marge said. “There are no properties owned by Bernard Crighton, but I did find one deeded to Stephanie Crighton.” She read off an address.
Bree covered the speaker and repeated the house number and street to Matt. “Find this property on a map app.”
“It’s a waterfront lot on the north end of the lake.” Matt looked up. “Not far from Dockside Fuel and Bait.”
“How is Stephanie involved?” Matt asked.
Older lady. Nice tits.
Bree turned to Juarez, the youngest person in the room. “Would a thirty-five-year-old woman be considered older by a twenty-one-year-old?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Juarez said. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Bree rose. Puzzle pieces began to shift into place in her mind. She met Matt’s gaze. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Stephanie Crighton is Dylan’s new lady friend,” Matt said.
Bree nodded. “Collins, Juarez, you’re with us. Let’s go check it out.”
All she could do was pray she was right.
Because she also knew in her heart, if Todd was still alive, it wasn’t likely he would survive the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A wave of pain roused Todd. The surface underneath him shifted, and nausea rolled over him like a bulldozer. He swallowed and breathed until it passed. When his stomach settled, he cracked an eyelid but couldn’t see much except darkness. Fresh air washed across his face, telling him he was outside, but clearly night had fallen. Something dried and sticky, probably blood, blurred his vision. He gave up and closed his eye.
The floor under him lurched. Was it actually moving, or was the motion in his head? He remembered taking a boot to the skull.
The floor shifted again. This time he was relatively sure it was not his imagination but actual movement.
Todd took stock. He was curled on his side. His hands were bound behind his back, and his ankles were tied together. Without moving his body, he wiggled his hands and feet to get the blood moving. More of his body hurt than didn’t, but miraculously, he could still move all his fingers and toes.
Hard surfaces all around him told him he was crammed in a confining space. Under him, metal mesh cut into his shoulder. He jolted, and something creaked. A wheel. He was in a cart of some sort.
If he was in a cart, then someone was pulling or pushing it.
Where was he being taken?
The cart lurched and began bouncing in a rhythm. Todd heard thump, thump, squeak.
He didn’t want to give away his conscious state, but he risked opening his eyes slightly, just enough to peer through his lashes. Actually, he could open only one eye. The other felt like it was swollen closed. The dried blood on his eyelid cracked enough that he could see. The sky above him was black and dotted with stars, and a half moon cast silvery light. He made out the silhouettes of two people in front of the cart. A man pulled the handle.
Dylan?
No wonder the voice of his attacker had sounded familiar.
The second person was partially hidden behind Dylan’s shadow. To Todd’s surprise, the first voice he heard was a woman’s.
“I can’t believe you kidnapped a cop.” Her voice rang with condemnation.
“He’s our insurance,” Dylan said.
She stepped out from behind Dylan. Backlit by the moon, her features were indistinct. “He’s a liability, you moron.”
Todd had to agree. Abducting a cop was a stupid move that would attract more attention than it was worth.
“Don’t call me that,” Dylan snapped.
“Stop right there!” Her tone went cold and threatening. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll saw off your dick while you sleep.” Clearly, she was not going to take any shit from Dylan. Todd would have approved, but a little voice in the back of his aching head told him the woman was the more dangerous of the two.
Dylan said nothing. Probably a wise move on his part.
“Every cop in the state will be looking for him,” she said. “We need to get rid of him.”
“I guess he is a loose end,” Dylan agreed in a reluctant voice. “I just wanted him to stop asking questions about the Footmen.”
“Why? Why does that matter?” The woman clearly did not give two fucks about the Hudson Footmen.
“You don’t get it. The Footmen are doing important things. They don’t need the cops sniffing around their business.”
“Kidnapping one only increases scrutiny from law enforcement,” she pointed out. “Did you think about what you would do with him afterward?”