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Or he did and wanted Ty to walk right into his trap.
Blood whooshed in his ears as he drew his Glock and slipped inside, dripping on the tile flooring. No hiding he was here. He’d leave wet, muddy footprints all over this house. So much for an element of surprise.
Crouching and surveying the dark surroundings, he concocted his plan. Start with what he could see and then clear room by room before moving upstairs. The home was masculine, done in earthy coastal tones. Tasteful and expensive. He caught a faint whiff of lemon and pine-scented cleaner. Not a speck of dust. Who did the cleaning? Would he risk a cleaning crew? Where were the women being held, and where were Bexley and Josiah?
Ty surveyed the open living concept, spotting a hallway that flanked the living room. Which way to go? Right or left?
He listened. Complete silence. Why wasn’t Garrick using a generator? Was he planning on evacuating? It was too late for that now.
Keeping low, his breath shallow, Ty crept down the hall on the left, finding two bedrooms and a bathroom. Clear. He hurtled down the right hallway and found one more bedroom and bath and a theater room with only two chairs. Clear.
On his way back into the living area, he noticed a bookshelf that jutted too far out from the wall.
Odd.
Where was O? He should have cleared the ground level by now and made his way up the stairs into the living area on this floor. Inching closer to the wall, Ty noticed the crack.
A false front.
Carefully, he opened the hidden door and slipped through, his gun poised, ready for confrontation.
Silence.
Before him stretched three glossy black doors on his right and four on the left.
He cracked open the first door on the left. Pungent scents of ink permeated the stale air, and tattoo equipment rested in the corner, but the room was vacant. Definitely the correct house.
Moving to the right, he checked the opposite room. Empty except for a twin bed with expensive sheets. A chain had been anchored to the wall. He cleared each empty identical room.
Last two doors.
He chose the one on the left and entered.
Ty’s lungs deflated and he lowered his weapon. What was going on? His heart hammered against his ribs and his mouth dropped open as he tried to grasp what he was seeing.
Garrick sat in a chair, staring right at him with dark, vacant eyes.
His throat had been slit from ear to ear, but the left side near the ear was shallower as if someone had hesitated—or toyed with him before ripping through his flesh and veins. Blood stained his unbuttoned white dress shirt and pooled dark and sticky on the concrete floor. Bound to the chair with thin ropes, Garrick had prominent swelling along his jaw and dried crusty blood caked along his split lip; burn marks and shallow cuts riddled his torso where he’d been brutally tortured.
If Garrick was dead, where was Dalen? Did he kill Garrick with plans to pin this on him?
Cracking the door, he peered down the hall. Coast was clear. He darted to the last room.
Empty.
Where were Bexley and Josiah? Where were the women he’d been keeping in these rooms?
He had two options for where to go next—one was a dead end, but this place was full of secrets. Ty approached the dead end and felt along the wall until he found a small button under the chair rail. He pushed, and a door opened for him.
Dozens upon dozens of flowers arranged in pots filled the room, their sweet fragrance permeating his senses. The fountain in the middle must be a grand focal point, though the water wasn’t flowing during the power outage. But what struck him with an alarming force were the seven huge birdcages circling the room.
Occupied cages.
Women in several stages of flower tattoos sat with their knees drawn up and their heads resting on them. No one moved. No one spoke.
This was how Cami had spent her last weeks on earth. Caged, confined and controlled by the will of a madman.
“I’m federal agent Tiberius Granger. I’m getting you out of here.” He’d figure out the logistics later. No one was leaving this house or island. The earlier tornado had veered away from the home, sparing them, but that didn’t mean another one—a larger one—couldn’t pop out of the sky at any moment.
