Page 254 of Depraved Boys

“Right,” I whispered back.

My fingers trembled over the house keys, but Sebastian took them and headed for the door. I followed after him with Leopold at my rear. Palpitations reverberated in the tips of my fingers. What if the man was armed and still in the house?

We reached the doorstep, and Sebastian turned the key in the lock. I held my breath, bracing myself for a balaclava-covered man to fly out brandishing his crowbar. He pushed the door open and swung the cricket bat in a defensive arch, but the hallway was empty.

Sniffles and sobs filled the air.

Sebastian stepped inside and crept down the darkened hall with me at his heels. Leopold let the door click shut before catching up. We passed the empty living room and stepped into the darkened dining room, where the sounds became more pronounced.

A shiver ran down my spine, and my heart beat faster. I pushed aside thoughts of wrathful ghosts and glanced around the empty dining room. Nobody sat on the wooden seats or even crouched underneath the table, and the bookshelves in the alcove were untouched.

We continued to the kitchen, where a long-haired figure in a grubby white nightgown sat by the kitchen sink. Black hair obscured her face.

A cold, hard fist slammed into my gut, ripping a scream from my lips. I staggered back into Leopold, who pulled me into his arms.

“Fucking hell!” Sebastian held his cricket bat like a flame-thrower and backed further into the dining room.

“Willow?” said a small, broken voice.

“A-Ashley?”

Leopold tightened his grip around me, while Sebastian ventured back into the kitchen. Despite Leopold’s warmth, a cold sweat broke out across my skin. The last time I’d seen her, she still had her blonde hair from her disguise as a maid. The last time I’d heard from her, she had left the country to become the girlfriend of an international DJ.

The muscles of my stomach tightened. The last thing I’d heard about her was that she had mixed heroin into Bruce Wilmington and Jarrett Riley’s marijuana and gotten them killed.

Leopold growled. “You’ve got some nerve to show your face after—”

I wrapped my hand around his forearm and squeezed hard. Accusations would only scare her away. Right now, we needed to know why she had returned and what danger she posed. Leopold let go of me and stood to the side.

Sebastian walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. Dirt encrusted the skirt of Ashley’s white nightgown and caked her hands and bare feet. I frowned. She looked like she had trekked through the mud.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

Ashley raised her head. All the bruising had faded, but her nose had thickened around the bridge. One side of her jaw protruded more than the other, and her eyes were bloodshot. “Why didn’t you take Mr. Byrd’s calls?”

My brows furrowed. “Why the hell would I speak to that maniac?”

“Because he held me hostage for weeks?”

“What?” I gasped out. “Why?”

“You ruined his life, and he wanted revenge.”

I glanced from Sebastian to Leopold, who each wore incredulous expressions. Something in Ashley’s anguished face told me there was a kernel of truth in her words.

“You were in Ibiza. How did he find you?”

“Bones wanted us to drive down to the Isle of Wight for the April Showers Festival, so we all went down in a converted bus I bought.”

“Right.” This still didn’t explain how she ended up with Mr. Byrd, but I let her continue her story.

“At some point, someone must have broken into the bus. Most of our things went missing by the end of the festival.”

I clenched my teeth, predicting where the financial aspect of this story was heading.

“By the time I called the police and got through the bank, they’d already used my card to buy all kinds of things, and they withdrew a lot of cash.” Her voice wobbled. “The bank tried to say it was me because the person had my passport and driver’s license.”

“It sounds like someone you confided in stole your identity,” said Leopold.