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"The whole unit might not be much more than a rogue individual and a couple of his consorts. That might be why he's looking to expand," May said.
"Forcing up the numbers by imprisoning women? Or maybe he splintered off because his ideas were unacceptable to the others?"
"We need to be ready for anything."
The road was rough and rutted, and the car's suspension protested at each jolt as they headed deeper into the woods.
She slowed, juddering over the uneven track that wound its way into a thickly forested area. The trees looked dark and gloomy, seeming to close in over them as they approached. May thought this looked like the perfect place to build a hideaway or a prison. Or an underground bunker.
This was where New Blood was newly headquartered. What would they find?
And here they were. Ahead, May saw the headquarters. Wooden buildings were nestled behind a tall, split-pole fence. Two huge wooden poles, buried solidly in the ground, represented the gateposts, with a dark wood gate between them.
What would be waiting for them behind that gate?
May glanced at Owen. His face was grim and focused.
With all her senses alert, she studied her surroundings. She kept her eyes peeled for anyone who might be watching, or anyone who might be lurking in the shadows nearby, because she knew places like this often had lookouts or sentries posted.
The wooden buildings were well constructed and looked like a mini fortress. The walls were solid, and the windows were little more than tiny gaps. The gate was firmly closed.
May walked up and knocked on it. The solid wood seemed almost to swallow the sound and did little more than make herknuckles sore. But she was sure that, inside, someone had heard. And that someone was watching.
And sure enough, a moment later, the gate eased open.
A young, jumpy-looking man peered through the gap. He had a suspicious looking face, with a narrow mouth and close-set eyes. His hair was razored short, and he was clean shaven. He had dark tattoos on his fingers and was wearing a camouflage jacket.
Behind him, in the narrow gap, May couldn't see much at all. She had no idea who else was there.
"Yes?" the man demanded. He’d clearly guessed they were police, and his attitude already seemed more combative.
May held up her badge and said, "We need to ask some questions about crimes in this area. Who's in charge here? What's the setup?"
Whatever the setup was, she was sure that it involved lots of guns, lots of aggression, and a deep distrust and dislike of law enforcement. Getting information out of these people was going to be tough.
"The boss is called Gary Cousins. He's my dad," the young man said with a note of pride.
"We'd like to speak to him. Can we come in?"
The man shook his head firmly. "We don’t allow strangers inside. This is private property. My dad owns this land legitimately. He bought it. We’re not campers or squatters."He sounded as if he’d said this before. These were not new words.
"We're not strangers. We're cops," May said politely. "We're investigating a string of serious crimes. The perpetrator is in this area. So, we need to ask some questions and have a look inside. Perhaps your dad will be willing to cooperate?"
"So, you don't know exactly where these crimes happened?" the young man asked, sounding confused. "Why must we get theblame for that? It sounds to me like you just want to come inside here, and you’re looking for reasons."
"If you have nothing to hide, you should be willing to let us in, right?" May asked. “If we can talk to the owner face to face, then we can explain.”
“It’s not my decision. I follow orders. And the orders are that nobody gets access.”
Listening carefully, May could hear the sounds of movement from behind the walls, and the murmur and buzz of men’s voices. There were probably a few New Blood members in that front yard, no doubt armed to the teeth.
But she couldn’t see them and knew she couldn’t get past this gatekeeper without his permission. This was a frustrating situation, for sure.
“Can I speak to Mr. Gary Cousins? I’d like to ask him personally,” she said.
At that moment, from inside, there was the tramp of footsteps.
The door swung open wider—though not by much.
