Man, they could really use some comms right about now.
“Front and back,” Reese stated. “Where’re you goin’?”
Brantley pointed. “See that window right there? Low to the ground? I’m bettin’ that’s the basement. I need to see if I can get a look. Don’t do anything until I signal.”
They split up, Reese going to the right, Baz to the left. They would have cover but only for as long as they remained in the trees.
Brantley, on the other hand, was concealed partially by the garage and the shed JJ had mentioned.
Because there was no way to tell whether Dugan was standing there watching out the window, Brantley had to assume the man was busy with other things. Namely the woman he was likely keeping chained up below ground.
He took off at a dead run, heading for the shed. He cleared the one hundred yards, paused behind the rickety wooden structure. He was quiet, listening for noises inside the little shed just to be safe. It was possible he was keeping her out here, but based on the condition of the thing, Brantley doubted it.
Convinced no one was inside, Brantley peeked around in an attempt to get a look at the windows on the house. From this vantage point, he could see they were covered. That was good news for them. The shades were down, which meant Dugan wasn’t watching and waiting. Of course, it also meant they couldn’t get a look inside.
Didn’t mean Dugan wasn’t monitoring from a camera, but from what Brantley could tell, there weren’t any. The guy was likely convinced no one would find him out this way. A warped sense of safety to go with that warped mind of his.
Brantley peeked around the side of the shed once more, then took off for the house. He made quick work scaling the four-foot chain-link fence, landing on his feet. As he continued to run, he pulled his gun from its holster, held it at the ready. When he reached the house, he paused, keeping his back to the old wood siding.
Up close, the house looked to be in far worse shape than he’d originally thought. There was a ton of rot on the boards, what had once been painted white now a dingy gray. There’d been no upkeep on this place for a while. Including the yard. The weeds were high, but he worked his way toward the window.
Dropping to his knees, he leaned around, tried to determine if there was a covering on the inside. There wasn’t. And the shade from the house would hopefully keep his shadow from being projected in when he leaned over.
He glanced left, then right, ensuring no one was coming his way. When he determined the coast was clear, Brantley leaned down for a peek.
His heart kicked hard when he saw Corinne Greenwood sitting on a cot, a dark blanket clutched to her chest. He pulled back, processed what he’d seen. Her back was bare, which he took to mean Dugan had taken her clothes. He hoped like hell that was all the bastard had taken.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned down once more, scanning the entire space.
No Dugan.
That meant the man was somewhere in the house.
Standing tall, Brantley headed around to the south side of the house where Reese was. He attempted to peek into windows on the way, came up empty at every turn. They were locked down tight, shades drawn, windows painted shut.
Wouldn’t be going in that way.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
All clear on this side, was Baz’s message.
Stepping around to the back of the house, he nodded to Reese, who was standing on the other corner of the house. He made a mental note to get them some sort of comms. Would’ve worked a whole hell of a lot better if he had a way to communicate with them. As it was, Baz was basically going in blind at the front of the house.
Taking a second to text JJ, he let her know he had eyes on Corinne and that she needed to make that call to the woman’s parents. Once he was done, he tucked his phone back into his pocket.
Holding up three fingers, he nodded at Reese again.
Reese replied with a thumbs-up before leaning back, most likely relaying the information to Baz from a distance.
There was probably a better way to do this, but Brantley wasn’t worried about that right now. Corinne was down in the basement, and provided Dugan didn’t make a run for it, he wouldn’t be able to use her as a hostage.
He moved to the back door, gave it a quick assessment. Door looked new, but the knob did not. No deadbolt either, which would make it easier to kick in. Holding up three fingers, he counted down. On one, he kicked in the door with one well-placed boot near the knob. A second later, he heard the sound of the front door being kicked in.
