“It’s okay,” Dugan began, his eyes locked on Lauren. “Remember what I told you, honey?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.
Daddy? What the fuck? She had called him her husband. The guy was so fucking twisted.
“We have a plan, right?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“That’s what we need to do, baby girl.”
“Dugan,” Brantley warned, his gun coming out, aimed directly at Lauren. “Tell her to put down the gun.”
They had her trapped between them. There was no way she could do anything.
“Laur—Emily,” Brantley correctly. “Put the gun down. We just need to talk.”
“I can’t do that,” she said softly. “Daddy told me what I need to do.”
“Emily, no.”
Shit.
Reese knew where this was going and he’d be lying if he said his gut didn’t churn with anxiety.
Tucking his gun into his holster, he took one step forward as Lauren lowered the shotgun, turning it so the barrel angled up, toward her head.
“Emily, don’t do this,” Brantley shouted.
Not thinking, Reese cleared the few feet between them, tackling Lauren to the ground, sending the gun clattering to the floor.
In an instant, she was kicking and punching, screaming at the top of her lungs. Lauren Tyler was more animal than human in that moment, which spoke to the hell Dugan had put her through.
Brantley was there, kneeling down, pinning Lauren’s hands to the floor as Reese attempted to cuff her with the zip ties he’d brought with him. That didn’t stop her from thrashing around, kicking and flailing. She was going to hurt herself if she wasn’t careful.
Reese looked up at Brantley, received a nod.
It took a little longer because her adrenaline was flowing, but Reese managed to apply enough pressure to knock her out. He hated to do it, but she deserved mercy. Perhaps the EMTs could give her something to keep her under. At least for the time being.
“Call for backup,” Brantley ordered Baz. “And get an ambulance.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Reese told Brantley. “Go get Corinne.”
Brantley was on his feet in an instant. The next he had disappeared down to the basement.
Chapter Eighteen
Brantley made quick work of the padlock on the basement door before flinging it open and starting down the stairs. He kept his weapon raised, looking for a threat, praying there wasn’t one but willing to do what was necessary if there was.
Luckily, the coast was clear. Only one person in the basement and she was on the other side of the metal bars on a cot.
“Who are you?” Corinne called out, her voice trembling.
“Corinne? My name’s Brantley Walker. Your parents sent me to get you.”
“Oh, God. Please,” she cried out, a sob following.
He made it down the stairs, saw the solid door to the room she was kept in. The padlock was a joke and it took him less than thirty seconds with the correct tools to pick it and pull the door open wide.
Brantley didn’t make any quick movements as he stepped inside, not wanting to send Corinne into a panic. It was bad enough they’d been holding her down here, naked, with only a blanket.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
Corinne pulled the blanket aside, revealed her left ankle and the fact that it was shackled to the bed frame.
He could hear the sirens outside, grateful the cavalry had arrived.
Taking out his phone, he called Reese. “Have Baz bring down a blanket. Somethin’ from his car. Not from here.”
“Will do.”
He disconnected the call, looked over at Corinne.
“We’ve got the police and an ambulance on the way. My partner’s upstairs, as is an APD detective helping with the case.” He unlocked the cuff around her ankle, then helped Corinne to her feet.
“Is Lauren all right?” She laughed softly, though it was humorless. “You know what I mean.”
“Looks like they had a plan if they were ever found. She was supposed to take her own life, but we managed to stop her from doing that.”
“Oh, my God.” Corinne breathed roughly. “He’s crazy.”
More than a little, Brantley knew.
“She’s safe now. I’m sure it’ll be a long recovery for her, but she’s okay. Physically, anyway,” he assured her.
“I can’t believe he kidnapped her. Kept her here all this time.”
“Not just here,” Baz said when he met them halfway down the stairs. “And not just her.”
Corinne stopped short.
“This is Detective Buchanan,” Brantley explained as Baz passed over the blanket. “He’s workin’ the case alongside my task force. Turn around, Baz.”
When the detective turned around, Brantley helped Corinne to replace the wool blanket with one she hopefully wouldn’t associate with that crazy bastard.
“He’s got more girls here?” she asked when she was appropriately covered.
“No,” Baz told her, meeting Brantley’s eyes.
He saw it then. The truth. There were more girls, but likely, Lauren Tyler was the only one he’d kept alive.
“Come on,” Brantley encouraged Corinne. “Let’s get you to the ambulance. Have them look you over. Your parents are on the way.”
