denied bail.
Barrett Taylor was sent back to jail to await a trial date.
It wasn’t what he wanted, and it definitely wasn’t what Jeremiah Raver had wanted. The Dallas media had already picked up on it, and on the bounty Wyrick had put out on the men coming after her. It only made the story bigger. The Church of The Righteous had finally gotten media attention, but not in a good way.
* * *
Sonny was recovering slowly from his near emasculation, but at least he could walk now. His dick was still purple and sore, and it hurt to pee. He just hoped he’d be back in working order when he healed. And the scratches Rachel had put on his chest were scabbing over.
He wasn’t messing with her again. She’d turned out to be a big disappointment, and it was time to move on. She was feverish before. Maybe by the time he went back she’d be dead, which would save him the trouble of killing her.
But he wasn’t quite up to speed strength-wise, and so he decided to wait at least another day or so, until he knew he was strong enough to move the body. He also knew she’d be hungry, but so what. She could die on an empty stomach as easily as on a full one, and it served her right.
* * *
Rachel had no idea how long she’d been in the dark. She’d stayed awake until fever took her under, and now she was in and out of consciousness. The cut on her throat was swollen and too sore to touch, and her body throbbed with every heartbeat.
She dreamed her mother was with her, whispering in her ear to stay strong. Sometimes she thought she could hear Millie talking just outside the door, but no matter how hard she screamed, Millie never heard her.
Other times she dreamed the doorway was open, and imagined Sonny coming at her in the dark, but she didn’t have any legs, so she couldn’t get away.
In her more cognizant moments, she had enough sense to get up and feel her way to the sink to drink. She could live a long time without food, but not without water, so staying hydrated became her conscious focus.
She lost the knife, and spent frantic moments trying to find it, before she passed out. When she woke up again and couldn’t see, she thought she’d gone blind, and screamed. It took a few moments before she remembered, and then she started crying.
“Please, God, please let this be over. Either let me die, or send someone to find me.”
Eight
Wyrick spent a good half hour looking for blueprints and then realized time was not on their side. There were records of blueprints, but none of the really old ones were online, and even if she found the location of the ones for Detter House, requesting the copies would take days.
She was frustrated with the red tape and lack of online availability when it dawned on her that the current owner might be able to help, so she sent a text to Wayne Dyer requesting the owner’s name and phone number.
Within minutes Wayne responded with the name, Allen Carson, as well as his cell number, and a message that he was emailing the list of residents to her.
Wyrick then did a quick search of Allen Carson before she called him, just so she’d know who she was talking to.
A picture popped up of a fifty-something man who looked a little bit like Robert De Niro. According to the info, he was a self-made multimillionaire, twice divorced, three grown kids and no black marks against his credit or his business practices. It was enough to start with, so she made the call.
* * *
Allen Carson was winding up a business lunch at the Dallas Country Club when his cell phone rang. He saw Dodge Security and Investigations come up on caller ID and frowned. He’d never met Charlie Dodge, but the man’s reputation preceded him, and so he stood.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to take this,” he said and stepped out of the dining area. “Hello. Allen Carson speaking.”
“Mr. Carson, my name is Wyrick. I’m calling on behalf of Dodge Investigations in the hopes that you might be able to assist us on a case that happened on one of your properties.”
Allen took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he was actually speaking to the Jade Wyrick, and had to make himself focus.
“Um... I don’t understand,” he said.
“Oh, of