Where the Blame Lies - Mia Sheridan Page 0,126

time to call for backup. No time to call for S.W.A.T. Zach leaned backward, waving to the unmarked car across the street, hoping the officer would understand his meaning, and make the call. Zach eyed the standard lock, not exactly flimsy, but nothing that couldn’t be kicked in. “Yup.”

“I’ll let you take care of that,” Jimmy said. “I got the brains, you’re the one with the brawn.”

Despite the adrenalin coursing through Zach’s system, he gave his partner a wry look and stood back, taking aim before kicking the door swiftly and with all his strength. The wood splintered, door swinging open.

“One try. Nice, Hercules,” Jimmy said as they both took cover on either side of the doorway. Zach raised his gun as he pie’d the entryway.

“Cincinnati Police!” he shouted.

For a moment there was only silence and then they heard what sounded like a distant moan, and a soft thud. Zach’s gaze flew to Jimmy’s, and Jimmy nodded.

Zach went in first, clearing the area, Jimmy following. The soft moaning was coming from below. They moved through the house, using the tactics they’d perfected during their days in uniform. Adrenalin flowed swiftly through Zach’s veins, his breath coming more quickly as his body geared up for a potential fight.

Jimmy nodded toward a door next to the kitchen where something else made a soft thud from below. He pulled the door open and they both moved to the side. “Cincinnati Police!” Jimmy called down the stairs, peeking around the doorframe and quickly moving back. He reached his hand around and flipped on a switch and then nodded to Zach. “All clear.”

They moved down the steps, calling out their arrival and sweeping their weapons in both directions once the stairwell opened up.

Zach drew back at the stench that met his nose when they turned the corner of the stairs, into the main room of the unfinished basement.

The sight that met his eyes made vomit move up his throat. He swallowed it down, moving forward, toward the human form that sat propped against the wall, one hand chained behind his back, moaning piteously.

Professor Merrick.

His face was a mask of dried blood, and meaty skin as though he’d been carved up. And his nose was missing, two skeletal holes gaping in the middle of his face. The smell of urine and feces made Zach gag. He’d obviously been sitting like this for several days if not longer. Next to him lay water bottles, some empty, some full. Hydration to keep him alive until he was found.

Holy Christ.

Footsteps sounded above, voices calling out. The cavalry had arrived. As Zach turned to call out their location, he noticed words written on the wall in what looked like the professor’s blood: Bellum finivit. Zach only knew a handful of Latin words, but he could figure that one out.

The war is over.

Zach called out to the officers above, telling them the scene was secure and to call a bus. The professor needed immediate medical attention.

“Cope,” one of the officers said as he passed. “We found Reagan Hutchison chained up in one of the vacant homes on Victor Street. She’s alive, just dehydrated and malnourished. She’s being transported now. She’s okay. We got her.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Zach’s eyes remained trained on the door, his heart leaping when it began to open. He stood, along with Mr. and Mrs. Davies and their lawyer. Josie entered first, her lawyer following. Zach attempted to make eye contact with her, but she kept her gaze lowered. He tried to read her expression, but whatever she was feeling she was keeping tightly under wraps. His heart ached. He longed to reach out to her, to touch her. He’d driven Josie to the hospital two days before where she’d broken down at Reagan’s bedside, both women laughing and crying and hugging each other until Reagan’s doctor came in and told her she needed to rest. Zach had been caught up in the whirlwind of Charles Hartsman’s disappearance, the crime against the professor, and everything else that had hit the department like a hurricane.

He’d called Josie the few times he’d come up for air, but her friend Rain had answered the phone. She’d assured him in whispered tones that Josie was okay, just sleeping a lot. Rain was staying at her house temporarily and told him haltingly that she could hear Josie pacing her room in the wee hours of the night.

The knowledge just about broke Zach. And a memory came to him from the time he’d stood guard outside

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