“Just because you’re poor doesn’t mean you have to live like a slob. Looks to me like this guy just lives like this because he’s too lazy not to.”
“Well, let’s take a look.”
They quickly went through the kitchen and the small bedroom. Outside of the fact that the place was filthy throughout, not a whole lot to be found.
“No mail is even here, nothing identifies anybody, so what the hell is going on here?”
“He ditched this place. That is what happened,” Quinn said, as they walked back into the bedroom. Then they stopped and stared.
“So what’s that on the walls?” Ryland asked.
“Handcuffs,” Quinn said.
“Handcuffs,” Ryland repeated, and then he whistled. “So is this just for fun and games?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”
“But we can’t judge them for their sexual activity.”
“As long as it was agreeable to both parties, no,” Quinn said. “But we can’t tell that yet.” He walked closer, took a look at the handcuffs on the wall, and whispered. “I wish I had my tool kit here.”
“Why? What you see?”
“These cuffs are covered with dried blood.”
Chapter 1
Ryland Roscoe and Quinn Santor stared grimly around the small space—Bullard’s niece Isabella’s, last known address—their gazes coming back to the bloody handcuffs attached to the bed and what it could imply.
“Well, it could be consensual sex games because they can get rough, without it being a kidnapping/captivity scenario.” Quinn added doubtfully, “but that’s very rough sex to be covered in dried blood.”
Not sure where this led, they quickly took photos of the bedroom and checked the closet.
“Women’s clothing in here,” Ryland muttered.
“Interesting. Do we know what size Isabella is?”
He turned, looked at him, and frowned. “Last I saw her—which had to be about four years ago—she was pretty small, like five foot, maybe 120?”
“Any of those clothes in that size?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, “but what do I know?”
Quinn pulled out a few pieces, looked at them, and said, “Leggings. They look like they would fit anybody.”
“That’s the thing about leggings, they stretch,” Ryland said. With that in mind, they did a more thorough search, checking out the kitchen drawers, which were mostly empty. However, the cabinets held some dishes, pots, and pans.
“I wonder if she took off fast because I highly doubt this guy even knows how to cook,” Quinn muttered.
“True, but we need to find some paperwork to give us an ID on the occupant. Otherwise we’ll go roust the other guy out of bed and see who and what the boyfriend’s name is.”
As they shifted the couch off to the side, Quinn saw some paperwork left behind. “Well, something’s here.” He pulled it out and read the label. “Chester. The mail’s addressed to Chester Langley.”
“Interesting,” Ryland said. “That name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“No, not for me either. But you know what that’s like.”
“True.”
Just then, a knock came at the door. The two men looked at each other and froze. But the door opened, and in came the same guy who they had been speaking to earlier, the neighbor Ozzie.
“Hey, did you see any signs of Dracon being here lately?”
“Dracon? Is he the one who lives here?”
At the neighbor’s nod, Quinn held up the envelope and asked, “Then who’s this guy then?”
“Yeah, just a friend of his who stayed here for a while.” Ozzie looked around and wrinkled up his nose. “Man, he lives like a pig.”
“Apparently. And so you say Dracon lives here now?”
“Yeah.”
“Where does he work?”
“He doesn’t. Last I heard, he got laid off,” he said. “But what do you expect? The guy’s a bit of a loser.”
“A bit?”
Ozzie slid him a sideways look. “You really don’t know much about his relationship with Izzie, do you?”
“No,” Quinn said. “She’s the niece of a friend of ours. We came to make sure she was okay and to let her know about her uncle.”
“Well, she probably won’t want to see any male for a while,” he said. “Izzie’s a really nice person, but this Dracon guy’s been an asshole.”
“What kind of an asshole?” Quinn asked, his stomach hardening at the thought of what could be coming.
“He beat her up pretty good. I know he kept her captive for a while, and then she got loose.”
“And you knew about it and didn’t do anything?” Ryland asked.
Ozzie looked at him. “The guy’s a loser, also pretty scary as hell. Besides, I didn’t know that she’d been held captive, until I helped her get out of here,” he said. “And, if you tell Dracon that I helped her, well …”
“We won’t,” Quinn said, “but we really want to have a talk with this guy now.”
Ozzie looked at them carefully for a long moment and then nodded. “You won’t help him, will you?”
“No, we’re trying to help her.”
“Well, I didn’t even know she needed help,” he said, raising both hands in frustration. “I meant it when I said she was a nice girl. She should have left a long time ago.”
“And maybe she couldn’t,” Ryland said. “Did you consider that?”
“Now that I think about it, that’s probably exactly what it was,” he said. “And, like I said, it was a long time ago. She hasn’t been around for probably a year.”
“Good. So how long were they together?”
“Not very long. And I think she buggered off right away. He’s been kind of keeping this place barely floating. I don’t even know how he pays for it actually.”
“That’s something I would like to know too,” Quinn said.
At that, Ozzie shrugged and said, “Nothing in here to steal.”
“Is that what you do in here?” he asked almost humorously.
“Hey, you opened up the guy’s door, and I’m here out of curiosity. If I’d seen anything of Izzie’s, I’d have taken it, saved it for her.”
“Doesn’t look like anything of hers is here, although clothes are in the closet.”
“Well, she didn’t take anything when she left, so they are probably hers.” He looked around, shrugged, and said, “Dracon could have been such a great guy. Instead, he was just an asshole.”
“Good to know,” Quinn said. “Unfortunately, it’s also sad.”
“That it is. But whatever, I’ll leave now.”
“You do that.”
They waited until he was gone, and Quinn turned to face Ryland, “Was he as innocent as he wanted to appear?”
“I am not sure,” Ryland said in the doorway.
“We don’t have a last name on him either, do we?”