Silent Key by Laurel Hightower

Author:Laurel Hightower
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult; female detective; supernatural; gothic fantasy; dark fantasy; creepy stories; dark suspense
Publisher: Flame Tree Publishing
Published: 2023-08-24T09:24:33+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Morgan? Talk to me, are you all right?”

There was silence for heart-stopping seconds before he groaned.

“I’m here. That’s about all I can vouch for.”

Relief flooded my body, and I leaned down to get close to the Russian’s ear. “That voice out there is the only thing keeping you alive. You better be glad he’s in a position to talk.”

He snarled something unintelligible, which I ignored, turning my attention back to someone I gave a shit about.

“Morgan. Are you hurt? Can you move?”

A sharp intake of breath. “Yeah, yeah I can move.” Several shuffling steps and he stood over me, hands pressed to his side.

I looked up, scanning him for injuries, wishing I could touch him. “Are you shot?” I asked.

“No. He clocked me pretty good in the head, and my ribs have seen better days, but nothing life threatening. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’d be sore in a couple of hours but for now the adrenaline kept the pain at bay. “Are you good to go back to the house?”

“Like hell – I’m not leaving you out here alone with him.”

“He’s not getting up, but I need something to secure him.”

With another intake of breath and a muffled yelp, Morgan peeled his shirt off, then knelt and used it to tie the man’s wrists together. I rolled him over again and checked his arm where I’d shot him. The bicep was torn and bleeding, but I hadn’t gotten an artery. I got him on his feet and we all three limped back to the house, our prisoner twisting to look behind us every few steps, back in the direction of Bert’s place. I looked, too, but there were no noises, no lights. Was that where he’d been taking Morgan? I shuddered, thinking of anyone getting locked in there with that. But had the man’s presence been what stopped the loop before? Would it again? I had no answers, and little faith that Ally would be able to provide them.

By the time we got back sirens were blaring up the gravel road leading to the two houses. As we approached the pit pen the dogs went nuts, growling, howling and barking, lips pulled back to reveal twenty sets of sharp teeth.

Our prisoner refused to take another step. “You shoot me if you are to kill me. I will not go in the pen to be eaten by wild dogs.”

“It’d serve you right, you fuck,” Morgan growled, as menacing as any of his pits. “If you hurt ’em, I’m throwing you over the side.”

“No, no, I only threw rock to make it squeal.”

Morgan leaned close and grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt. “You threw rocks at my dogs, you son of a bitch?”

“Cam? Eric?”

“We’re back here, Ortiz,” I called.

The sheriff rounded the corner, gun drawn but at his side. “You caught the guy?”

“This is him. He needs medical attention – one GSW to the left arm, might be a sprained wrist.” I looked at the way he hunched over. “An ice pack for his nuts.

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