I find the crutches hovering in my face, again. I grunt as I put them under my armpits and watch as the old lady opens the small door, ready to walk inside.
I can smell death.
I swing my crutch up against her ample bust, halting her.
“Wait. I’m going in first.” The chances of somebody being inside a locked hangar alive and ready to kill is a long shot, but my caution has kept me alive in the past.
Always be the hunter, never the prey.
I toss the crutches to the ground, pulling the gun out the back of my jeans, taking the safety off, and positioning her behind me.
Opening the door has tripped an automatic light. The fluorescent tubes are flickering to life, blinking away as the inside of the hangar reveals itself. I don’t look at her. “Stay here.” My heart thumps with dread. Whisper is the only name on my mind.
I take a step inside; my gun raised and ready. I can’t help coughing because the stench is indescribably bad. There appears to be no imminent danger, not unless the fuckers are invisible. It’s empty except for a pushback tug, used to move planes in and out of the hangars, and it’s sitting alone in the far corner.
The inside of the hangar appears smaller to what is depicted on the outside, and it’s surprisingly modern. I observe the structure until it clicks what they have done.
The outside is simply a camouflage. The original hangar is blending into the countryside. From the air, it would look old and abandoned, but the inside is newer. The floor is polished cement.
I’ll be fucked.
I’m in a hangar inside a hangar. And then I see what is making the fucked up smell. There are two pairs of legs sticking out behind some stacked up supplies to my right, fifteen or so feet away.
I move closer, my free hand covering my nose as two bodies come into view, lying beside each other on a tarp on the floor, and that’s when I can see a third body lying covered beside them, up against the wall. A sheet has been laid over the much smaller, slimmer body, my guess a female.
Fuck!
I tense my jaw, grinding down on my teeth, and look away. It’s then I can see the blood splatters and larger stains on the floor. At least two of the people were killed in that spot.
The old lady lets out a little gasp of horror when she sees what I’m looking at. I move to where she stands. Her small hand locks onto my arm as her eyes search mine for answers I can’t give her at the moment. “I thought I told you to stay put. Don’t move from here while I check the bodies out.” She should have stayed outside.
“Do you think it’s…?” She can’t even say Whisper’s name. She doesn’t have to.
Jesus Christ.
“Just do as I say,” I bark at her, and tear my arm out of her hold, making my way back to the corpses. Fear for Whisper’s life has my temper flaring.
I didn’t need to see the faces of the other two to know it was Ebony and Ivory lying face down; their clothes told me that much. Looks like I can cross them off my list. Lucky fuckers got it easy.
I hold off checking the other one, maybe because I need to delay knowing if it’s Whisper underneath that sheet. She was last seen with these two. It isn’t looking good.
I note the closed door to what appears to be an office farther down and bypass the bodies to quickly check it’s empty. I don’t need any more surprises or dead bodies.
I reach the door and turn a warning glare on Miss Catherine. She hasn’t moved. She’s just staring, entranced by the bodies. This has my mind wandering briefly back to the third person. I’m almost dreading checking who is under that sheet.
It can’t be Whisper, not with a debt being owed. Not unless she died before they could get her on the plane.
I rest my head on the door and curse low under my breath. I need to keep my head in the game. I turn the doorknob and fling it wide open, stepping to the side, my gun raised. I can see well enough to know it’s empty. I flick the light switch and give it a quick once over. It’s clear. I’ll come back to check it properly for any clues shortly.
I hobble back to the bodies. She hasn’t come any closer. “These are the two who abducted Whisper from the house.” I point to the uncovered dead. Ebony and Ivory were definitely executed. “These two were shot point blank range. You can tell from the hole in the back of their heads.” They didn’t even see their executioner coming. They were comfortable being close to their killer. They must have royally fucked up, or the top dog thought them dispensable. I would not have been so kind. Their deaths would have been torturous and slow.
“And the other?” The old lady’s voice is quivering, but she hasn’t moved.
I place a hand over my nose and mouth, trying to keep the stench of death away as I lean down awkwardly, peeling the sheet back. I let out a whoosh of breath I didn’t even know I was holding in when I identify the corpse isn’t Whisper.
I hadn’t wanted to let on to Miss Catherine how great my fear was that it could have been Whisper’s body lying here. And then I take a closer look, gently moving the stray hairs off the female’s face.
“Motherfucker!” I shout, my voice ricocheting off the hangar walls. I hang my head. It’s Santana. She was under the protection of the Lion’s Den MC. She didn’t deserve this.
What are the chances Ruby, who is under the Soulless Bastards protection and disappeared around the same time as Santana, could still be alive and all three disappearances are connected somehow?
“Edge?” Miss Catherine’s voice cracks, riddled with fear.
“It’s not Whisper,” I call back to her. I hear the cry of relief from the old lady as she moves to come closer. “Stay where you are.” My roar echoes before getting absorbed into the walls.
She doesn’t need to see all the death. “This female is somebody the Lion’s Den MC has been missing. She is under their protection, and she up and disappeared around nine months ago, and so did one of our girls around the same time. We knew nomads had abducted them. They were hoarding the two females’ personal belongings in their possession like trophies. Tried to make them talk. Two of the most stubborn fuckers I’ve met.
“They had been lost to us. No more leads to finding their bodies, so we were left with assuming the nomads had killed them for kicks. We located their parents, but both sets were drunks and drug users and didn’t give a fuck about their daughters.”
Were they taken because it was thought they wouldn’t be missed?
Santana had been alive all this time.
Were they specifically handpicked and not a random act?
Was it thought that Whisper wouldn’t have people who cared about her?
Is this what my father had assumed in that fucked up brain of his? That she was a nobody all her life, and upon his death, she would remain that way, a sitting duck for me to dispose of for him.
“I’m sorry, Edge.” The old lady’s words softly drift down to me. And I know she is. They are full of sorrow at the loss of this female’s life. I’m sorry too.
I take out Whisper’s phone and snap photos of the bodies and close-ups of their faces. There’s nothing pretty about a stiff that has been dead for several days. It’s totally fucked up, but I don’t hesitate to check them over for anything that could give us more information, but they’re clean.
Santana’s wearing nice clothes. Her shoes have been removed and she was shot in the back. If she was trying to escape, then this is why she would have been executed. Dressed the way she is, she would have had heels on. It makes sense with the blouse and tight skirt. So where are the shoes?
Something had gone wrong for these three to be gunned down. All had been shot with the intent to kill with the first bullet.
Whoever did this wasn’t fucking around.
Santana’s body had been covered up, giving her a little dignity. The person who did this cared enough to do so.