“All over.”

“Okay. Let us know when it hurts too much.”

He felt like there was a golf ball in his throat as the paramedics worked over her. When they were satisfied that they wouldn’t risk damaging her more, they lifted her onto a stretcher and took her toward the ambulance.

“What’s with her? Do you know her?” Lewis asked, coming to stand beside him.

“I don’t know her. She’s not important right now,” Russ said.

They walked around the ranch, and Russ spotted an uneven ratty old carpet. Pulling it out of the way, he groaned. Underneath were some of the bodies of the women.

“I fucking hate this part,” Russ said.

“We need to get their identities, and go back to the hospital,” Lewis said.

“Did you find her?” Russ asked, which he asked every single time they did this.

“No. I didn’t.”

It was becoming the story of their lives.

****

Anna stared up at the television screen. The tears had dried up, and the pain had lessened. The drugs they were pumping inside her helped with most of the pain. Jake, the bastard who had been beating her, was a fucking coward. He hit hard, but he didn’t hit hard enough to kill her. She had hoped for death, and it hadn’t come.

Now she was in the hospital being treated for her injuries.

She had a concussion and a huge lump on her head from hitting the cage. Her face was bruised, and she had a split lip. Three cracked ribs, several bruises, and her arm was broken. They’d had to set it, and it was now in a case. Her leg was also in a cast as well, as a precaution for a suspected fracture. She was a mess, and she didn’t even want to think about hospital bills. There was no way she was ever going to be able to afford her medical bills along with the fact she’d missed work, and her job was probably gone.

Life would be easier if she had died.

Tears fell from her eyes, and with her good hand, she wiped the tears away.

Noise at her door had her turning toward it. There was something vaguely familiar about the man dressed all in black. He had to have been the guy who helped her out of the cage.

“Are you Anna Little?” he asked.

“How do you know my name?” Her throat was even worse than the day before. When Jake had been beating her, she’d used every opportunity to scream, curse, shout, and fight. Her throat was hoarse.

“You were reported missing by your boss when you didn’t turn up for work.”

“Mrs. Lions reported me missing?” She worked at her supermarket every single day of the week, including overtime. Anna had even gone to work when she was poorly just to save money so she and Karen could start their own venture into the world of business.

“Yes, she said it was not like you to not be at work.”

Anna took a deep breath. Someone had known that she was missing.

“The police had to wait twenty-four hours for you not to turn up.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

It was hard for her right then. She had believed no one would care if she was alive or dead.

“Would it be okay if we contacted Mrs. Lions? She has been contacting the police every hour to find out if you’d been found.”

“Yes, you can tell her that I’ve been found, and where I am.”

She didn’t think Mrs. Lions liked her all that much, but she must have cared to be so persistent.

“I’m Russell Wyatt,” he said.

“You’re the man who opened the cages?”

“Yes, and this is my friend, Lewis Cox.”

She nodded toward the new man. “Is there anything wrong?”

“We have some pictures that we need you to go through to see if you can identify some of the women that were found.”

Anna nodded. “Anything I can do to help.”

Russell moved closer and took a seat near her, reaching for the large photographs from Lewis.

He lifted them up, and started to show them to her.

Some of the women she had never seen before. “I don’t recognize them.”

“They’re from other incidents similar to yours.”

“Other women taken?”

“Yes.”

“These are the women that were killed at the place you were held.”

He held up one photograph.

“I know them, but I don’t know their names. I could tell you the cage they were held in, and how they died.”

When he held up Karen’s picture, she broke down, taking it from him.

“Do you know her?”

She nodded. “Yes, I know her. She was my friend. We were in, erm, foster homes together. We were like sisters.” She touched her fingers to her friend’s face. The picture of Karen was taken when she was dead. “She was a diabetic. When they took us, she didn’t stand a chance.”




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