Cache a Predator Read Online Free PDF Page B

so loud it echoed off the walls. He grabbed his crotch and shivered. “Did you see that stub? This is some scary shit!”
    Brett laughed with him. “Makes me want to wear iron briefs under lock and key.”
    When they heard the crime crew entering the house, they sobered up. Clay spoke first. “Search for the missing part. He’ll never piss right again if we don’t find it soon. I think it has to be sewn back on within twenty-four hours.”
    “How do you know that?” Brett said.
    “I cut off the tip of my finger when I was a kid, and they had to sew it back right away.” He showed Brett the tip of his pointer finger. “I’m assuming it’s the same for any body part.”
    The forensics teams scattered, each going to work in separate rooms, dusting for prints. Clay and Brett combed the bedroom first, finding nothing. “Looks like our guy was thorough.
    They searched the rest of the house but only found hidden porn magazines and rolled joints wrapped in aluminum foil in the freezer. There was no weapon or evidence of a forced entry. They collected the bedsheets and clothing and placed them in a bag. Clay pulled the cord on the computer out of the wall socket and placed it in a box with the other evidence.
    On the way back to the precinct, Clay snorted, laughed, and squirmed. “It’s kinda funny, but it’s not. Once this gets out, every guy will be sleeping with one eye open.”
    Brett dialed Ali again. Still no answer. His clock read 11:34 a.m. “Do you mind if we stop off at my house first? I need to check on Quinn. I told her I’d be home for lunch.”
    “Sure.”
    Brett turned down the side street and waved at the neighbor walking her dog. His fingers trembled as he pulled into his driveway.
    “Everything looks cool from here,” Clay said.
    “Give me a few minutes.” Brett ran up to the house and turned the knob. This time it opened. Why had Quinn unbolted the door after he left? A panic bell rang. As he entered, he smelled stale cigarette smoke and a hint of the pancakes he’d made earlier. “Quinn? Ali?”
    No answer. Where was Max? He always greeted him.
    Brett went into the living room. Ali lay under a blanket on the couch—as if she hadn’t moved since he left. “Allison!”
    No answer. She didn’t budge.
    He nudged her shoulder. “Ali, where’s Quinn? Where’s Max?”
    Her eyes fluttered. “Hmm?”
    Brett gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Where’s Quinn?”
    “Let me go.” She sat, waved her hand, and pushed him away. “I don’t know. She was here a minute ago.”
    “You haven’t moved since I left four hours ago.”
    Brett dashed through the house to the kitchen. “Quinn?” The same mess still cluttered the table and the sink.
    He hurried to Quinn’s room. The door was shut. He turned the handle, but it was locked. Their rented home had been built more than twenty years ago. The landlord had told them Quinn’s room had been an office, which was why it had a keyed lock on the outside. Brett had never removed the lock because they’d never used it—except once. Quinn had been two and hadn’t wanted to stay in her room at night. She kept sneaking out, and Ali said she worried Quinn would roam out into the street, so she’d locked her in. When Brett discovered the locked room, he’d been livid with Ali.
    Now, he shouted across the house. “Did you lock Quinn in her bedroom? What’s going on?” He pounded on Quinn’s wooden door.
    No answer.
    Brett stormed back into the living room. Ali sat hunched over with her head in her hands.
    Brett snaked his fingers through his hair. “Did you lock Quinn in her room? Where’s the key?”
    Ali shook her head, shrugged, and stuttered. “I can’t … remember … where I put the key.”
    Brett’s chest tightened. He ran to the coat closet and fumbled with a hanger, bending it and straightening it as he ran back to Quinn’s room. “Quinn, it’s Daddy. I’ll get you out in two seconds.”
    There was no sound.
    He jammed the