‘No sign of a vehicle,’ Cord whispered.

Tony waved his hand over the ground. ‘But one’s definitely been here recently. You can tell by the tire tracks that they’re a few days old, at best.’

Both men turned to Alyssa. ‘What’s the play, boss?’

‘From the air photos, it appeared there was only a front door and that window there as possible means of escape. So, Tony you take the back, Cord, you take this side, and I’ll go in the front. If he’s here, he’s not getting through us.’

Everyone checked their weapons before moving over to their assigned posts. Ignoring the sudden chorus of high-pitched, howling coyotes, Alyssa waited until the guys were in place before ducking low and heading to the front door, careful not to put her foot through the rotting steps. Listening for any sound of movement, she moved in closer to the door, sucked in a deep breath before expelling it, and then used the side of her fist to pound loudly on the door. Her heart skipped a beat when it screeched open, revealing someone’s leg.

She took several calming breaths in and out before switching on her flashlight and slowly peeking around the splintered doorframe. When her eyes adjusted, she released a string of curses, and while she didn’t holster her weapon, she did switch the safety back on before carefully navigating through a pile of rubbish to the end of the porch where she called out to Cord and Tony. ‘He’s here. But we won’t be taking him in, at least not in the way we’d hoped.’

Inside, Tony located a light switch that operated a solitary bulb suspended from a broken light fixture. On, it cast a small amount of flickering light into the room.

There in front of them with his back against what appeared to be a stack of milk crates, legs bent crookedly beneath him as if he’d been kneeling before his death, was Adam Campbell, mouth agape, eyes bulging open, part of his face missing, brain matter spattered onto the walls and floors around him, arms flung out to his sides. His right hand still gripped a gun.

Closing her eyes, Alyssa rubbed the middle of her forehead. Adam Campbell was supposed to be her key to getting some answers, but more importantly, if not a little selfishly, she needed to know why he’d targeted her daughter, how he’d come to be in possession of photographs from a sex trafficking ring shut down five months ago.

Opening her eyes again, her gaze ping-ponged from the insects already taking up residence in the gore that had once housed a human over to Tony, who seemed unable to look away from the grotesque display in front of them.