There were signs of recent activity. Mattresses lay strewn in the cells, chains bolted to the walls in different areas. Scratches were etched into the paint in several of the rooms. They looked like desperate marks from victims who had lost track of time.
We stepped into one of the bathrooms.
The stalls were still damp with condensation, so we missed whoever had been here.
"Fuck!" I yelled. "They must have left just a short time ago. Shit!"
"Jesus," Jacob muttered. "This isn't just a holding cell; this is a processing site."
I removed the mask from my face. The air was stale and rancid, making it difficult to breathe. Jacob did the same.
I looked at my partner, rubbing my chin.
"I couldn't agree with you more. They shuffle the victims through here, then deliver them to a compound, but which one?" I asked, feeling annoyed.
I pointed forward.
"Let's see what else we can find in this disgusting pit. Stay close behind me."
Jacob nodded.
We pushed deeper into the building, passing rooms that looked like huge cages. The scent of iron assaulted my nose. I remember that smell vividly.
There was no mistaking what it was. Large red stains covered one of the concrete floors.
The person whose blood this belonged to most likely died at the hands of their abuser. I prayed it wasn't Kitten.
With our guns still drawn, we moved forward down another corridor with more cells.
"Is anyone here?" I yelled.
Crickets. Nothing but my echo bouncing off the walls.
I looked at the ceiling. There were cameras everywhere. Even though we disconnected them, there would still befootage in the building. If I couldn't find anything in the history, I would have to call Zach and have him retrieve them.
I gestured toward Jacob.
"Come on. There's no one here. Let's look around and see where the cameras are connected."
"Gotcha, boss."
We kept moving, checking every room with a door without success. I was frustrated. After about five minutes, we stormed into a small room— finally! There it was—all the evidence we needed.
Multiple monitors filled the area. Some were dark, but a few still flickered, replaying old grainy videos. We stepped closer, looking at the dates. This footage was recorded two months ago. I didn't have time to go through them.
The clock was ticking, and I didn't want to waste even a minute on shit I wouldn’t need.
The only videos I wanted to see were from earlier today with Kitlyn and Becca. We had an issue, though. I didn't know how to bring them up with this equipment.
These high-tech monitors were well above my pay grade. There were switches and knobs everywhere on what looked like a mixing board. I knew how to look up shit on my computer and cell, but I had no goddamn clue what the hell this fuckery was.
I looked at Jacob.
"Do you know how to run this shit?"
He laughed, rubbing his forehead.
"I mean, I can do the basics on my laptop and phone, but this stuff is fucking complicated."
