By the time they reached Miramar, darkness had set in. The neighborhood they drove through had quiet streets, trimmed lawns, and warm porch lights. All normal.
Parker’s townhouse sat near the end of the cul-de-sac. No lights. No vehicle in the driveway. They knocked on the front door, anyway.
Silence followed. No movement from within.
“Looks like we’ll have to wait,” he said.
“Not like we haven’t done it before,” Dev said, unfazed.
A woman walked past with a small dog. Noticing them in the drive, she stopped. “Are you looking for Jack?” she asked.
Dev gave her an amiable smile. “We are.”
“He keeps odd hours,” she said. “Especially when his wife and kids are up north visiting family.”
Leland’s gaze collided with Dev’s. Abuser, possible predator, and now a cheater. Jack Parker’s list of offenses kept getting longer.
“Appreciate it,” Dev said.
She nodded and continued on.
Leland watched the townhouse for another moment. The neatness of it irritated him. The cut grass and the hanging baskets of flowers. Men like Parker hid behind ordinary lives while women paid the price for it.
Headlights swept the street. A sedan pulled into the driveway. A man climbed out—clean-cut, pressed shirt, mid-thirties was Leland’s guess. Except for shorter hair, he matched the driver’s license photo of Jack Parker.
A brunette climbed out after him, laughing softly.
Parker spotted them halfway to the door. His smile didn’t falter. “Can I help you?”
Fake charm. Leland knew it on sight.
He moved before Parker could process the threat. He caught his shirt in a fist and slammed him hard against the siding. Leland pressed a forearm across his throat, lifting him enough to steal his balance.
Not choking. Not yet.
The woman screamed.
Dev didn’t move.
“How does it feel,” Leland said quietly, “to have someone’s hand at your throat and not be able to do a damn thing about it?”
Parker clawed at his wrist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Sure you do.” Leland increased the pressure. “Play party. Pretty blonde. You got rough.”
Recognition flashed then fear. “I didn’t. I mean… It was a bondage scene, and she agreed.”
“You like blondes, don’t you, Jack?”
Parker’s breathing turned shallow.
“How many women from The Underground never made it home?”
The brunette stopped crying. “What?” she whispered.
Parker shook his head as much as he could and choked out, “You’ve got the wrong guy. Jesus Christ, I was at the party, but I don’t know anything about missing women.”
Dev’s phone rang. He answered without taking his eyes off Parker.
