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I crossed my arms. “Fair enough. So what’s the play? Should I handle it myself—find her, kill her, dump the body somewhere it won’t tie back quick?”

“No,” Colin cut in sharply, his eyes narrowing with that cold calculation. “You kill her and it’s just more corpses piling up. They’ve already found Jessica’s body. Another dead girl? That’s unnecessary heat.”

“So what then?” I pressed. “We can’t ignore her. She’s already talking. If she—”

“We don’t ignore her,” Colin interrupted, taking another drag. “We contain her. Keep her alive as proof of life if anyone comes sniffing around, but somewhere she can’t get away from and can’t talk. That buys us real time to sort the rest of this mess.”

I considered it, nodding slowly. “How the fuck do we pull that off long-term? Can’t just stash her in your basement forever.”

Colin’s smile spread slow and nasty. “I’ve got the perfect solution. In the Oregon woods. Secluded as hell, perfect for her. We deliver her tonight. No one will ever find her unless we decide they should.”

“Tonight?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? Last thing we need is some half-assed handover that bites us later.”

“He’s family,” Colin said, crushing out his cigarette. “He owes me big. They’ve got the space, the setup, everything. Trust me, they know exactly how to handle girls like Marcy.”

I gave a short nod. “Alright. Let’s gear up then. In and out, efficient.”

Colin turned and walked down the short hall into his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him. I stayed in the living room and checked my watch. The girl’s muffled screams started up again from inside. They grew louder, raw and desperate, then suddenly turned gargled and choked, like something thick had been forced down her throat. Wet, broken sounds followed.

A couple minutes later the door opened and Colin stepped back out, wiping his hands on a dark rag. His face was calm, almost serene, the same look he got after a good workout.

“Alright,” he said, voice steady. “Let me clean up and let’s get ready to go.”

Hours later we moved with practiced efficiency, dressed in all black, gloves, boots. Colin drove, calm as ever, while I sat shotgun. The city lights faded behind us as we headed to Marcy’s apartment complex.

We parked deep in the shadows at the rear of the complex, the lot mostly empty. Colin killed the engine. “Let’s go.”

We slipped toward the building like shadows. The back stairwell smelled of damp concrete. Colin picked her door lock in seconds flat. We eased inside, closing the door silently behind us. Steam still hung in the air from the bathroom. Marcy had just stepped out of the shower, towel barely wrapped around her wet body. She froze in the hallway, eyes going wide with shock.

“Oh my god—! Help! Help!” she gasped, voice rising into a scream as she stumbled backward.

I lunged, clamping a gloved hand hard over her mouth and muffling the cry. She exploded into a frenzy thrashing wildly, nails raking at my arms, towel slipping away to expose slick, warm skin. Her heels kicked hard, catching me in the shin. Colin moved in fast from behind, wrapping his powerful arms around her torso and pinning her flailing limbs.

“Hold her still,” he said coolly. “She’s got some fight in her.”

I pressed my hand tighter against her face, feeling her teeth bite down on the glove in desperation.

“Stop fighting, Marcy,” I growled low in her ear. “You’re only making this harder on yourself. Should’ve minded your own business.”

We dragged her struggling, naked body toward the living room, her wet feet slipping on the floor. Muffled screams vibrated against my palm as she bucked and twisted with everything she had. Colin zip-tied her wrists behind her back with a sharp zip, then secured her ankles tight. I ripped my hand away and slapped the duct tape across her mouth, sealing her screams into frantic nasal whimpers.

Her eyes were huge, filled with raw terror and spilling tears. She shook her head frantically, body jerking against the restraints.

“Shut the fuck up and listen,” I said calmly, gripping her chin. “You brought this on yourself by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Colin hauled out the large dresser trunk. Together we folded her roughly inside, knees crushed to her chest, naked body crammed tight like cargo. She bucked and thrashed violently, rocking the trunk as muffled thuds echoed. I slammed the lid and latched it securely.

“Efficient,” Colin noted approvingly. “Let’s move.”

We carried the heavy trunk down the back stairs, every step deliberate and quiet. We loaded it into the backseat then pulled out smoothly into the night.

The drive started in comfortable silence, broken only by the steady muffled thumping and desperate noises from the trunk. After twenty minutes on a deserted backroad, Colin glanced over.

“Give her some air. Don’t want her passing out yet.”

I cracked the trunk lid a few inches. Marcy’s tear-streaked, sweat-soaked face stared up, hair plastered to her forehead. Her eyes were wild with fear.

“Stay calm Marcy. Don’t do anything stupid,” I said.