In the Clinch: A Kira Brightwell Novel

Chapter 2

2

The rubber soles of Kira’s running shoes pelted the gravel, sending it flying in a shower behind her. Her long, dark ponytail streamed in the air over her shoulders. A trickle of sweat slid down her face to land on her upper lip. She wiped it away with the back of her hand with a trace of annoyance, her mouth filling with salt. Her arms and legs pumped in a steady rhythm. The early morning sun reflected off the dark asphalt to her right, winking against the windshields of vehicles as they whooshed past every few minutes in an exhaust-scented breeze.

It was almost winter, but that didn’t mean much in California. She had already unzipped her hoodie to reveal her blue tank top underneath. Still, it wasn’t exactly shorts weather—for most people, anyway.

The shoulder of the two-lane highway wasn’t ideal for running, but it was better than nothing. At least the road wasn’t that busy. There weren’t any gyms around for miles, and she had desperately needed to get out of the cabin. Being cooped up for days in the middle of nowhere with only Trevor Wright for company would have been enough to drive her stir crazy, but she had so much more on her mind since the abduction and rescue of her nephew, Kevin. Trevor had offered to spar with her to help blow off some steam, but his rudimentary boxing skills were no match for her MMA training.

The ominous opening chords of Nine Inch Nails’ ‘In Two’ poured from her headphones. Her stomach tightened. The thumping beat was the perfect tempo for running, but the raw, almost accusatory tone of Trent Reznor’s voice, combined with the lyrics seemed to echo the swirling turmoil of her own thoughts. She knuckled down and leaned into the next hill as the road sloped upward, trying to find some form of expiation in her burning muscles. She ignored the honking and leers of a passing van full of frat guys and kept her gaze on the road ahead, losing herself in the music.

Who am I?

It seemed almost as if she had slowly morphed into a different version of herself over the past four-plus years since her abduction by the Procurer—or maybe even several different versions. First there had been regular Kira, the college graduate and general black sheep looking for direction. Then there was Kira the Hero—the Girl Who Escaped.

Yes, she had escaped her own abduction and saved several other women in the process. Yes, she had helped others since then.

But it always came with a price.

Her fellow abductee, Clarissa Hunt, had been killed by the Procurer after their escape for knowing too much. Rachel Norman had been abducted to take Kira’s place after her escape. Rachel had been twisted into a willing tool by Carlo Traversa and then killed by the Procurer as well. Then there were the others Kira had been too late to save, or who had become collateral damage: Elena Lopes, the victims of Dr. Jacob Hall, and now Sam Woods…

She never forgot those names, or the faces of the corpses she found.

Sam was the most recent murder victim of the Procurer. His death had been made to look like an accident, but Kira knew better. Sam had been the childhood friend of a boy named Kurt Harrow. Kurt had gone missing during the Eighties, after becoming the ward of his uncle when his parents were killed in a car accident. If Kira’s suspicions were correct, Kurt Harrow and the Procurer were one and the same.

Sam had been the one remaining tie to the Procurer’s old life, when he still had a clear identity. Sam hadn’t seen or heard from Kurt since he had disappeared. He had tried repeatedly to get the police to look into the disappearance. He knew Kurt was afraid of his uncle, but he had no idea what kind of things were going on up at Russ Harrow’s cabin in the woods. No one did.

But then Kira had found a tenuous link to a series of cold cases of girls who had gone missing from around the same area in Nevada, which eventually led her to a collection of trophies at Russell Harrow’s cabin. She had found Sam completely by accident along the way. He had been eager to finally find someone who was interested in his missing friend after all these years.

And now Sam was dead.

If I hadn’t talked to him, he would still be alive.

Kira shook her head to herself. A traitorous thought lurked to the surface:

If I hadn’t talked to him, I wouldn’t have made the connection between Kurt Harrow and the Procurer.

But even learning the identity of the Procurer had been a hollow victory. All ties to Kurt Harrow had been erased. Kira didn’t even know what the man looked like, aside from a childhood photo Sam had emailed to her before he died.

And then there was Kevin.

If Kira had any doubts about her suspicions, they were shattered by Kevin’s abduction. Her investigation in Redcliffe had clearly struck a nerve. Until now, he had always treated her with an amused tolerance. He was an abductor for hire—his moves against her were never personal.

Until now.

Kira’s family held her to blame, of course. She couldn’t help but agree with them. If not for her investigations into the Procurer, Kevin would have never been taken. She doubted her sister Kori would ever speak to her again.

Kira knew her nephew had been a pawn. The Procurer had used him as a message to show her how much she had to lose.

He had sent other messages as well.

Candid photos of Rob’s younger sisters had been sent to her phone. They had been sent to Rob as well. Rob had always been her closest ally—her best friend, roommate, resident hacker, and the champion of her ‘problem solving’ business. He never left the apartment, so he got to contribute to the cause while staying in relative safety.

But now the stakes had changed.

She and Rob had argued before she had left La Valentia for the cabin. Like her family, he wanted her to drop the hunt for the Procurer. It had all been fun and games before, but now his sisters’ lives were at stake.

And then there was the photo of Nick Foster. Kira didn’t know whether the Procurer had sent it to her detective friend as well. She and Nick had fallen out shortly before Kevin had been abducted. The Procurer was clearly trying to isolate her. One by one, he had cut her off from the few people who were close to her—using her own actions to damn her in the process.

Enter Kira the Obsessed.

For four years, she had been trying to track down the man who had abducted her and all those other women. She knew they weren’t his first victims, and they definitely hadn’t been his last. And the Procurer had been playing cat and mouse with her all this time, always one step ahead. He even called to congratulate her whenever she somehow managed to make a step in the right direction—until she had gotten too close.

She couldn’t let it go. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t imagine herself walking away now.

The police still had no idea about the identity of the Procurer. Kira was closer than anyone had gotten before. And as long as he was still out there, people would be in danger.

But could she keep going after him, knowing it would endanger her family and friends?

I could always just hand everything over to the police.

But she knew she didn’t want to. Part of her never forgot that Peter Croft—the Procurer’s employer in her first official case—had been killed in his cell in police custody. What kind of connections did the Procurer have on the force?

Her stomach twisted in a guilty knot. As reasonable as her suspicions were, she knew they weren’t the main drive behind her reluctance to hand things over.

This case was personal. She had been the one to get this close. The Procurer had marked her as his opponent—the only victim to ever escape on her own. All those dead faces that haunted her dreams, Clarissa’s tortured screams as he had raped her in the next room of that farmhouse… Kira wanted him to pay for what he had done.

And she wanted to be the one to take him down.

But at what price? She was willing to risk her own life—she had already done so, repeatedly. The Procurer had known that. And now he had cut her legs out from under her by targeting those she cared about instead.

I have to figure this out. There has to be a way. I can’t just stay holed up at the cabin forever…

She had spent days agonizing over the decision with only Trevor for company. Her former high school tormentor had somehow become her unlikely rock.

The Procurer hadn’t bothered to target Trevor—possibly because he and Kira had never been that close. She had nothing to do with Trevor after high school—until his sister Stephanie had been taken three years after Kira’s own abduction. Since Stephanie’s rescue, Trevor had become something of an unwanted sidekick. Over time, he had wormed his way enough into her affections to begrudgingly earn the title of friend.

Kira felt her face flush at her uncharitable assessment.

He’s the only one who’s been there for me.

She knew she might have ended up doing something stupid if she had been left all alone in the cabin like she had originally planned. Trevor was stubbornly cheerful, and was quite good at cajoling Kira out of her recent black moods of guilt and frustration. But with all that said, Kira would always be an introvert at heart, and it was impossible to be alone with her thoughts with Trevor hovering over her.

Not that being alone with my thoughts is making them any more productive…

An old woman in an ancient-looking boat of a car swerved onto the opposite side of the road to give Kira a wide berth at what amounted to a snail’s pace. The woman gave her a disapproving look. Kira resisted the temptation to veer into the road toward her, just to see her reaction. She eventually left the large car behind as she crested the top of the hill.

Focus, Kira.

She knew she couldn’t go on like this. She was starting to drive herself crazy. She desperately wished she could get some reassurance from Rob, but he hadn’t even texted her since she had left town. She had thought about reaching out, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want anything to happen to his sisters, but she also didn’t want the Procurer to roam free when she could do something about it.

Trevor had offered to hire protection for Rob’s sisters, but Kira didn’t know whether Rob would accept. His relationship with Trevor was even more tenuous than her own. And why would he accept such an offer when his sisters were guaranteed their safety if Kira just walked away?

Ugh. This isn’t getting me anywhere.

Was she willing to be just regular Kira again? Maybe even Kira the Hero Who Only Focuses on Non-Procurer-Related Cases? In some ways, she wished she could go back to a time before all this had happened. Hadn’t things been simpler then?

As the road leveled off, her thoughts continued to churn. She shoved them aside—for the moment, at least. Trent’s voice had taken on a raw, uncertain tone as the end of the song approached. Then the beat picked up once more, accompanied by layers of overlapping sound that washed over her. Kira took a deep breath from her burning lungs and ran as if she were leaving all of her problems behind her.