A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

Then the significance of the discovery hit him. This was not the key Connor had taken out of Austin’s pocket earlier. Connor still had that one—now in his own pocket. Which meant this had to be the key for the van.

At first, he was surprised Dylan had found it where she had. But then it made sense. Austin wouldn’t want to keep the key on him. If anyone asked, explaining it might prove difficult. You have two vehicles? Where’s the second one? And he probably figured it was safest in the glovebox, since nobody knew the van was here and a person would need either the key to the padlock or bolt cutters to get past the double doors hiding it.

But the key wasn’t the only thing in the glovebox. There was another black-on-black mass, barely distinguishable from the shadows surrounding it. Connor aimed the light on the back of his phone directly into the glovebox so he could get a better look. It turned out there wasn’t one item, but two.

He pulled them out, knowing he probably shouldn’t be touching them, but unable to resist the urge. The gloves and the Taser. If the van wasn’t enough to convince the police Austin had abducted his parents, this sure would be.

But even so, it didn’t do anything to help him answer the central question: Where were his parents? If he went to Olivia with this information now and if the police arrested Austin, would he tell them? Connor doubted it. Austin would likely claim he was innocent, despite the evidence. Since he was the man who had abducted Connor’s parents, he was also the man who had burned two bodies in a parking garage. He was going to jail for the rest of his life if he admitted what he had done, so why not take his chances with a jury?

But that wasn’t the biggest problem with telling Olivia about what he had found. If he called her to report the evidence, she would ask them to stay where they were until she could get to the house. She would want statements from all of them, would want to know exactly what had happened that had led to their discovery of the van. Connor doubted he would get into much trouble for drugging Austin, but it would cost them time. And once the police arrived, they would take the keys, impound the van, send a CSI team to investigate this house and Austin’s apartment. Connor would lose access to everything. Eventually the machinery of the NYPD would spit out his parents’ location, but would it do that while they were still alive? Connor worried it might not.

And right now, they were still alive. They had to be.

Connor was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that, even though he had a clear view of the road, he didn’t notice when a Mustang pulled up in front of the house and a man got out.

The man—Austin—charged straight toward the van. “Connor!”

Connor looked up just in time to see Olin spin around, raising the baseball bat to his shoulder like he was anticipating a pitch.

Austin put up his hands, but kept coming. Slowly now. At least until he reached the dumpster, where he stopped to pull out a broken two-by-four. The piece of wood was about three feet long and had nails sticking out of it on one end where it had previously been joined to an intersecting board.

Connor suspected it had been part of the wall they had demolished a couple of days earlier. “Stay here,” he said to Dylan as he slid the gloves back into the glovebox and climbed out of the van.

She ignored him and hopped out of her seat. “Three’s better than two.”

Her defiance annoyed him now even more than it had when she’d insisted on getting in the van, because now she was putting herself in danger. But at least she was standing on the other side of the vehicle, farther from Austin than Connor and Olin were. As long as she stayed there, she should be all right. “Where are our parents?”

“It’s not what you think.”

Connor held up the Taser so Austin could see it, then pressed the button, hoping the weapon was charged. Electricity flashed between the Taser’s prongs. “I’m asking the questions here. Tell us where our parents are.”

Austin backed up a step. His eyes darted from Connor to Olin.

In a move that surprised Connor, Olin screamed as if he were a warrior and charged at Austin, bat up. All this time, Connor had assumed Olin’s repeated requests to advise the police of what they had found and his reluctance to, as Connor had put it, “stretch” the boundaries of the law were manifestations of cowardice. It seemed now that was not the case. It was a matter of ethics, a respect for the institutions and norms of society that drove his decision making. Because right now, when standing only feet from the man he knew had taken his parents, Olin had no trouble unleashing the testosterone-fueled energy that no doubt drove him when he was playing soccer and football.

He swung at Austin. Austin ducked and charged forward. He slammed his shoulder into Olin’s stomach, knocking Olin off his feet, and ran.

Connor cursed and broke into a sprint. Olin leapt up and went after him without having to be asked.

Austin was moving faster than Connor would have ever thought possible. He darted across the front yard and disappeared behind the far side of the house.

Connor never heard the window break. But when he and Olin rounded the corner along the backside of the house, he saw the shattered glass and the two-by-flour lying on the ground.

“He must have gone inside,” Olin said.

That didn’t feel right to Connor, but he couldn’t say why. And he didn’t have time to think about it. Everything right now was about split-second decisions. So when Olin crawled through the window, careful not to cut himself on the jagged