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Marching inside, he found the checkout counter, surrounded by various kinds of aquariums and terrariums, and approached with purpose. The young man clad in a blue T-shirt looked up with wide eyes at the detective's approach.

"Help you find something, man?"

Riaz glowered and flashed his badge. "Your manager," he snapped.

The young man paled. "Uh, sure . . . hold on a sec."

The kid stepped quickly to the back and returned less than ten seconds later with an older man in tow. The kid found something else to do as the older man faced Riaz.

"What can I do for you, officer?"

Riaz did not bother to correct the man. "You keep all your transactions on record?" he asked curtly.

Intimidated, the man nodded. "Uh, sure. Everything's on file in our computer."

"Talon Tolomeo," Riaz said. "Eleven days ago, he made a purchase in the amount of around a hundred and thirty dollars. I want to know what he bought."

The man thought a moment, brow furrowing. "Talon Tolomeo?" he asked.

Riaz nodded.

The man managed a small laugh. "Don't need a computer for that," he said. "Kid's pretty distinctive. Comes in with his twin brother sometimes. They ain't easy to miss."

"What do they buy?"

The man rolled his shoulders. "Mice," he said.


"Yep. Special kind. White field mice. Bred for high protein. Best thing for snakes, you know."

Riaz's eyes narrowed. "What kind of snakes?"

Again, the man shrugged. "Really, any kind. Mr. Tolomeo said he has a snake farm. About twenty snakes. Rattlers, I think. Yeah. Rattlers. Pretty sure."

Riaz gritted his teeth. "He comes in often?"

The man nodded. "About every other week. I give him a price cut 'cause he's a regular. Forty white mice for one-twenty. Plus tax, of course. Normally, the damn things are four bucks a head."

Riaz gave a short, shallow nod as he stepped back. "Thanks for the information," he said, then turned and left just as purposefully as he had arrived.

The sky was dark with the threat of a torrent as he tapped on his phone while standing beside the sedan. "Captain," he said in a brusque tone. He spoke over the man on the other end. "I know where the Tolomeo boys are. They're at the old quarry on Solms Mill Road in Morris County, and they've got June. I'm on my way. Get that fucking deadbeat sheriff to send every unit he's got. I'm not gonna wait for them, so they better God damned hurry."

He switched off the phone, dropped it into his pocket, and took out the pistol from the holster just behind his right hip. Extracting the clip, Riaz counted the rounds within, then shoved it back home and racked the slide, chambering the first round.

A quick glance at his watch gave him the time, mockingly reminding him it had been nearly five hours since June had been taken from the Richards Family farm.

You better not be dead, he thought morbidly, then jerked open the door of the sedan and slid inside.

* * * *

June squirmed against the bonds that held her. She lay face-down upon a soiled old mattress that reeked of mildew and other unpleasant odors. Shackled by handcuffs -- her own, ironically -- her ankles and wrists were even more immobilized by the heavy, rusted old chains with their ends anchored into the earthen floor. Even more unpleasantly, as if to hint at the worst of indignities yet to come, a rolled-up towel had been positioned beneath her pelvis, elevating it obscenely.

The cold air elicited goosebumps from her naked flesh. Her clothes had been stripped away and taken elsewhere before Thorne and Talon had secured her, kicking and screaming, to her current confinements. Then they had left.

She had looked about the room she was in. It was little more than a rough-hewn cavern, with uneven walls, dirt floor, and a gathering of simple appliances at one end. A small refrigerator, an aging stove that looked to belong in some 1970s sitcom, and a small square table with four metal-framed chairs about that had seen better days.

But all of that was circumspect compared to the brick-lined edge of th

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