Copper's Keeper: Slaughter Series Book 3
Copper's Keeper: Slaughter Series Book 3
Copper's Keeper: Slaughter Series Book 3
Copper's Keeper: Slaughter Series Book 3

Copper's Keeper: Slaughter Series Book 3

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Every small town in Connecticut has its secrets, but none are as shocking as Melington’s

After the riots, Melington becomes the primary target of an FBI investigation. The Council is more ruthless than the town has ever seen. And a national spotlight shines brightly on the mysterious cases of missing children.

But there is one secret that no one knows better than Alan Carter.

As children outside Melington start disappearing, Alan Carter knows that Copper Tibet has grown more powerful than ever before.

No child will be safe. Anywhere.



Chapter 6

It took Ivan Pullman thirty seconds to unlock the back door leading into the Cole house. He frowned in frustration, upset that he still wasn’t fast enough to break his own record, and toyed with the idea of locking the door and trying again. Pocketing his tools, he decided that there would be other times for practice. Besides, the Cole house was creepy enough without having to spend more time here unnecessarily.

He had received Elizabeth Gardiner’s message a few minutes before, a warning about the FBI agents that were looking into the missing children cases. That in itself, had hyped him up a bit, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to face the agents and really showcase his talents.

Ivan closed the door behind him, walking swiftly through the small vestibule that served as a storage room for the family. The second door was unlocked, and Ivan could immediately feel the stale air inside of an abandoned house the minute he opened it and stepped into the first floor hallway.

The interior of the house was as majestic as the exterior; lavishly decorated with large paintings across the wall. The Coles obviously viewed themselves as royalty amongst the other residents of Melington. Then again, why wouldn’t they? The position of Chairman had been passed down from one Cole to the next, and Ivan wondered if it had more to do with brute intimidation rather than actual approval. From his dealings with the current Council, most of its members were pathetically spineless.

Except for Brewster. The current Chairman was something else entirely. From the few times he had actually met with the man, Ivan already knew that William would be more trouble than he would have liked. The old man was smart and knew how to cover his back. Ivan was impressed with how the Chairman made sure their only contact was through Elizabeth Gardiner.

Ivan pictured Elizabeth in his mind as he slowly made his way down the dark hallway, his flashlight illuminating the way. The woman was definitely a catch, and he mused at the relationship she had with the Chairman. She failed miserably at hiding her hunger for power, and it only made sense that she would stick close to Brewster during his tenure as Chairman. He could imagine her jumping for his position the minute the old bastard croaked.

Elizabeth was one attractive prize, though, and Ivan couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the attention the old man was getting from her. Ivan would make it a point to say goodbye to her properly once he was done with his assignment.

The house sighed around him, the floorboards creaking softly with his footsteps as he gently traced a line across the wall and walked into the living room. The curtains were drawn, yet he kept his flashlight aimed at the floor, giving the space just enough illumination for his eyes to adjust and make out the surroundings.

Most of the house was devoid of anything interesting, and Ivan quickly abandoned a useless search in dresser drawers and kitchen cabinets for the study. Elizabeth had given him a detailed description of the house, and Ivan had concluded a while back that if there were anything to hide, the study would be the place to do it.

Very cliché, Ivan.

The study was near the east end of the house, its door hidden into the wall of a nook bordered with large, Victorian windows. Ivan doubted that the illusion was intentional, but it would have easily been overlooked if he hadn’t known what to look for. He pushed into the large space, a massive mahogany desk surrounded by shelves of books and more paintings which were probably less valuable than they looked.

Ivan turned off his flashlight and switched the lights on, the lack of windows a welcoming comfort that he would not have to worry about raising suspicion. The room lit up in various colors and shades of brown and red, the scent of polished wood was strong as he quickly scanned his surroundings, picking out areas of interest. He had to be efficient, especially since he would not get another chance to comb through the house once the Coles returned for Daniel’s funeral.

Ivan thought it strange that they would leave in the first place.

He made his way around the large desk, impressed with how organized things had been left. He flipped through a few papers, and when he decided they were useless, he settled heavily into the large chair. He drummed his fingers on the armrests, eyes scanning the desk drawers before opening them, one by one. He scanned the files within, quickly sifting through them and tossing them aside when he realized they were useless. He ran his fingers along the edges of the desk, looking for any signs of a switch that might open some hidden compartment within the desk, but was rewarded with more of the same. Nothing.

Ivan sighed as he abandoned the desk and made his way to the paintings, lifting them one by one in search for a safe, and slamming them back into place in frustration when he was greeted with blank walls. The couch was unimpressive, and even the small coat closet was a dead end. After a half-hour of searching, the realization slowly set in that maybe the study had been a bad call from the onset.

Ivan stared at the large bookcase, barely taking in the various picture frames and growing more interested in the titles of the old volumes. A lot of them had to do with business and management, volumes upon volumes on politics, and of course, history.

A few stood out of place, though, several volumes on the occult and old religions. Ivan reached for the first of these, pulling it off the shelf and dusting the cover. Flipping through the pages, noticing handwritten notes here and there which must have belonged to Daniel Cole. Ivan wondered what the man’s fascination with this topic was all about. From what he had heard about the man, the former Chairman did not strike Ivan as the superstitious type.

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