Ynez had been looking behind the other trailer, and came back to them and said, “It looks like someone set off on foot that way”—he pointed east—“and a truck followed him. He must have circled back, and the truck made some donuts out there, then came back this way.”
“It’s smart,” Jack said. “One truck pursues him, the other stays here. Sean steals the Chevy, the other truck follows, rams him, drives him off the road.”
“So where did they take him?” Lucy asked. “If they wanted to kill him, wouldn’t they leave him in the truck?”
Her voice cracked at the end, but she didn’t break.
“We need to search the Chevy, top to bottom,” Jack said. “Maybe there’s some clue as to where they have been holding Kane. It’s going to be someplace close by.”
“Why would you say that?” Joe said.
“They need a remote location, one where trucks coming and going in the middle of the night aren’t going to attract attention. And they need no interruptions through tomorrow morning. They could be using an abandoned barn, a warehouse, a farmhouse, flooded trailers like these.”
Joe said, “I need to look at a map.”
“I got one back at my car,” Ynez said. “I know what you’re looking for. This is my town. I was born and raised here. There are probably less than a dozen properties that meet those criteria in a five-mile radius.”
* * *
Lucy’s cell phone rang as Ynez and Joe were looking over a map and making notes. She wanted them to find something, but the truth was, they didn’t have the team to go in hot at even one place, let alone half a dozen or more. She and Jack had searched the Chevy, but there was nothing that pointed to where they had Kane—or where they’d taken Sean.
“Kincaid,” she answered.
“It’s Frank Cardenas.”
Padre. “We found where they were holding Sean. He’s gone.”
“I don’t know where Juarez is keeping them, but I know where Juarez is staying.”
“What do you mean?”
“Juarez hired a small local gang out of Hidalgo to help him. Michael Laredo is part of the gang. They mostly do petty crimes, sometimes get paid by the cartels to move product, but it’s small potatoes compared to other entry ports. The gang leader is a guy by the name of Ralph Gomez. He’s well liked by his men, but not the sharpest tack. His girlfriend has a house in Santa Maria, she lives there with his two kids. According to my source, Juarez is staying there.”
“Gomez is letting him stay with his family?”
“The kids are young, Lucy. Eight and ten. He could have paid or threatened Gomez, but I’m leaning toward paying. Hire a local criminal gang to work with your core team. It makes sense. But Juarez is not going to want to leave any loose ends, and now I’m worried about Gomez’s family. I’m not saying to let them off, Lucy—I’m saying that they probably didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. They’ve never been violent. I’ve worked with some of the kids before—Gomez doesn’t retaliate if someone walks away.”
“So?” she snapped. “They took this job, they knew they were kidnapping two people.”
“And Juarez could have told them anything he wanted, and Gomez probably believed him. I’m already on my way there. I have an idea.”
Jack was listening to the conversation as well, his head close to Lucy’s. When Padre was done explaining, Jack said, “It’ll work.”
“Will it?” Lucy said. “They could have seen you, Padre. Juarez could know you and Kane are friends.”
“When I wear my collar, people don’t see me as an individual, Lucy. Trust me—just give me a little time.”
“We don’t have time.”
“We have enough.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lucy hated Padre’s idea. Fortunately, Jack kept quiet as they sat down the street from Gomez’s girlfriend’s house. It was five thirty in the morning and the sky hadn’t even started to lighten. The last three hours had been somewhat of a blur between searching the trailers, inspecting the crash site, and studying maps. And right now, Padre’s idea was the best they had, no matter how many ways Lucy could see this going wrong.
FBI SWAT was stationed at a business a quarter mile away, keeping a low profile, but ready to deploy. An unmarked FBI vehicle with two agents parked on the opposite end of the street from where Lucy and Jack waited. A second SWAT team was waiting at the sheriff’s substation to the east, if needed. Joe and Ynez had stayed at the flooded field in case someone returned. Joe was worried about his brother, and Lucy didn’t blame him. If Peter had given up the keys to Sean—voluntarily or involuntarily—he could be punished by Juarez or his people.
Juarez didn’t condone weakness.
Padre drove up to the house in his personal vehicle, an older Ford truck. Lucy used binoculars to see better. He stepped out, his cleric’s collar bright white in the dark. He knocked on the door, waited. Knocked again. A moment later the lights went on, and a woman answered. She wore a modest bathrobe that she held closed.
They’d wired Padre, and he had a safe word. One word and Jack and Lucy would come.
“Ms. Doreen Chavez?” Padre said. “I’m Father Cardenas from St. Rose’s in Hidalgo. I’m sorry to disturb you so early in the morning.”
“Is something wrong? My mother?”
“Not your mother, but we need to talk. It’s important.”
“Of course—I—Okay.”
He stepped into the house and she closed the door. Lucy had no visual, but the wire was working.
There was only one truck parked on the street that wasn’t registered to any resident, and Lucy suspected it belonged to Juarez or his men—if Padre was right and he was staying here.
“Would you like some coffee, Father?” Doreen asked.
“No, thank you. I’m here because a mother in my parish is very worried about her son. Peter Quezada is seventeen. His truck was in an accident only a few miles from here, and there was some blood on the steering wheel, but Peter wasn’t there. The police called Mrs. Quezada, but she doesn’t trust them and she called me. She wants to find Peter, make sure he’s okay. He’s worked for Ralph Gomez in the past, and Ralph’s mother told me you and Ralph are friendly.”
“Yes, he’s the father of my children. But why come here, Father? I don’t understand.”
“I first went to Peter’s best friend’s house, but he’s missing, too, and his mother thought he was at Peter’s. Peter’s mother thought Peter was at Juan’s house. You can see the issue, now that Peter’s truck was found. It was seriously damaged and his mother is gravely concerned. I’d hoped Ralph was here, that maybe he had hired them for a job and that’s why they were out so late. Mrs. Quezada does not want the police involved, and I want to respect her wishes. I need to find these boys and bring them home, safe.”
Lucy wished she could see the woman’s face. She was much better at reading expressions than she was tone.
“Juan Laredo?” she asked.
“Yes,” Padre said.
“I know him. Michael, his older brother, is friends with Ralph. But I haven’t seen either of them. Ralph was here Wednesday to see the kids. He’ll be here tomorrow, we always go to church together.” In a slightly different voice, almost guilty, she said, “I know we’re not married, but it’s okay that we go to church, right?”
“Of course, Doreen. You’re doing right by your children.”
“Ralph just sometimes . . . well, if he’s not here, I don’t know where he is. Sometimes he takes jobs out of town.”
“Is something wrong?” Padre asked.
“No, of course not.”
Lucy straightened. What did he see that she couldn’t hear in the conversation?
“Doreen, what are you scared of?”
“N-nothing.”
Now Lucy heard the fear in her voice.
A little girl with a sleepy voice said in the background, “Mama, where’s Bobby?”
“Christina, go back to bed.”
&n
bsp; “I heard voices. And Bobby isn’t sleeping in his bed.”
Padre said, “Ms. Chavez, where is your son?”
“You need to leave, Father. Please. Just go. Go, go now.”
“I can help you.”
“No, no you can’t! He has my son!”
“Ralph?”
“I asked you to leave.”
“Was a man named Felipe Juarez staying with you for the last couple of days?”
Silence.
“I know he was, Doreen,” Padre said quietly, but firmly.
“My son,” she wailed.
“Mama?” the little girl said.
“Doreen, are those bruises on your wrists? Your neck? Did someone hurt you? Did Ralph do this to you?”
“Ralph has never laid an unkind hand on me! If you don’t leave, that man will find out, he will take my boy.”
“I will get your boy back.”
“You can’t. This will all be over in a few hours, then Bobby and Ralph will be home.”
Lucy had listened to enough. She got out of the car over Jack’s objections. She trusted her brother completely when they were in the field, when planning an operation, but when it came to questioning an unwilling subject, Lucy trusted herself the most.
She approached the house and knocked loudly on the door. Padre answered it. He didn’t look happy with her, but Lucy didn’t care.
She closed the door behind her. “Ms. Chavez, is there anyone currently in this house other than you and your daughter?”
She shook her head.
Lucy showed her badge. “I’m FBI Special Agent Lucy Kincaid, and if you want your boyfriend and your son to survive to see the sunrise, you need to tell me right now where they are.”
The woman shook her head. Christina began to cry, and Lucy pushed aside the guilt that the little girl was scared.
“You are an accessory to felony kidnapping and assault. If you don’t help us, and anyone dies, you will then be an accessory to first-degree special-circumstances murder. That means you will go to prison and you will not see your children before they graduate from college.”
“Kincaid!” Padre said sharply.
Doreen was sobbing.
“We did it your way and your way didn’t work,” Lucy told Padre. “Now we do it my way.”
“They’ll hurt my boy,” Doreen said through tears as she clutched her daughter.
“I will do everything in my power to return Bobby to you safely. But right now, Bobby is in far more danger if you remain silent.”
“An old dairy barn, up county road 503,” she said with a loud sob. “I don’t know exactly where, but all Ralph was supposed to do was find a remote place that had privacy. He brought that man here Wednesday—said it was only for a few days—but I haven’t seen Ralph since then. Then that awful man took Bobby. Woke him up an hour ago after he got a call, I don’t know why or who. I said no, he hit me. And he just took my baby. Told Bobby that he could see his father, that it would be fun. But that man isn’t doing anything good, and I’m scared. He told me if I was good Bobby would be back this morning. That’s all I know, I swear to God, Father, that’s all I know!”
Lucy reached into her pocket and retrieved one of her business cards. She stepped forward and handed it to Doreen. “I know what he did to you. Call me and I can help.”
“Nothing. He did nothing.” But she wouldn’t look Lucy in the eye.
“Doreen,” Lucy said quietly, “I know. Don’t bury the pain, don’t deny it happened, don’t blame yourself. Call me,” she repeated. “I will find you help.”
“Just get my son back. Please. Bobby’s only ten years old. He’s a little boy. I . . . I need to hold my son.”
Lucy turned to Padre. He was looking at her differently, and she wasn’t certain he wasn’t still angry with her. “Can you stay here with them?”
He nodded.
“Thank you,” she said, and left.
Chapter Fourteen
Shouting woke Sean up.
He startled awake, sat up quickly, every muscle in his body sore and aching. But nothing felt broken, thank God.
“Be still,” Kane said quietly.
Kane was tied against a support beam in the middle of an old barn. Tied well, it seemed—he hadn’t been able to loosen or get out of his restraints. Likely because of the noose around his neck—if he moved too much, it would tighten.
“You brought my son here? How dare you!” a man was shouting. “How dare you touch my child!”
“Watch your tone with me, Gomez,” Juarez said.
The men were near the front of the barn. With them was a boy about ten wearing jeans and a pajama shirt. He looked scared, tired, and cold.
“You brought me incompetence! I was told you had a good crew, a smart crew. You’re all idiots.” Juarez pointed to Sean. “Why is he not tied? Do it!”
“I got it, Ralph,” another man said.
Juarez pointed to one of his own men and motioned for him to go with Ralph’s friend.
It was now clear who was who. Gomez, this guy, the two teenagers, and two other men were a local gang. They didn’t have any serious gang tats, nothing Sean recognized. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, he wasn’t well versed in street gangs. But they weren’t one of the major violent gangs, and they all sounded American, even when they spoke Spanish. The two teens had been tasked with watching Sean, along with two other Gomez goons. Sean figured because Kane was the more serious threat, the better-trained soldier, and the real target. Sean was just icing.
Juarez had at least six of his own men. Most were patrolling outside, but Juarez’s right hand was keeping tabs on them—he had a radio and was getting regular reports. He stood off to the side, heavily armed, watching everyone. And then the thug came over to tie Sean up.
They dragged him to the other side of Kane, where they were back to back. Damn, he was sore, mostly his chest, but he didn’t think a rib was broken. Maybe cracked, but more likely just sore from the seat belt when he crashed. It was his head that really throbbed, and he was pretty certain he had a concussion. Dried blood clogged his nose and he breathed through his mouth.
Right now, the most interesting—and troublesome—dynamic was the kid. From what Sean could piece together, Juarez had been staying at Gomez’s place, and after Sean escaped, he grabbed his kid and brought him here. As leverage, perhaps, or a threat. Sean would kill Juarez himself if he harmed the child, who was both confused and terrified.
They didn’t search Sean, which was a big plus—he’d found the knife in Peter’s truck and it was now buried deep in his front pocket. He exaggerated his pain, hoping that they wouldn’t truss him up too tightly. Gomez did an adequate job, but Juarez’s guy tightened the knots.
Jerk.
When they left them, Sean whispered to Kane, “Do you have eyes on the boy?”
He felt him nod.
“What’s the plan?”
“I’m thinking.”
That wasn’t good. Kane always had a way out, even in desperate circumstances.
“I have an idea,” Sean said.
“I’m listening.”
“We need Peter.”
Silence.
“The kid with the green Vans shirt. He helped me after I escaped. He came along because of his friend, had no idea what was going on. From what I gathered, his friend is the other teen, in blue. And one of these guys is his brother. They all work for Gomez, though the kids—I think they were duped.”
“They’re too scared to act.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“If you get him, what next?”
Sean hadn’t gotten that far.
“If he can get the kid out, I have an idea,” Kane said.
Sean knew he’d have a plan. He said, “I can cut through my rope, but yours are thicker.”
“I can get out of them.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“It took me a couple hours to think it through. All I need you to do is loosen one
knot that I can’t reach, near my neck. I’ll do the rest.”
* * *
The dairy barn was in the middle of a wide-open field. There was no place to hide, no way to recon without being seen, according to SWAT. The head of the FBI SWAT team out of McAllen, Eddie Jones, said, “Six men patrolling outside, two solo drivers on foot and vehicle. All appear heavily armed. We couldn’t get close enough to use the heat sensors, so we have no idea how many are inside.”
“Are you saying you can’t breach?” Lucy asked.
“I won’t go in blind. We can take out the patrols, but it won’t be silent, and that puts the hostages at risk.”
“Even though it’s still dark?”
A very faint blue had started to rise on the horizon.
“We have maybe fifteen minutes before visibility improves,” Jones said.
“They used drones with cell blockers at Kane’s ranch. Can we get a drone up with a night camera?”
He smiled. “Damn, I think we can. Let me get on it.”
It was just before six in the morning. They were staging in the only area that didn’t have line of sight of the dairy barn. Juarez had picked the location well—there was no easy way to approach. The fields surrounding the barn were fallow. They could possibly have gone in during the cover of night, but by the time they arrived and set up, they didn’t have the time.
“Drone. Smart,” Jack said.
“I only thought of it because one of them was shot down at the ranch. We don’t even know if they’re alive, Jack.”
“They’re alive, until he talks to Hazel. We have time.”
“Not much.”
“We’ll get them. They’re going to be thinking the same things we are.”
“If they’re conscious.”
“Can’t I get a little optimism out of you, sis?”
“I’ll try.” She glanced at her brother. “I think Padre’s angry with me.”
“He’ll get over it. I heard everything. You know what you’re doing.”
No Way Out Page 10
