“For now.”
“We have to find Marisol. Bury her.” Her voice cracked.
“Not tonight.”
She had never been so exhausted. Emotionally, physically. Noah put his arm around her shoulders.
“Lucy,” Noah said.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something. It’s important.”
“Okay.”
“When I told Rick about Carson Spade and what Sean and Kane were doing in Guadalajara, he told me he already knew about the rescue mission, though he didn’t know it connected to our case. He asked RCK to bring Carson Spade back to the States. I guess everyone’s down there.”
Lucy sat up. “What? Everyone who?”
“Your brother. JT Caruso. Someone else, I don’t remember his name. Have you heard anything?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t even thought about Sean or Jesse or the rescue. With everything that had happened tonight, to save her sanity she had blocked it from her mind.
“Rick said he’d keep me in the loop. I saw the file.”
“The file.” Lucy rubbed her eyes. “What file?”
Noah swore under his breath. “Dear God, Lucy, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She was tired, but she realized what Noah was saying. “Jesse.”
“I thought—sorry. Of course you knew.”
“No. I didn’t. I mean, I found out Tuesday by accident.”
Do not cry.
She had no more tears inside. Not tonight.
“I don’t know why he didn’t tell me. I can’t think about it anymore. I just want … I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so tired, Noah. Just … tired.”
“Hey, come here.” He put her head back on his shoulder and she closed her eyes. She felt his arm wrap around her again and she felt safe.
Seconds later she was asleep.
* * *
Lucy’s phone vibrated. She opened her eyes and panicked. Where was she?
She sat up. Her body was sore and her head fuzzy from lack of sleep. Her stomach growled and she didn’t remember the last time she ate. The digital clock glowed red: 7:17. The room was dark, thick curtains pulled over windows.
Hotel. You’re at the hotel.
She’d fallen asleep on the couch and had no idea how she got here. She was wearing only her panties and a tank top—the same top she’d worn under her clothes the day before. Noah—had he taken off her clothes and put her to bed?
A normal girl probably wouldn’t care—there was nothing sexual about their relationship—but Lucy felt her face heat.
But you trust him.
She took a deep breath, let it out. Yes, she trusted Noah. He might be the last person she could trust after everything that had happened this week.
She reached for her phone assuming it was Noah who’d texted her. Instead, it was a message from an unfamiliar number.
We’re refueling in the middle of nowhere. Home this afternoon. I have to turn off this phone, it’s for emergencies only. Everyone is okay. I know you’re worried. I miss you. I love you ~ Sean
Relief flowed through her. Sean was alive. Everyone was safe. Her brother. Kane. The innocent boy.
Sean’s son.
She shut down her emotions. She could be happy they were safe and still hurt and angry that everyone knew Sean had a son except for her.
Well, she knew, but he hadn’t told her.
She didn’t know if she could forgive him. She wanted to, but … what could he say to make it right? Lies of omission were just as bad as outright lies.
You promised me … you promised you would never lie to me.
She had work to do. She got up, took a shower, and felt almost human again. She left the bedroom and saw Nate clean and dressed, sitting on the couch typing on his laptop.
“I got a message from Sean. He’s okay. They all are.”
Nate smiled, and she saw the relief in his posture. He’d also been worried.
“I’m kind of hungry,” she said.
“This place is supposed to have a great free breakfast.”
She sent Noah a message that she and Nate were up and eating breakfast if he wanted to join them. He didn’t respond.
But he still hadn’t returned her message when they were done. They checked out at eight thirty, and went back to the hospital.
Lucy tracked down Dr. Laurel Davidson while Nate went to the lobby to call Noah and Villines and find out what the next step was. The doctor looked as tired as Lucy had felt last night. “I’m just getting off a thirty-six-hour shift,” Davidson said, “but I thought you might want an update, so I hung around.”
“How do you do that? Work thirty-six hours straight?” Lucy asked.
“I get naps here and there. But I’m looking forward to ten hours of lights-out. I’ll be back to check on the infants, though, and I’ll be on call.” She motioned for Lucy and Nate to follow her to an alcove. “Baby Elizabeth is doing great. I have no reason to keep her here, no medical reason, but Agent Armstrong said you’re close to finding her mother?”
Lucy nodded, though it seemed impossible at the moment. Unlikely. “Ana de la Rosa is her family, too.”
“Children’s Services wants to put her in a foster home, but Agent Armstrong was quite emphatic that she wasn’t to leave this hospital for her own safety, so I ordered some more tests just to keep her awhile longer. Baby Lucia is in the neonatal unit.”
Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. It hadn’t really sunk in that the nurses had named her Lucia. Lucy’s given name.
“She was just under five pounds when she came in. I’m guessing based on her development that she was about thirty-six weeks into the pregnancy. She’s perfectly developed, just small, and her lungs are immature. She can breathe on her own, but it’s a struggle, so we’ve put her in an oxygen-rich environment. She’s having a hard time keeping formula down, so we’re feeding her every hour in small quantities.”
The doctor reached out and took her hand. “Are you okay, Agent Kincaid?”
Lucy nodded, out of habit more than anything. “Did I … do something wrong?”
“No. She would have died if you waited to get her mother to a hospital. The toxins from the mother’s body would have made their way into her bloodstream, if the lack of oxygenated blood didn’t kill her first. She’s alive because of you. She’ll be here for at least a week.”
“And then what happens to her?” Lucy asked.
“That’s out of my hands. It’s up to Children’s Services.”
For a moment, just a moment, Lucy wanted to say, I want her. And she did. Desperately. Lucy couldn’t have her own children, but Baby Lucia was as close as she’d come to delivering a child.
But her life was a mess. And dangerous. She was twenty-six and ill prepared to be a mother. She was unmarried, and while she and Sean had talked about adopting … they didn’t lead calm lives. Could they? Could they settle down, move to a mountain in the middle of nowhere, and raise an infant?
And yet … right now, at this moment, Lucy didn’t even know what was going to happen between her and Sean. A baby wouldn’t solve any of their problems. And they had many. Far more than Lucy had thought. For nearly two years, she’d thought their relationship was perfect. Ups and downs but they, together, were a constant. She trusted Sean explicitly with everything, with her heart and her thoughts and her fears.
Trust. It all came down to trust. She couldn’t marry Sean if she didn’t trust him anymore.
And she couldn’t possibly raise a child on her own. Women did it all the time. And maybe, if she were a different woman, she could do it. But Lucy didn’t want to taint a baby with the horrors of the world, and those horrors were a part of her life. For the first time, she considered what Nate had told her months ago, that he never wanted to bring children into the world because the world was a screwed-up place. And Lucy had said it was up to people like them to raise the future leaders to clean it up.
But maybe that w
asn’t in the cards for Lucy. Maybe she was the one who had to clean up the world so her nieces and nephews had a safer place to live.
For the first time, Lucy didn’t see the light of the future. With all the darkness she’d witnessed over the last three days, the light was gone. It was all darkness, all hopelessness, and how could she taint Baby Lucia with that?
Davidson was talking to her, and it took Lucy a few moments to realize she was giving her a status on the women they’d rescued. “I’m sorry, you said something about Ana de la Rosa?”
“She’s on mandatory bed rest. She’s twenty-eight weeks’ pregnant with twins, and her body is weak. Not from lack of nutrition—her blood work is good. But her heart is struggling. She went into premature labor last night, which we stopped. Her leg was shattered and she’s going in for surgery to repair it, but she’ll have a severe limp for the rest of her life. We’re going to try and keep her resting for at least four to six weeks before we schedule a C-section. If she improves, we’ll see if she can carry them longer.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Would you like to see Baby Lucia? You’re on the approved list, you just need to show the head nurse a photo ID.”
“No.”
The doctor looked at her oddly. “I thought—”
“I can’t. Not now.”
“Is something wrong?”
Everything.
“I need to find Baby Elizabeth’s mother. And then … maybe I’ll be back.”
But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t hold that baby and think again about everything she could never have.
She thanked the doctor and went to find Nate.
Nate was waiting for her. He didn’t look happy.
“Noah is negotiating with Zapelli about the whereabouts of Marisol.”
“He can’t let that bastard go, that’s not what you mean, is it?”
“We actually don’t have a choice—the AUSA said the judge is going to toss everything we have. His statement, the search of his luggage, everything. But Zapelli doesn’t know that yet. The judge is angry, but he also understands the situation and postponed the hearing until one this afternoon.”
“Which means what?”
“We have a few hours to pressure Zapelli. Offer a deal to let him go because he doesn’t know we’re going to have to cut him loose anyway.”
“That’s not good enough. He sold her!”
“We can’t prove it.”
“We can if we find Marisol.”
If we find her alive.
* * *
An hour later, Noah met Nate and Lucy at the sheriff’s department.
“I have something.”
“Did you cut him loose?” Lucy asked.
“He will be released after the hearing.” Noah caught her eye, didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. She was personalizing this case, and she had to stop. She had to remember that not all the bad guys could be stopped.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“It sucks, Luce, I know it does, but I think she’s still alive.”
Adam said, “Where is she?”
“We need to go through Dobleman’s phone records. Zapelli said that he delivered Marisol to Lance Dobleman on Tuesday night. They met in a parking garage and moved her from his trunk to Dobleman’s. He overheard Dobleman talking to a man he believes was going to buy Marisol.”
Lucy sat down heavily in the closest chair. Would this nightmare ever end? Marisol had lost two children, had been prostituted, and was now being sold to another man?
“I have the records.” Adam flipped through several folders, pulled out one and handed it to Noah. “That’s it,” Adam said, pointing to something.
“Run it,” Noah said. Then added, “Please.”
Adam waved away the formalities. “The faster the better.” He got on his computer.
Noah sat next to Lucy and put his hand on her forearm. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You good?”
“Yes.”
“You can stay here.”
“No.”
“Lucy—you don’t have to be superwoman all the time.”
She tilted her chin up and looked Noah in the eye. “I know, and I’m not. I’m going to see this through.”
“I think she’s alive, but … we have to expect the worst.”
“I do.” Always.
“Okay.”
“I heard from Sean this morning. They’re on their way back.”
“That’s really good. Rick didn’t have a time line. I assume they have everyone?”
“Yes.” And that was all she could say about that.
“Got it!” Adam scribbled an address on a notepad. “And it’s close by. You want backup?”
“Yes,” Noah said. “As many as you can spare. We don’t know what we’re facing.”
While Adam put together three units to assist, Noah called Quantico for information. “I have an address and a phone number, I need everything you have about the person or persons who live there. Immediately.”
Five minutes later Adam’s team was ready and Noah briefed him as they walked out to the vehicles.
“The house is owned by—guess who?—one of the shell corporations that Carson Spade set up. But the phone is personal. It’s registered to a forty-nine-year-old man named Alastair Holmes. He’s a registered sex offender who went off the grid years ago.”
“Yet he has a phone in his name.”
“Probably a different social, but my people at the FBI think it’s the same Alastair Holmes based on probabilities and location. Holmes is originally from Del Rio, which isn’t far from here. He served three years for forcible rape in Oklahoma City, and then got ten years, served five, for a series of three violent rapes in Baton Rouge. He’s on the registry in Louisiana and Oklahoma, but he never registered in Texas.”
“He got smart,” Lucy said. “Instead of targeting just any woman, he buys them from Dobleman. Women who won’t say anything.”
“You’re probably right.”
“But he’s escalated.”
“What makes you say that?” Adam asked as they climbed into his sheriff’s Bronco.
“Dobleman doesn’t want Marisol to live. Why give her to someone who will only hurt her? He’s going to kill her. I’ll bet it’s not his first murder.” She glanced at Noah. “Do you have his file?”
“Nuts and bolts.”
“You said violent rapes.”
He didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
“Age?”
“College age.”
“How?”
“You don’t need to—”
“How, Noah?”
“He raped them with foreign objects.” He paused. “If you want the details, you can read them, but I’m not going to talk about it here.”
“I’m trying to get into his head, Noah. You know that.”
“He enjoys hurting women.”
“And my guess? He’s now hurting women until they die. And that’s why no victims have come forward, because they’re dead. And he pays Dobleman for the privilege. Or Dobleman pays him to get rid of their problem women, like Marisol.”
It was Thursday morning. Holmes had her for the last thirty-six hours. She could already be dead. How much could she have endured? Giving birth a week ago. Walking twenty miles. And now being raped and tortured by a sick pervert.
“Five years,” Adam mumbled. “Pathetic.”
They didn’t know what they were facing at Holmes’s place. One of Adam’s units did a drive-by and then called in.
“House appears quiet. Drapes pulled, no lights. Street is quiet, houses far apart. Target is a single-story ranch, and my knowledge of this neighborhood is that the homes all have basements.”
Adam thanked him then said, “How do you want to proceed? If the guy is on the registry, we have the right to inspect his property, talk to him about any crimes in the neighborhood.”
“He won’t answer the door, and that puts Mariso
l in danger.” If she isn’t already dead.
Noah was about to speak, but Lucy interrupted. “A female cop needs to go to the door. Not in uniform. Ring the bell. Get access to the house.”
“I’ll have Officer Gorman change,” Adam said. “She’s with one of the units I deployed.”
Lucy shook her head. “I met her last night. She doesn’t fit his profile. She’s close to fifty. I can get him to open the door.”
Noah didn’t say anything.
And Lucy was not going to tell him that she was fine. She was sick and tired of telling people that she was okay.
“Villines?” Noah asked.
“Fine with me.”
“We walk in,” Noah said. “Dunning and me, two of your people. As soon as he opens the door to Lucy, we go in. Do you have a wire?”
“I’ll keep my phone on an open line. If I get a feeling, I’ll let you know.”
“A feeling?” Villines said, his nose wrinkled.
“Instincts,” Lucy said. She almost smiled, but she had no humor inside. “Not a psychic.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Noah said. “You got this, Lucy.”
Lucy took off her blazer and hesitated, then unbuttoned her blouse.
“You don’t—”
She glared at Noah. He stopped talking.
She had on a tank top under her Kevlar vest. She took off the vest. She rarely wore jeans for work, but her black slacks had been stained with blood, and the jeans were all she had with her. She took her hair out of her braid and shook it out, then put it in a loose, sloppy ponytail. She took off her holster and handed her gun to Nate, then checked her ankle holster. No way was she going in without a weapon. Anything could happen. She slipped her badge in her back pocket.
“You look five years younger,” Noah said.
“That was the goal.” She stretched her jaw and smiled, trying to loosen up. She dialed Noah’s phone, he answered, and she put him on speaker then locked her phone so that she couldn’t accidentally hang up on him. “Put yours on mute so he can’t hear anything on your end.”
She got out of the Bronco at the end of the street, out of line of sight of the house. Shook off her nerves. It was hot already and she was sweating, not just from her nerves.
The Lost Girls Page 35
