by Jenifer Ruff
Stephen flung his arms open and broke into song. “You’re a monster, Ms. Greenwood. Your heart's—”
“Enough. I don’t want your stupid songs stuck in my head.” She waved her hand to the side. “And forget about the ransom. It will backfire. I told you, I’ve got it all arranged. It’s good money. He’s taking her tonight from the truck stop. She’s caused enough trouble already.” Allison downed the rest of her drink. “We don’t need to find out how much more.”
“Hey, didn’t the Japanese guy like girls much younger?” Stephen asked.
His phone rang. “It’s Svet.” Frowning, he answered.
Svet hesitated before speaking and Stephen knew something had gone wrong.
“We’ve got problem,” the bodyguard said. He always dropped his articles when he was angry or anxious.
“You know I don’t like problems. Is it a big one I’m going to care about, or a small one you can take care of without involving me? Is it really our problem, or is it your problem?”
“Sofia is . . . gone.”
Stephen hissed through clenched teeth and set his wine glass down before he snapped the stem. Definitely a big problem. Now I have to find out just how big.
Allison crossed her arms. “What happened? Why is he calling?”
Stephen gripped his phone against his ear without answering her. “How did it happen?”
“I shot her.”
A cold tightening sensation spread across Stephen’s chest. He slowly inhaled, needing all the patience he could muster. He enunciated each word slowly. “Why did you shoot her, Svet?”
“She escaped from house. Out bathroom window.”
“The house! A bathroom!” Correcting Svet’s grammar gave him time to process the news. He could hardly believe Sofia had attempted to escape. He’d been too lenient with the girls lately. He hadn’t done enough to keep them scared. Svet should have murdered Sasha in front of them, not somewhere off in Virginia. He had believed the girls were sufficiently brainwashed. He hated finding out he was wrong. Now, with his nails digging into his palms, he needed to listen to the consequences; find out the full story.
“She had a big head start. I didn’t want her to get away, or run to someone’s house, so I shot her.”
“You shot Sofia in front of McCullen’s house?”
Allison stood, staring intently at Stephen and gripping the edge of the counter.
“Not in front. Down the street.”
“And what did you do with her body?” Stephen could feel an artery twitching in his forehead. An irritating sensation made worse, so much worse, by Svet’s responses.
“Um—”
“Um? Did you just say um, Svet!” Stephen jumped out of his seat and paced, shaking his hand in the air. “Where the hell is she right now? And this better be a damn good answer.”
“People with dogs ran over to her. More came out of homes. I couldn’t kill them all, yeah? I took Anastasia and disappeared a different way before police came.”
“Do you know for sure that she’s dead? She better be dead.” Stephen rested his forehead against his hand. “That girl better be deader than a doornail.”
On the other end of the line, the big man swallowed loudly.
“You don’t know! Where are you now?”
“I’m with Damian and the motel girls. And Anastasia. Didn’t want to bring her back to Allison’s house in case . . . in case . . .”
At least he was thinking. “Stay there,” Stephen ordered. “I’m coming.”
“This is bad,” Allison said. “We need to get everyone out of Charlotte. Except Emma. Petar needs to bring Emma to meet Yusaku.”
“Can’t you do it?” Stephen sneered.
“No. I’m staying here. I already have the police and FBI poking around in my business. I’m not going anywhere near those girls!”
Stephen rushed out through the back exit, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A persistent jostling sensation forced Sofia awake. She was on her back, moving.
In the van again?
A wailing siren filled her ears.
She struggled to force her eyes open, squinting to focus on the strangers shrouded in bright light. Snatches of orders and instructions volleyed through the air around her.
“En route . . . young female, gunshot wound . . . lost consciousness . . .”
Punches of tension-filled voices and words faded in and out.
“Blood loss . . . pulse tachy . . . morphine administered . . .”
She couldn’t feel her body. She’d been drugged, her brain rendered thick and foggy like the helpless motel girls.
“"IV fluids, normal saline, wide open. . . ETA less than five minutes.”
There’s something I have to do. Something urgent. What is it?
Blinking, she tried to understand what was happening around her. And there was something else, something important spiraling away from her in a jumble of racing thoughts.
“. . . inserting another line . . .”
The tip line!
She tried to recall it, but the numbers floated just outside her grasp. She prayed Anastasia remembered them. “Anastasia?” she whispered. “Anastasia?” She wasn’t sure if she was saying her friend’s name aloud, or simply dreaming that she was. In any case, Anastasia didn’t answer. Where is she? Sofia tried to sit up, but didn’t have the strength.
I’ll disappear just like Sasha. Poor Anastasia will get my tongue.
Images of Sofia’s family floated by. An overwhelming sadness descended. I’ll never see them again. They’ll never know what happened. Never even know I missed them.
Gray clouds nudged her frantic thoughts away, making room for the darkness of nothing, until she was pulled back from consciousness.
♦ ♦ ♦
The nurse assistant was tired, but she couldn’t wait to share the interesting news with one of her friends on the next shift. That was the beauty of pulling a double, you had the full scoop from the last eight hours.
She refueled with black coffee as her friend clocked in. “Here’s the big excitement you missed. Young female, GSW.”
“Another? Where was this one shot?”
The assistant followed her friend into the locker room. “Back of her shoulder. Dr. Chaudhry said a millimeter to the side and she’d be dead.”
“I meant, where was she?”
“That’s what makes it real interesting. Ready for this? She was in the Myers Park neighborhood. The ritzy part. One of the streets right off the main street with the multi-million-dollar houses and those gigantic trees. Outside. Right on the sidewalk.”
“Seriously?” The aide grabbed a set of scrubs from the top of a pile and unfolded them.
“Yep.”
“That’s not business as usual out there,” her friend said, opening a locker. “Did they catch who did it?”
“Nope. Cops went door to door asking people. No one saw the shooter. And—get this— no one knew who the girl was or what she was doing there.”
“Ha! They said they didn’t anyway.” The nurse assistant began to undress. “Can’t trust rich people. They’re the best liars. They’re not worried because they always get away with it. That’s what makes them lie so good.”
“The girl—she was rich all right. Just a teenager, but really beautiful, something special. She came in wearing a fancy dress, her hair all done up like she was going to prom, but there’s no proms going on tonight. And she was wearing lots of jewelry. A few of the things were fake, but most of it—very, very real.”
“How would you know what was real?” She pulled her top down over her abdomen.
“One of the doctors said so.”
“And you said the girl had no identification?”
“Nope. And she was alone. But I think they’ll figure out who she is. Might be in a gang.”
“A gang? She don’t sound like a gang member to me.”
“I know. But . . .I was getting to this—
she has a brand on the back of her neck. Dr. Chaudhry took a picture and sent it to the FBI. They have a database with marks and tattoos to help identify gangs and things like that. If it’s in there . . .the FBI will know who she is, maybe, and can figure out what happened.”
The nurse’s aide tucked the last item of her clothing inside the locker and slammed it shut. “Sounds like that girl’s gonna have an interesting story.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Rivera pulled into the motel parking lot for his second appointment. He’d failed to return to sleep after the fire alarm had kept the hotel guests outside for an hour, but the lack of sleep hardly mattered. He was fully alert from adrenaline.
Moonlight illuminated the seedy motel making it look like the setting in a horror movie. Something was different. The No Vacancy sign was unlit and there were only two other cars in the lot behind the motel. One was Victoria’s rental. She’d left the hotel wearing a Georgetown sweatshirt and jeans, looking beautiful in spite of her efforts to downplay her looks.
His phone buzzed with a new message and he checked the screen. Dr. Rebecca Boswell’s message asked him to call her. He might have thought it had something to do with the double date Victoria mentioned, except it was marked priority. He tightened his bullet- proof vest. It was time to get out of his car and head up to the motel room.
I’ll call Rebecca as soon as this is all over.
His dream from last night was a little embarrassing. Thank God he didn’t talk in his sleep, as far as he knew. A romantic relationship with Victoria was off limits right now. One—they were colleagues, and two—she was with her dogwalker guy. But a persistent voice wouldn’t stop reminding him—she asked for you to come out here. Anyone could have done this—any guy—but she asked for you. Sure—she trusts you. But is that the only reason?
The wind picked up and whipped the tree tops around. A piece of trash swirled past his feet.
Agent Rivera walked calmly to the designated room. He slid his key fob into his pocket and pulled on the rim of his cap. This time, Emma or not, they were taking the girls with them.
He knocked.
He looked around, gripping his wrist. Please don’t let them be gone.
“Answer the door,” he growled, pounding on it. “I don’t want anyone to see me out here.”
He leaned in, listening for anything to indicate there was someone inside. Hearing nothing, he moved on to the next room, and then the next, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. Did I tip them off somehow? Where the hell are they?
The door opened in one of the rooms Rivera had been in the previous night. A middle-aged woman backed out pulling a supply cart with one hand and pushing the door open with the other. Strange she was cleaning the rooms at night. Had something happened inside this one? Rivera took hold of the door and held it open.
“Gracias,” the woman responded without making eye contact.
As the cart moved past him, he scanned the rumpled sheets and towels for signs of blood. He saw only white. He peered inside. The room was tidy and empty.
Keeping her head down and giving no further acknowledgement of Rivera’s presence, the woman slid a key into the next door.
“Here, let me get that for you.” Again, he held the door open while the housekeeper pushed her cart inside. He followed her in. The door closed behind him with a clink of the metal latch.
The woman’s eyes shot to the closed door. She gripped the handles of her cart.
Rivera felt guilty for causing her fear. He showed his badge. “You’re not in any trouble, I promise. I’m looking for a missing girl.”
The woman stared down at her shoes. Rivera could see uncertainty eating her up inside.
“Can you take a look and let me know if you’ve seen this girl around?”
“Disculpa. No hablo Ingles.” Again, her eyes moved toward the door and back.
He tapped his phone until Emma’s picture appeared. “She’s missing. Have you seen her around here?” Rivera repeated the question in Spanish. “Elle estά desaparecida. La han visto por aqui?”
The housekeeper glanced at his phone and shook her head.
“Thank you for your help. Her family is very worried. Gracias por su ayuda. Su familia esta muy preocupada.”
His disappointment weighed heavy as he left the room. It was impossible to know if the woman was simply fearful for herself and her own situation, whatever that may be, or if she knew anything about Emma but was afraid to disclose it.
A sedan beeped as a man locked it and headed toward the motel. He was middle-aged, wearing jeans and a jacket. Didn’t look like he hit the gym much. Average looking in all respects.
Out of desperation, Rivera tried a different tactic. “Hey, um, excuse me. Can I ask you something?”
The man stopped walking. He studied Rivera and quickly looked around. “What?” He pressed a hand against his side. Either he was carrying a weapon or protecting something like a wallet in his coat pocket. Rivera sensed it was the latter.
Rivera moved closer. “I’m here looking for a fresh piece of ass—this is what she looks like.” He held his phone where the man could see Emma’s picture, the one in the school girl uniform. “I was with her a few days ago and I really want to be with her again. Do you know if she’s here?”
As realization clouded the man’s features, he shook his head. “Look, buddy, I’m just here for the football games. I don’t know anything about a girl.” He resumed walking, glancing back at Rivera with disgust.
Rivera believed him.
Sick about the missing girls and the way he’d just represented himself, he sent Victoria a message.
They’re not here.
Victoria responded almost immediately.
Just talked to Rebecca. We have a new lead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sofia’s eyes fluttered open. She was laying on her back.
White ceiling. White walls. Machines with blinking lights. Strange contraptions with colored wires.
Where am I?
“Oh. Hello, there. You’re awake.” A woman hovered above, staring into her face, wearing a green top and pants—hospital clothes. “Let me get the doctor.”
Sofia shivered even though beads of sweat coated her brow. She’d heard Stephen address men as doctor, right before they forced her to do disgusting things. Once a client wanted to “play doctor.” Svet had to approve of the creep’s toys first, which he did. Doctors couldn’t be trusted any more than other men. Wait, don‘t go, she tried to say. Her words came out as a whimper of gibberish that made no sense at all.
The woman left. Sofia fought to stay alert, but drifted back to sleep.
“Hi. I’m Doctor Chaudhry. I heard you were awake.”
Sofia forced her eyes open, relieved to hear the doctor was a woman.
Dr. Chaudhry had shiny, black hair and big brown eyes. Her teeth were very white against her dark skin.
Sofia tried to pull the sheet up to her neck but had to stop short. There wasn’t pain, exactly, but she could barely move her arm. Being compromised left her feeling exceptionally vulnerable. An image flashed through her mind— Emma, passed out and helpless on Ms. Bois’s guest room bed.
“Careful now.” Dr. Chaudhry held up her hand. “You’re waking up from surgery.”
“W—what happened?” Sofia sputtered like Petar and her throat ached when she spoke.
“A bullet entered through your shoulder and damaged your axillary artery.” The doctor stood at the end of the bed, studying the chart in her hands. “We repaired your artery, cleaned up the surrounding tissue, and put you back together.”
Sofia remembered the pain exploding across her shoulder, the mental agony of falling, the anguish of being unable to run another step. She pressed her dry lips together, relieved to be alive but afraid of what would happen next.
“You’re going to be fine. There will be considerable soreness for a few days, and you’ll need physical therapy to get your arm functioning at one hundred per
cent, but you’ll be good as new in a few months.” The doctor moved to Sofia’s side. “How do you feel? Do you want something to help you with the pain?”
Do I have a choice? Sofia licked her lips and wished she had a glass of water. “I don’t want any drugs, if that’s what you’re asking.” The last thing she wanted was to end up like the motel girls who had no idea what was going on around them.
“Okay, then. You’re quite a trooper. Usually I hear just the opposite.” Dr. Chaudhry smiled. “I’m going to do a quick examination, now that you’re awake.”
The doctor turned on a pen light. “Follow my finger.” She moved her finger slowly to one side and Sofia did as she was told
“Good. Now this side.”
Again, Sofia followed her finger until the light went out. She used the time to try and think through her options. Does she know who I am? Does she know who I ran away from?
“I’m going to help you sit up now, not all the way, just enough so I can check your bandage, make sure there’s no bleeding.”
Dr. Chaudhry placed her hand on the back of Sofia’s neck and lifted her forward, just barely.
“Everything looks as it should.” The doctor stepped back. “Now that I’m sure you’re on your way to healing nicely, there are some people here who want to speak to you. Do you feel up to it?”
Stephen? Ms. Bois? Sofia’s heart beat faster. She struggled to sit up against a wave of dizziness.
“Whoa. Not so fast. It’s all right.”
It’s not all right until I know who’s here. She kept her eyes on the doorway, afraid of who might be out there waiting. “Who are they?”
“Well, your first visitors were police detectives. But they’ve been replaced by FBI agents. They have to figure out what happened to you. They’re here to help.”
Help who, exactly? That was the important question. It was unlikely they wanted to help her, and she wasn’t about to be tricked again. She needed to speak to the people looking for Emma. They might be willing to make a deal with her in exchange for information. She needed a phone and she needed to remember the number. She dug her fingernails into her palms and lifted her chin as tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to fall.
