Deliver Us from Evil

by Robin Caroll

  “I need to get something out of my pocket. Be still.” She reached for the item she had hidden away. A pocketknife one of the men had dropped. Her nail sought the groove to open the blade. It opened with a quiet click.

  She licked her lips with a dry tongue and reached for Kanya’s hair. Her beautiful tresses were almost as long as Mai’s. But they had no time to try to untangle it. Not in the dark. And not with the possibility of Fred already tracking them.

  Run, run, get away.

  Run, run, must escape.

  Mai took a deep breath, then sawed through her friend’s hair until Kanya was free. Closing the blade, she shoved it back into her pocket and lifted her pillowcase. “Come on, time to go.”

  Kanya ran a hand over her head. “My hair!”

  “Shh. It will grow back. It is more important that we get away, right? Now, come on.”

  Kanya lifted her pillowcase and took Mai’s hand but sniffled under her breath. Mai did not care—she, too, was tired, scared, and cold, but they could not stop. Not yet.

  Run, run, get away.

  Run, run, must escape.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Wednesday, 6:10 p.m.

  Howard Baker Federal Courthouse

  Knoxville, Tennessee

  ROARK’S CELL PHONE TWEEDLED. He flipped it open and stuck it against his ear.

  “Hey, Holland.”

  His retired partner’s voice soothed his agitation. “Hey, yourself. What’s up?” Roark ducked into an unused conference room.

  “You asked me to run my own check on someone named Zimp? And to quietly look into Congressman Warren McGovern?”

  Roark’s chest tightened. “Yeah. Got anything?”

  “I do. Funny thing, there’s a connection between the two men.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My check on Zimp reflects a couple of interesting things.”

  “Such as?” Roark gritted his teeth but knew he couldn’t rush his friend.

  “That cell phone, Zimp’s?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Guess who paid for it?”

  “McGovern?”

  “Yep. Have a transaction receipt. Well, a copy of it anyway.”

  Here was proof McGovern wasn’t as lily-white as he proclaimed. Roark studied the darkened room. “What else?”

  “That’s it, for now.”

  Would it be enough? Roark thanked his friend and shut the phone. He needed to tell Demott and Daly what he’d found. He headed back toward the conference room where they continued to question Jefferson Montgomery. He opened the door, prepared to call Demott out, only to have his boss glare at him and hold up a finger. The message was clear—wait.

  Wednesday, 6:19 p.m.

  Howard Baker Federal Courthouse

  Knoxville, Tennessee

  “SHEESH, HOW MUCH LONGER do you think they’ll be? I’m hungry.” Brannon stopped pacing and plopped onto the chair beside Lincoln. Her ankle didn’t bother her at all. “We’ve been here for hours. What do you think they have to talk to Jefferson so long about?”

  “Hon, patience is a virtue.”

  She huffed and slumped back in the chair. “Of which I’m sorely lacking.”

  Lincoln chuckled. “I don’t know what’s taking so long. Maybe Jefferson’s helping them, giving them a lead.”

  “I hope so. It rips my heart up to think about those poor children.”

  “I know.” Lincoln patted her knee and glanced around. “Why don’t you look for a vending machine? There’s gotta be one around here someplace.”

  She stood and dug in her pocket for quarters. “Want anything?”

  “Potato chips would be nice.”

  “Gotcha.” Brannon made her way down the hall toward the elevators. Now where would the vending machines be hiding? Hmm. Probably near the restrooms. Water fountains and vending machines seemed to lurk near the bathrooms.

  She rounded the corner and spied the alcove housing the machines. Brannon smiled as she slipped into the darkened space and studied the offerings. What was she in the mood to snack on? Sweet or salty? Better yet, which would take longer to eat?

  A cell phone’s buzz tightened Brannon’s fist around the coins.

  “Yes?” A man’s abrupt voice split the quiet of the alcove.

  Brannon peeked around the corner. That arrogant congressman stood near the wall, cell phone pressed against his ear. She certainly didn’t want to run into him. Jerking back into the shadows, she shoved her spine against the edge of the soda machine.

  “What do you mean two are missing?” His tone left no mistake that he wasn’t happy. “Where is Nancy?”

  Brannon held her breath and inched farther into the alcove’s recesses.

  “Why is she with you? Who’s watching the place?” He paced up and down the hallway, his steps heavy. “And Fred has no clue how long they’ve been gone?”

  Although she could only hear half of the conversation, Brannon paid close attention. She didn’t know why, but everything in her told her to be on alert.

  “Look, send Nancy back. Call Betty and have her go out with Fred. They need to find them. Now.” His voice shook with anger. “Call me as soon as they’ve found them.”

  Brannon swallowed a gasp. What all did it mean?

  The snap of the phone shutting echoed off the wall, followed by the congressman cussing under his breath.

  She needed to get out of here, get to Roark, and tell him what she’d heard, but she dared not reveal herself now.

  The congressman continued to rant under his breath in the hall. His curses grew louder—he was coming closer. Brannon sucked in air and willed her heart to stop pounding. She shoved herself as far into the corner as she could. If he caught her hiding, he’d know she overheard his conversation. What would he do to her?

  God, please don’t let him see me.

  His cell phone rang again.

  “Yes?” Amazing how calm he sounded just seconds after cussing a blue streak. “When?” A short pause felt like an eternity to Brannon. “Fine. I’m on my way.” He spun and strode down the hall toward the elevators.

  Brannon let out the pent-up breath of air with a whoosh. Thank You, Father.

  Only problem was, she didn’t know where the congressman headed. What if he waited just around the corner? Would he suspect she’d eavesdropped?

  She let a good two minutes pass before peeking out of the alcove. No sign of him. She inched into the corridor to the corner and peered around. No congressman in sight.

  Letting out another sigh, Brannon hustled back to the hallway where Lincoln sat waiting. He glanced up as she rushed toward him. “Did ya get lost? Hey, where are my chips?”

  “Shh. Listen to what I heard.” She dropped into the chair beside him and repeated the congressman’s conversation.

  “You need to tell Roark.” Lincoln stood.

  Brannon joined him on her feet. “I know, but I can’t barge in there.”

  “Text him. Tell him you need to speak to him.”

  “Good idea.” She reached for her cell, only to remember security hadn’t allowed her to bring it into the courthouse. How did the congressman have his? “I don’t have my cell, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Lincoln stared at the closed door. “I guess we don’t have any other option but to wait until they come out.”

  Great. Back to waiting. Brannon gnawed on her cuticle as she paced the hall.

  What did the congressman have to do with all this? He sat on the council or whatever that was supposed to help expose child traffickers and help the children. How was it all connected?

  Wednesday, 6:20 p.m.

  Northwest of Little River Road

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  SUCCESS! THE FIRE CRACKLED and pop
ped to life.

  Mai smiled against the heat tickling her chilled face and glanced at Kanya. “I told you I could build a fire.”

  Her friend huddled closer to the growing flames. “I am so cold.”

  “You will not be for long.” Mai dug in her pillowcase and pulled out a piece of beef jerky. She broke it in two, then handed half to Kanya. “Here, we have to keep up our strength.” She bit into the bitter stick, grinding her teeth as she chewed.

  Kanya ate in silence, her gaze locked on to the fire.

  A growl sounded in the distance.

  “What was that?”

  Mai struggled to appear unconcerned. “Some animal settling in for the night is all. They will not come near the fire.” At least, that was what she had heard the men say when they would tell their stories. She hoped they were right.

  “I am thirsty.”

  Biting back a sigh, Mai pulled a can of diet soda from her case and popped open the top. “Here, but do not drink too much. We need to save as much as we can.”

  Kanya took a long draw off the can.

  Mai snatched back the soda. “We have to keep enough to last us.” She took a tentative sip and grimaced as the rank flavor hit her taste buds. How did Madam Nancy drink this too-sweet stuff so much? Nasty, that was what it was. She set the can at her feet, out of Kanya’s reach.

  A rumble filled the air, closer than the growl had been.

  Kanya jumped almost into Mai’s lap. “It is coming for us.”

  “No, it is not.” At least, Mai hoped not. But in case it was, she needed to find a weapon of sorts. The knife was a backup—she had no desire to get that close to any wild animal.

  A long stick lay just on the edge of the clearing they had found to build their fire. Mai grabbed it and shoved just the end in the flames. If anything, either animal or man, came at them, she would jab it in the eye.

  No way would she not be free. Not after everything she had suffered.

  “Do you think they know we are gone?”

  Mai considered lying to her friend, then realized she could not. If Fred came after them, both would have to be on the lookout. “I am sure by now they know.”

  “What do you think they are going to do?”

  “Look for us, I guess.”

  Kanya’s eyes overflowed with fear. “They will not find us, will they?”

  Mai shook her head. “We will rest here for a few more minutes, get warmed up, then head out again.”

  “But they will keep coming after us.”

  “They do not know which direction we went.”

  The growl came again, followed by the snapping of branches and underlying bushes.

  Both girls jumped. Mai rested her hand against the stick. Her heart leapt into her throat, burning.

  “What is that?” Kanya whispered.

  “I do not know.”

  “Are you sure it will not come by the fire?”

  Mai tightened her grip on the stick. “Animals are scared of fire.”

  She really, really hoped that was true.

  Wednesday, 6:30 p.m.

  US Marshals Office, Howard Baker Federal Courthouse

  Knoxville, Tennessee

  THEY’D BEEN AT IT for almost another hour. Roark didn’t know how much longer he could stand the FBI drilling poor Jefferson Montgomery. They’d asked him the same questions in a million different ways already, and not once had he deviated from his statement. Not even by a sentence.

  And Roark needed to let Demott know about the connection between Zimp and McGovern.

  The poor ranger’s eyes drooped at the corners—all the dim lighting used for interrogation purposes. His shoulders sagged—worn down by the relentless questions.

  Roark pushed off the wall. “Hey, guys, why don’t we take a break? I sure could use a cup of coffee, and I’m guessing Mr. Montgomery could as well.”

  Demott stepped into the center of the room. “I think that’s a great idea. Give us time to refocus.” But he shot Roark a look that stated they’d discuss Roark’s interference later.

  Jefferson sighed. “Thanks, I could use a break.”

  Roark grabbed his boss and informed him of what his friend had uncovered.

  Demott pulled Daly to their little circle and had Roark repeat what he’d heard. “Is it enough to get a warrant to search McGovern’s place?”

  The SAC shook his head. “On hearsay? No judge will grant a warrant on a congressman without some tangible proof.” He stared at Roark. “Can you get your friend to fax you a copy of that receipt? That’d be enough, I think.”

  “I’ll get it.” Roark lifted his phone, texted what he needed, and gave the fax number. “I’ll go wait by my fax.” He swung open the door. Brannon was on her feet in a second, her eyes flashing with excitement.

  “Listen, I have something important I need to tell you.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall.

  Electric current shot up his arm into his chest as he followed her and Lincoln.

  Her words tumbled over one another as she repeated a conversation she’d overheard Congressman McGovern having on a cell phone. The implications of what she said jabbed adrenaline into Roark’s every muscle.

  “I’m not sure what it means, but considering what I just learned about McGovern, I know he’s connected.”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  “He named a Fred and Betty?”

  “And a Nancy.”

  Anticipation thrummed against his mind. The congressman linked to the child-trafficking ring—the proof was just out of reach.

  “Holland, thought you were going to wait by the fax.”

  Roark turned at his boss’s voice. “Am about to.”

  Demott stood in a cluster with the two agents conducting Jefferson’s interview, as well as two other men in navy suits. Demott motioned him to join them. Roark squeezed Brannon’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

  He crossed the corridor, ready to take the chewing out for interfering. “Look, I have—”

  Daly narrowed his eyes. “We’ve just received word from one of our agents that we’ve gotten the warrant to search Mrs. Wilks’s personal safety deposit box. Agents are en route to the bank.”

  Demott shot Roark a questioning look. “Has the fax arrived?”

  “I’ll check in just a minute.” He nodded at his boss. “Brannon overheard Congressman McGovern on a phone conversation, during which he mentioned some names. And specifically talked about the girls.”

  Demott clamped Roark’s shoulder.

  “Is she positive?” Daly wore a skeptical expression as he stared down the hall at Brannon.

  “Yes.”

  “Can she be trusted?”

  Roark ground his teeth. “Yes.”

  “We need to talk to her ourselves. You go get the fax.” The SAC made strides toward Brannon. “Ms. Callahan?”

  As they approached, a man turned the corner, almost running smack into Brannon and Lincoln.

  Congressman McGovern straightened his tie and frowned at Brannon. “What are you doing here?”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Wednesday, 6:40 p.m.

  US Marshals Office, Howard Baker Federal Courthouse

  Knoxville, Tennessee

  IT SEEMED EVERYONE WAS in the loop. Except him. Warren frowned. “I asked what you’re doing here, Ms. Callahan.”

  Her face went pale. That Marshal Holland stepped in front of her. A definite protective move. Why?

  Holland crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s here to sign her statement and answer a few questions.”

  “About the rescue?” Hadn’t she already been debriefed? What additional information could she have?

  “The FBI has a couple of questions for her.”

  As
if on cue, two agents appeared at his side. “Ms. Callahan, if you’ll follow us. We need to go over a few aspects of your statement.” They whisked her toward a conference room, leaving Warren staring after her.

  “What are you doing here, Congressman?”

  He focused his attention on the marshal. “I understand the witness’s stepson has been located.”

  “And you heard this where?”

  The nerve of this man to question him. Warren struggled not to show his annoyance. “Justice keeps me well informed on this investigation, Roark. I do head up the Coalition Against Child Trafficking, which gives me a vested interest in the case.”

  Roark’s brows shot up. “Really? Then you know the FBI is still questioning the potential witness.”

  This marshal dared to toy with him? Warren cleared his throat. “Yes, but they’re questioning him here, in the marshals’ office.” He narrowed his eyes. “Surely you have some information regarding how the interrogation is coming along.”

  “I only know what they tell me.”

  The urge to smack the arrogant marshal’s face tensed Warren’s hands into tight fists. “But I understand you’ve been in the interrogation room throughout the questioning.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss anything, Congressman. I’m sure you understand my hands are tied.”

  “I see.” And he did. They’d gotten some sort of lead from the witness and wanted to protect the information. But what did they know? “Well, I’ll go see the director of the FBI and see what information he can share.”

  “You do that, sir.” Roark nodded and moved toward Ms. Callahan’s partner.

  Wait a minute—they needed to ask her questions regarding her statement, but not her partner? Or were they going to question them separately? Something didn’t feel right about the situation. And Warren didn’t like being uncomfortable.

  He spun on his heel and strode down the hall, pulling out his cell phone. He punched in the speed-dial number for his aide and didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Kevin, get back in touch with your source in the FBI. Find out what Wilks’s stepson has told them and if it’s a legitimate lead. Then find out what those rangers, Callahan and Vailes, are doing with the FBI.”