“I can’t! If he gets here before you do, he’ll kill the girls.”
Hunter disconnected and drove through the broken gate. Eric drove around the house and knocked over the satellite dish then backed up and turned the truck facing the road out. Hunter looped around the trampoline and parked next to Eric, ready to drive out. Both kept their trucks running.
“He’s pissing mad!” yelled Eric.
“Do you have a gun?” asked Hunter.
“No. Do you?”
“Jazz has a pistol. Eric, do the girls have any clothes?”
Eric shook his head. “He keeps them naked all the time. He thinks they’ll be less likely to bolt if they have the chance.”
Hunter grabbed Claire’s suitcase out of his truck bed as Claire and Jazz exited the truck. “Claire, the girls are thin and have no clothes. Find something in your suitcase for them.”
He carried the bag to the porch and set it down. Claire knelt and unzipped the bag. Eric opened the door, and they walked in.
“Destiny?” Eric yelled. “Danielle? We’re getting you out of here.”
Jazz went to the cage door while Eric searched for the key. The girls held each other and backed away warily.
“My name is Jazz. I’m your age. We want to take you to my house where you’ll be safe. My mom’s outside getting you some clothes. We have to hurry because Wesley will be here in a few minutes.”
Danielle walked to the cage door. She was taller than the last time Hunter had seen her. Her ribs and hipbones pushed hard from beneath her skin. Destiny stood behind, her stomach caving into her backbone.
Eric stared. “He stopped feeding them. They weren’t this skinny two weeks ago.” He unlocked the door.
“We need to hurry,” said Hunter.
Claire came in with an armful of clothes. She saw the girls and stopped in her tracks. “Jesus God.” After a couple of seconds, she moved toward the girls. “Eric, you and Hunter get outside. They don’t need any more guys gawking at them.” The boys moved toward the door.
“Help me, Jazz,” said Claire.
After they closed the front door, Eric said, “I swear, Hunter, they weren’t that skinny when I was here.”
“They don’t look like kids anymore. He’s starving them. No bullet holes or cuts to show they were killed.” Hunter looked at Eric who stared at the ground. “Did you know that’s how he’d do it?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I said no.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Eric looked up the road leading to the house. “Shit! He’s coming! There’s a dust cloud over there.” He ran to the door. “Now! Get in the trucks!”
They both heard a helicopter.
“That’s Stanley,” yelled Hunter, his heart racing.
The girls ran outside in baggy leggings and loose stretch tops.
“Hurry!” yelled Eric. He opened the back door of his truck. “Put them in here.”
Jazz and Claire ran to the other truck. Hunter hopped into the driver’s seat and switched the gear into Drive. Eric took off in front of him, then braked suddenly. Hunter hit his brake hard but still slid into Eric’s back bumper.
They all heard the shotgun blast. Claire screamed.
Hunter tried to back up and ran into the trampoline.
Wesley walked in front of Hunter’s truck pointing a shotgun at him. “Get out of the truck! Hands up! Now!”
Every nerve tingled as Hunter opened his door. “Jazz, take your pack.”
“Got it. C’mon, Mom. Get out.” Jazz opened her door and raised her hands.
Claire opened her door and stepped out to the ground, shuddering in fear.
Wesley shot at Eric’s door. They all jumped at the sound. “Girls, get back in the cage!”
Hunter saw Eric’s bloody face and the shattered windshield in front of him. The far passenger door of Eric’s truck opened, and the girls ran into the house.
Wesley moved closer to Hunter. “You were the boy in the store. I knew there was something fishy about you. Just too desperate to leave.”
The sound of the helicopter grew louder then circled above the house.
“Put down your weapon and lie down on the ground,” came from above.
“Fuck you!” Wesley aimed at the helicopter and fired. The helicopter rose higher then circled.
“Get inside the house!” Wesley barked. “Now! Move! Move!”
Hunter and Claire ran over to Jazz, keeping their hands high.
“Be ready with your gun, Jazzy,” whispered Claire through her teeth.
“Mom?” She stopped and looked at Claire.
“Don’t stop, Jazz. Turn around. You’ll know what to do.”
Claire hung slightly behind them as Hunter and Jazz walked up the steps to the porch. Hunter saw Jazz unzip her pack and reach inside.
Claire stumbled on the last step. “Shit! My ankle!”
Wesley came up behind and shoved her in the back with the side of the gun. “Move it, lady!”
Claire dived from the porch into Wesley, knocking him backward. “Now, Jazzy!”
Claire and Wesley both grunted when they hit the ground.
Jazz pulled out her gun and leaped down the steps.
Using one arm to try to push Claire off him, Wesley lifted his shotgun with the other arm to fire at Jazz.
“No!” Claire dived on his arm as he pulled the trigger, sending the pellets under the house.
Jazz held her pistol in front of Wesley’s face and fired. His body jerked and blood poured from his mouth.
Panting, Jazz glared at Wesley and cocked the gun again. “Mom, you OK?”
“Yeah. Just some bruises. Is he dead?”
Jazz pushed his head with her boot. “Yeah.”
Danielle and Destiny screamed as they launched themselves from the porch onto Wesley’s body. They kicked him, jumped onto his chest and stomach, all the time screeching and wailing. Their faces twisted into animal snarls, baring their teeth, as they pummeled his chest and stomach.
Claire put her arm around each girl and moved them away from the house. “Girls. He’s dead.” She pulled them closer to her. “You’ll never have to see him again.” They collapsed against her chest crying. Claire rubbed their backs and looked back at Jazz and nodded.
“Thanks, Mom,” said Jazz. She knelt by Wesley’s arm and pried his fingers from the trigger of the shotgun.
Hunter ran down the steps and pushed Wesley’s body over, removing the pistol from his belt. He raced to Eric’s truck and opened the front passenger door to find Eric slumped toward Hunter with several holes in his neck.
Hunter wiped tears from his face. Eric came because he felt sorry for what he’d done but only because Hunter had goaded him. He expected to be exposed and put in jail. Maybe he worried this might happen as well. Hunter pulled out his phone to call Stanley. “Wesley’s dead. So is my friend. The rest of us are OK.”
Hunter saw the chopper return.
“We’ve got no place to land,” said Stanley. “I’ve called an ambulance, and a trooper is almost here. Can you move the truck blocking the gate?”
Hunter took a few steps toward Wesley’s truck and heard the engine running. “Yeah.”
Hunter climbed into Wesley’s truck and drove it toward the house. He found Jazz, Claire, and the girls on the porch, hugging each other.
Hunter tried to steady his nerves. “The trooper is on his way. Stanley’s meeting us at the intersection.”
Danielle raised her teary face and looked at Hunter. “Where are we going?”
“To a new home,” said Hunter.
“To my house, girls,” said Claire. “Jazz and I will take good care of you.”
“Jazz,” said Hunter, “let’s check his fridge for food and water.”
They walked inside the house. “Your mother saved our necks.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out food and juice. “Think I know where you got your badass ge
ne.”
“I know. That was brave as hell. She said she owed me. Do you want to tell me what for?”
“I don’t think for anything specific. Just all the time she brought assholes home.” Hunter stood up and put the items in a box, avoiding her eyes.
“You won’t tell me, will you?”
“Nope.”
“Are she and I even yet?”
“She’ll never be even with you, but she’s doing her best, so give her credit.”
“Eric’s dead?”
“Yeah. He was trying to get even, too.”
“Do you think he did?”
“Whether he did or didn’t, he wanted to try. Maybe he was afraid of people knowing what he did to the girls, but he was more afraid of living with the truth that he’d done nothing to save them. He knew Wesley would starve the girls to death then drop their bodies somewhere.”
“I’m glad I shot Wesley. I don’t feel any remorse at all.”
Hunter remembered watching the twelve-year-old Jazz crying as her mother left the burning trailer and a dead Micah behind. But not the pain or the guilt or the shame. Those followed her, attacking her arms and shoulders and legs.
“Good,” said Hunter. He closed the refrigerator. “Maybe we can leave this place with no scars as souvenirs. Let’s get the girls home.”
They left the house and handed the girls water and juice. They opened the bottles quickly and drank. “Go slow, girls.”
A trooper vehicle passed through the gate. A woman emerged and walked toward them. “Are you Hunter?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Detective Collins filled me in. You all were very brave. How are the girls?” She walked over to Danielle and Destiny who clutched Claire in between them.
“Better than they were,” said Claire.
“My name is Helen. Some medics will meet us by the bridge to make sure you’re both OK.” The girls buried their faces into Claire’s chest. “Do you know them?” she asked Claire.
“We just met. I want to take care of them. They’ve got no one else.”
Helen smiled. “They seem to like you.” Helen walked a few steps to look at Wesley’s body.
“There’s his shotgun,” Hunter said, pointing to where he had leaned it against the porch. “And this is the pistol he carried in his belt.” He handed her the gun.
“Who shot him?” asked Helen.
“I did,” said Jazz. “I carry a gun in my pack. He was moving us into the house. We were going to be hostages trapped in the girls’ cage. My mother jumped on him and knocked him down. He reached for his shotgun and fired it. Then I shot him.”
“I know,” said Helen. “Detective Collins watched it happen from the copter. How’d you know the girls were here?”
“Eric told me,” said Hunter. “He wanted us to help them escape. We were about to leave when Wesley shot him through his windshield.”
Stanley’s voice came through her radio. “The ambulance is here. Send them up.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Helen. “You go on up to the bridge. I need to check everything here.” She tipped her hat. “Thanks for saving the girls.”
They nodded then moved toward the truck. Jazz sat in front. Claire sat in the middle of the back seat, the girls still clinging to her. Jazz passed two hard-boiled eggs and apples back to the girls.
“Eat them slowly, girls,” said Claire.
After scarfing her egg and drinking some water, Danielle looked at Hunter through the rearview mirror. “What’s your name?”
“Hunter.”
“Jazz told us you were the one who wanted to save us. Why?”
“Because I know what abuse feels like, and I wish someone had saved me and Jazz, and even Eric. But you two have suffered more than all of us combined. I couldn’t live with myself knowing you were still in a cage.”
She moved her hand over the seat. “Thank you, Hunter.”
He held her fingers. “When’s the last time anyone held your hand?”
Her face clouded, and she bit her lip. “I can’t remember.”
“That changes today. We’re going to give you and Destiny only good memories from now on.”
Claire hugged them to her chest. “We’ll take care of you.”
As he drove, Hunter finally calmed down. The screams and shots and crying replayed like distant memories in his mind. And then he felt pride—in himself and Jazz. They had been broken by others, but they had healed themselves enough to save others. God, that felt good.
As he emerged from the bushes, he saw Stanley waiting with the helicopter in a rest area near the bridge. An ambulance was parked nearby.
He drove to them and stopped. They all exited Hunter’s truck.
“The medics need to check the girls,” said Stanley.
Danielle and Destiny still clung to Claire. “I want to stay with them.”
“That’s fine,” said Stanley.
Claire and the girls entered the ambulance.
Hunter started to tell Stanley what had happened, but Stanley said he’d watched most of it.
“Supposedly,” said Hunter, “Wesley had cameras everywhere, so you should find videos of everything. We want to take them to Claire’s house in Clear Creek, if that’s OK. Feed them, let them clean up. Wesley’s computer and files are in the house, so maybe you won’t need to debrief them too much. They lived naked in a cage for four years, and they haven’t eaten for a while. If there’s nothing seriously wrong, can we take them home then bring them to Fairbanks in a couple of days?”
“Sorry, Hunter. I’ll have to take them into town.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened. “And stay where? In another cell? Or locked in a room?”
“I’m sorry.”
After a few more minutes, the medics released the girls who still held Claire. Stanley and Hunter walked over to them.
Claire kissed the girls’ foreheads. “Jazz has some clothes at the house which will fit you. And I have a nice soft bed for both of you.”
“Ma’am,” said Stanley.
“My name’s Claire.”
“Claire, I need to bring them with me back to the station.”
Claire clutched the girls. “Why?”
“Because . . . it’s procedure. I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to question them today? Where will they sleep? Who’ll be with them?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to take them.” He reached out his hand to Danielle.
“No!” both girls screamed.
Hunter moved between Stanley and Claire. “Are you going to force them into your car, screaming and crying? We saved them. They want to stay with us. Send a trooper later today and tomorrow to check on them. We’ll bring them up on Monday. What’s wrong with that?”
The girls cried into Claire’s chest as they squeezed her.
“They haven’t had a mother for years, Stanley,” said Claire. “They need one now. Let us take them home.”
“They’ve already gone through enough,” said Hunter. “Why make them scream and cry more. They’ve already felt more pain than you have in your lifetime.”
Stanley nodded. “OK. I’ll send Helen out to your house later today.”
Jazz and Claire took the girls back to Hunter’s truck.
“Thanks, Stanley,” said Hunter.
He nodded. “I called your father and told him what you’d done. He started crying and said to tell you he was sorry. Maybe you can call him sometime.”
“Maybe. Thanks for showing up, Stanley.”
“Those girls owe you their lives. Thank you for saving them.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.” Despite his efforts to hold his feelings in check, Hunter’s face flushed and his throat ached. “Where were you four years ago for me and for Jazz and Eric and Tatiana? This has got to stop.” He turned to walk away then stopped. “I’m sorry, Stanley. This is not your fault. I’m just tired of seeing everyone’s worst memor
ies.”
“When you stop seeing them, you’ll know they’re still out there, but you won’t be able to do anything about them.”
“Not true. I can still care. Still help. All they need is for me to put their happiness above my own. Anyone can do that.”
They shook hands, and Hunter walked back to his truck. “Let’s go home.” He pulled onto the highway and headed north.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jazz watched her mother smiling in the mirror, holding both girls as they slept, one on each shoulder, and felt proud. Her mother had stood up for Jazz and herself today. When had Jazz ever seen that? When had she ever felt proud of her mother? “They haven’t had a mother in years, maybe not even then. Do you want to take care of them, Mom?”
“Yes. Would that bother you?”
“Not at all. I think it would be great.”
“I never held you enough. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure we’ll make it up from now on, Mom. Besides, I have Hunter to hold me. Where will they sleep?”
“In my room. I can sleep on the floor.”
“They might do better next to you.”
Claire hugged them closer. “I feel so sorry for them. All anyone has done is use them. How could they survive all those years?”
How had Jazz? Or Hunter? Or Eric and Tatiana?
Jazz couldn’t understand why some like Hunter’s mother gave up and died, while others clung to life. Hunter would’ve killed himself years ago if not for the timely arrival of the police after Joe found him bleeding on the floor. Now with the full knowledge of his past, he wouldn’t consider suicide. Why? Because he had seen the suffering of others and wanted to stop it.
Did Jazz feel better because Hunter had deleted her bad memories, or because she’d found peace and purpose through helping Hunter and now the girls?
Her mother had lived a miserable life, wallowing in the selfishness of men she hoped would love her, drowning in alcohol, beating herself up for losing Rosie. Now she was strong and happy. When had Jazz ever seen the look of peace on her mother’s face as she did now, holding Danielle and Destiny? The reason for the change—saving the girls.
They all could have died at Wesley’s. They’d been willing to give everything to help the girls. When had anyone elevated the girls’ happiness above their own?
Someone To Kiss My Scars: A Teen Thriller Page 27
