Nicked

by Michael Arches

  But the cellar’s temperature was the least of Skye’s worries. “What next horror awaits?”

  “As long as Rufus stays away, we should be okay,” Dawn said. “Thank God he keeps getting in trouble with the law. By the way, we tend to go to bed early. Maude will wake us at first light, so get as much sleep as you can. Nothing else to do down here but bitch anyway, and that doesn’t do us any good.”

  “Okay, but first, I want to hear some of your stories,” Skye said, “including the bad parts. I’m not a kid anymore, even though I look like one.”

  Heather and Dawn stared at each other but said nothing.

  “And before you get to that, I want to be sure of one thing. If we get a chance to grab Maude while she’s distracted, we’ll all do it together, right?”

  “Damned right,” the women said without hesitating.

  They sat together on Heather’s bed, and the women told Skye a little about how they’d been kidnapped and what’d happened to them since. Then, they told her about Isabella.

  It was so hard to hear. Isabella had been sweet and gentle, but Rufus became obsessed with brutalizing her. After three weeks, she told the others she thought he’d never leave her alone. One night, without telling the others, Isabella snuck out of bed in the wee hours of the night, tied a stretch of rope around her neck, and hung herself from one of the bars on the window.

  Heather and Dawn found her like that in the morning. The story was horrific, but to make matters worse, Skye had noticed several similarities as Dawn and Heather had described Isabella. Rufus had picked Skye out as an even younger, more innocent replacement. She tried to show the others a British stiff upper lip, but it was an act. She laid awake in Isabella’s old bed for hours and ached, fearing the coming days.

  -o-o-o-

  Athena’s ranch

  She had struck out with videos of I 25 and US 36, so she checked other roads the kidnapper might’ve used to come from the north. Hours of watching the traffic videos had blurred her vision in her one good eye. The left one was plastic. Nevertheless, she persisted because she’d have to leave Colorado soon. Skye deserved her best effort. And Beau could probably get a warrant to do the same work if he thought it worthwhile.

  The bottom line was that the kidnapper had to live somewhere, and her instincts told her it wasn’t Denver. She took a deep breath, rubbed her good eye, and dove back into the CDOT video database.

  East of I 25, the next major highway was I 76. It traveled from Denver to the northeast across the plains to Nebraska. There wasn’t much out that way beyond Commerce City, but she checked anyway. The first camera location she selected was just north of Denver’s city limits.

  The camera recorded a steady flow of traffic coming from the northeast toward downtown. The morning light was bright enough for her to see colors well. She settled in for another long session.

  But a few minutes later, there it was…a white, full-sized pickup with a mottled red canopy. It proceeded southwest in the left lane. Then, like a ghost, it was gone.

  Did I imagine it? She had sped the video considerably, so she only saw the approaching truck for a second.

  She backed up the video feed and stared intently at her computer screen this time. Yes, there it was, a pickup very much like the one she’d been searching for. Athena couldn’t see the driver because of glare on the windshield, but she was almost sure she’d found the right truck. Unfortunately, the front license plate was too beat up to read.

  A sense of elation filled her anyway. All those hours with a bleary eye had paid off. The bastard had come from the northeast.

  She was tempted to call Beau right away, but she wanted more proof. The perp had probably returned from downtown on the same road. She switched to the camera on the southeast side of the freeway and began reviewing the video feed a half-hour later. It would’ve taken the guy at least that long to get to downtown, wreak his havoc, and return.

  Actually, it took him longer than she’d expected, but she spotted the pickup again.

  This time, it was moving a little slower in the right lane. She still couldn’t read the front license, but the glare on the windshield had disappeared. A large, white man with dark hair and a full beard sat behind the steering wheel. Someone smaller sat in the passenger’s seat. Athena couldn’t tell much about the second person because the visor was down on that side of the pickup.

  Several times, she replayed the portion of the video showing the truck. Athena selected a second camera location on I 76, ten miles northeast of the first. It was easy to tell how long it would take for the pickup to travel the distance because she could see the other vehicles that had been driving alongside the pickup when it passed the first camera on that side of the road.

  But the truck with the red canopy didn’t make it to the second camera position. That meant the driver had probably turned onto a side road between the two locations. Unfortunately, there were several exits along that stretch of road he could’ve taken.

  Athena was a bit disappointed, but she had found the needle in the haystack. That was huge progress.

  She made herself a cup of hot cocoa to celebrate. Champagne was out of the question thanks to Leo resting quietly in the oven at that moment.

  She called Beau with the news, but his phone went straight to voicemail. She hoped that meant he was close. Once he left Boulder behind, he wouldn’t encounter any cell service until he arrived at her ranch.

  -o-o-o-

  Beau showed up shortly after midnight. His eyes drooped, and his shoulders, too. After she greeted him, she told him what she’d found.

  That brought a grin back to his face, and his eyes opened like saucers. “Holy shit! How did you get access to CDOT’s network?”

  If he’d been thinking clearly, he wouldn’t have spoken a silent question out loud. “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no truths.”

  He nodded. “Right, but how am I supposed to explain knowing exactly which cameras to check at CDOT?”

  They’d played this game before. “Your confidential informant told you. Somebody on a burn phone keeps calling you with helpful tips. It’s no doubt because you’re such a great guy, and you know how to protect your informants.”

  He rolled his eyes but called Laura and Taylor to pass on the info. “They’ll get the warrant and check with CDOT first thing in the morning. What’ve you figured out in terms of possible locations for the perp?”

  On her computer, she showed him a map of the Denver area and zoomed in on the section of I 76 where she’d spotted the pickup. “As you can see, roads go every which way. It’s the Denver suburbs. The bastard could be anywhere on the screen or farther north. He didn’t take the freeway northeast for long, but if he exited on US 85, he could’ve gone way north. That highway follows the Platte River to Greeley and up to Wyoming.”

  “That’s a huge area to search. We can check and see how many white pickups are registered north of Denver and east of I 25.”

  Just by looking at the map, Athena estimated the area contained over a hundred thousand residents. “Good luck. I’d love to help, but the trial takes precedence. I hope to be back in a week, if not sooner. Barney is going to a neighbor’s house, but Hagrid is coming with me. The neighbor doesn’t think she can handle him. I told her he’s a hundred times better trained than the beagle, but she didn’t want to chance it.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking him,” Beau said. “I expect the cartel to come after you with everything they’ve got.”

  Chapter 7

  Maude’s farm

  At first light, some man unlocked the basement door and yelled down the stairs, “Rise and shine, bitches.”

  Skye’s heart stopped. She could barely whisper, “Rufus?”

  Heather shifted in the bed next to her and yawned lazily. “No,” she whispered back, “Kane Erickson, Maude’s boyfriend. He’ll leer at you when she’s not looking but should keep his hands to himself. His girlfriend wouldn’
t appreciate the bastard diddling the slaves.”

  An immense wave of relief flowed through Skye. Her worries were further reduced by the relaxed way the women talked as they dressed. Skye stayed in the sweatsuit she’d slept in. Mornings in Colorado tended to be nippy.

  They clomped upstairs together, and Skye’s back remained sore. The slaves made breakfast for everyone. Only Maude and Kane got sausage and the good coffee. He was older than his nasty girlfriend and chubbier. His bald head was surrounded by stringy gray hair on the sides. The man mostly stayed quiet, which was a blessing. And when he did talk, he complained about losing his job running a fast-food restaurant in a town called Greeley.

  Skye ate her eggs and toast in silence. Drank water. Maude didn’t own any tea, except for a jar of those hideous instant crystals. Skye washed down two more ibuprofen.

  After she finished the dishes, Kane led her and the other slaves outside to the greenhouse. It was close to freezing cold outside, but inside the glasshouse, the air was warm and humid. The only downside was that it stank of cow manure.

  Kane carried a controller for the shock collars in his breast pocket but didn’t pack a gun. He plopped into the recliner and pulled Maude’s tablet and earbuds out of a bag. The old idiot chuckled often, as though watching a funny movie or TV show.

  Skye and the women picked up their work where they’d left off the night before. Slowly, the greenhouse was filling with new life.

  As Skye worked, she kept her eyes open for potential weapons. One possibility was a three-foot-long aluminum wand at the end of the garden hose, but even if she caught Kane unawares and swung it hard, she doubted she could knock him out. No, she needed to get to the barn. Her granda’s was filled with junk he’d stockpiled over decades. She and he could’ve fought off a dozen thugs using the stuff he’d stashed in his barn.

  -o-o-o-

  Athena’s ranch

  Athena woke up and smelled breakfast in the kitchen. She smiled to herself because Beau was a terrific cook. He had to leave early, but he’d still found the time to make pain perdu, French toast, and bacon.

  While they ate, he coordinated with Laura and Taylor to plan their day. It was sure to be another long one for all three of them. At least, she’d focused their search.

  Athena packed for a week away. The Department of Justice had rented a secluded house near Cheyenne where she would stay while they prepared for her testimony. Staying alive met hiding from the Santiago cartel. They’d been trying to find her for over two years. She was the government’s main witness against senior cartel member Dominique Santiago.

  One evening about thirty months ago, Athena had accidentally stumbled upon a payoff by Dominique to the then-Wyoming Attorney General. Both had fired pistols at Athena at the same time, but only one bullet had hit her. It tore a channel through her right frontal lobe.

  The FBI never did figure out which one had the better aim, but it didn’t matter. Both were guilty of attempted murder of a law enforcement official. DOJ frowned on that sort of thing—for good reason. They’d already convicted the former state attorney general for his part of the crime. He was serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.

  While Athena packed, Beau called Denver General to get an update on Mingus Dunbar. After Beau hung up, he said, “To my surprise, Skye’s dad made it through the night. He’s in critical but stable condition. I need to arrange for a police sketch artist to visit him this morning to try to get a drawing of the old woman who was sitting by Skye when she was kidnapped.”

  “She was probably the passenger in the truck video I found. Definitely get that drawing out to the public, and include the description of the driver and the photo of the truck. Might as well have millions of eyes looking for the two and the vehicle. Skye must be terrified.”

  When she was packed, Athena dropped Barney off at the neighbor’s house, and Beau drove her and Hagrid to Boulder to meet Roger Conway, her contact at the US Marshals Office. He’d drive her and her mutt up to the safe house in Wyoming.

  -o-o-o-

  Maude’s farm

  It didn’t take long for Skye to develop a backache that no normal dose of ibuprofen could tame. But when she approached Kane to beg for help, he zapped her in response.

  When he stopped shocking her, she yelled, “Dobber! Can’t I even ask a simple question?”

  Her answer came from another surge of electricity surrounding her neck. This one lasted so long, she passed out.

  When she came to, Dawn and Heather were kneeling over her. They helped her sit up.

  “Honey, you picked up a nasty bruise on your forehead,” Dawn said. “That’s where you hit the corner of one of these grates. I’m so sorry.”

  Sure enough, Skye’s forehead throbbed. That was something else to justify torturing both Kane and Maude to death in the most painful way possible.

  “Five-second warning!” the bastard said.

  Heather and Dawn helped Skye to her feet and steadied her as she stumbled back to where she had been filling the six-pack cells with potting soil.

  -o-o-o-

  Maude strode into the greenhouse and spoke to Kane. “I can’t get the damned tractor started. We need to disc the fields soon to kill the weeds that are starting to grow.”

  He shrugged as though he couldn’t care less. Skye knew from working for her granda that Maude had a big problem on her hands. A farmer had to keep discing fallow soil, or the weeds would soon take over.

  Maude yelled, “You’re a man, and you ought to know things. Daddy taught me to farm, but not how to fix broken machinery.”

  “That’s a sexist comment,” Kane said. “I’m a businessman, not a grease monkey.”

  “Can’t you at least look at the tractor?” she asked.

  He made no effort to get off his fat ass. “Wouldn’t do any good. Don’t know anything about engines or motors.”

  Before Maude could react, Skye saw the answer to her suffering. “I do, ma’am. My da taught me how to take care of cars and lawnmowers. All petrol engines are basically the same. If you’ve got the right tools and parts, I can probably fix your tractor.”

  Maude cocked her head and stared at Skye for a moment. “You bullshitting me, girl? You probably can’t screw in a lightbulb by yourself.”

  Skye almost blurted out that she was going to engineering school in the fall. Not only was she much smarter than the average seventeen-year-old, but from an early age, her da and granda had taught her how all kinds of things worked. Tractors were easy compared to airplanes, and she and Da had built a two-person plane from a kit.

  But before Skye opened her mouth, she remembered that she was supposed to be playing dumb. She wanted Maude and Kane to underestimate her. “Hey, go ahead and pay for a mechanic to come.”

  The woman stood there, seemingly frozen by indecision.

  Skye needed a chance to work standing upright for a change or even to sit. Plus, she wanted to check out Maude’s tools. Lots of farm tools could be useful weapons.

  Maude threw up her hands. “What the hell? Follow me. Don’t get any crazy ideas, because I have my shock controller and pistol.”

  Skye tried to keep the joy off her face as she followed the old hag to the barn. Inside, it was dark and musty. After spending an hour in the bright greenhouse, the barn seemed pitch black. And she could smell moldy hay. The building’s roof was probably leaking water that dripped into the loft.

  She accidentally stumbled over a pipe on the floor. Had to be more careful. Crap had been strewn everywhere. She almost whacked a shin on a corner of a manure spreader that was missing its wheels.

  When they reached the far side of the barn, Maude stopped beside an old, gray Ford tractor. The fenders were covered with scratches, and the paint had peeled from many places. “How old is this old fellow?”

  “Made in ‘65, and it has been running fine until now. Rufus charged the battery and added gas, but it won’t start.”

 
; “Did you check the ignition system?” Skye asked.

  “If you’re so damned smart, you check it.”

  Just that easily, the balance of power had shifted in Skye’s direction. Maude obviously didn’t know a thing about machines, and she wouldn’t be able to tell whether Skye was doing something useful or not. “Okay, where’re your tools and supplies? And can you turn on some lights?”

  Maude scowled. “Most of the lights have burned out. You can use the trouble light in the workshop. This way.”

  Maude led Skye into the dark part of the barn again, and the woman opened a creaky metal door. The stink from solvent wafted over them. Maude flipped a switch, and several weak fluorescent lights flickered on. More machinery, parts, and tools were scattered everywhere and piled high on the workbench.

  The back wall contained a pegboard holding plenty of dusty tools. Saws, hammers, and wrenches—all wonderful implements for smiting and dismembering human bodies. The dust made it hard to tell which tools still operated. Whoever had used the shop last had left a hell of a mess.

  “Where’s the trouble light?” Skye asked. “And we’ll need an extension cord.”

  Maude threaded her way through the stuff strewn across the shop floor and began opening floor-to-ceiling cabinets, seemingly at random. “I never spent much time in here. You’re just going to have to figure this out. And don’t try any tricks. I’ll be checking to make sure you don’t steal anything or are wasting time.”

  She patted the large revolver in its hip holster as though to reassure herself it was still there. But the threat was hollow. Fear was making her face pale. Maude was way out of her element, and Skye had spent hundreds of hours working with farm machinery.

  It was time to begin lulling the old lunatic into complacency. “All right, then, let’s get that tractor running.”

  One by one, she opened each cabinet to see what was inside and found a wide variety of mechanic’s tools. All were old, and some were in poor condition.

  When she finished looking inside each cabinet, Skye said, “Still no trouble light or extension cords. I can’t do much in the dark. Are you sure you didn’t use them somewhere else?”