Nicked

by Michael Arches

  -o-o-o-

  FBI Denver Field Office

  Because of the festivities the night before, Beau got to his cubicle a little later than usual. Yang was waiting for him. Never a good start to the day.

  “Nice of you to drop by, Agent Boudreau. Are you aware we still have one victim to rescue and three kidnappers to apprehend?”

  “Yes, sir, and I was planning on heading up to Winter Park as soon as I touch base with CBI.” He was tempted to add, even though I have no idea how we’re going to find them among thousands of weekend skiers.

  “I’m working with the governor’s office and the CBI leadership to arrange a press conference to celebrate recovering Dawn Milner. I expect you to make yourself available.”

  The guy didn’t know enough about the case to get one of the main victim’s name right, but he wanted to celebrate…and brag. Beau would’ve much rather spent his time looking for Skye, but the boss was the boss. “Yes, sir.”

  Yang had no sooner strolled away with a self-satisfied smirk on his face than Lenny called. That was sure to be a much happier conversation, no matter what the guy said.

  “The news could be better, and it could be worse,” Lenny said. “I won’t hold you in suspense. A woman named Annie Winthrop was out walking her black Lab named Trixie this morning when the mutt made a beeline for a cabin near a dirt backroad in the mountains east of Rocky Mountain National Park. Trixie wasn’t on a leash, of course. And she didn’t want to cramp the dog’s style. Anyway, to make a twenty-minute story short, Trixie was fascinated by this cabin she passed hundreds of times before without incident. Annie went after the dog and noticed the padlock on the cabin’s front door looked beat up. Actually, it hung down unlocked and she peeked inside. Something was rolled up in a tarp. And it stank.”

  Beau knew where this story was going. “Labs make great cadaver dogs. Heather?”

  “Afraid so. We knew from Dawn that she’d been killed, but they hadn’t found the body at the farm.”

  “Tell me there’s a silver lining, that we found some evidence that points to Skye and the others.”

  Lenny sighed. “Not yet, anyway. I’ll flip you for the job of notifying her next of kin. I’ll even trust your coin toss.”

  Beau figured he owed penance for getting in late. “No need, I’ll do it then head up to Winter Park. On the way up the mountain, pray to the Virgin that Heather is the last victim we have to bury.”

  -o-o-o-

  Ski cabin

  Maude told Skye to unload both vehicles. That was sure to take hours, which was excellent. During that time, at least, she’d remain alive. Skye often paused to ask Maude where to put certain objects. The longer she could drag the process out, the better.

  Meanwhile, the two assholes were as unhappy with each other as ever. They argued over almost every issue, including whether they needed to earn more money.

  Unfortunately, they didn’t bother to hide their scheming from Skye. That was a problem because it confirmed they had no intention of ever freeing her. As soon as they decided she was more trouble than she was worth, they’d snuff her out just as callously as they’d murdered Heather.

  As the morning wore on, Kane kept pushing Maude about the possibility of nicking another young woman to sell as a sex slave. Maude had plenty of money for the moment, so she argued that they should hunker down.

  At the top of the hour, the oldies radio station playing in the background broadcasted a few minutes of news. The announcer said, “Police across Colorado continue their search for Maude Gacy, her son Rufus Gacy, and her boyfriend Kane Erickson. All are violent murderers, and their photos and personal details are available on our website. Thanks to the valiant efforts of the FBI and CBI, one of their victims, Dawn Miller, has already been recovered.”

  Skye gasped. It took every bit of effort to keep from laughing out loud. Dawn had gotten away. A wave of warmth flowed from Skye’s heart and filled her body. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy since she’d been kidnapped. If nothing else pleasant ever happened in her life, at least she’d had the satisfaction of knowing Dawn was free.

  The reporters described a police raid on a Greeley brothel. The two assholes on the living room sofa sat silent, their mouths agape. From their expressions, Skye could tell the feckin’ eejits had been as unaware of the news as she was.

  They immediately turned on the telly in the living area and found CNN. Skye stood transfixed until Maude barked, “Get back to work, bitch.”

  Skye returned to the garage for another box of kitchenware. As she put its contents on the kitchen shelves, she kept peeking at her two captors. Their eyes stayed glued to the telly. Skye hadn’t enjoyed herself so much since she first set eyes on Maude. The reporter made it clear that the American cops from multiple jurisdictions were working day and night to find her. But nobody was pounding down the front door yet. And none of the stories even mentioned them looking in the mountains.

  Worst of all, one of the commentators said Maude’s son Rufus, the guy who had brutalized Dawn, Isabella, and Heather, was free again. Would he seek out his mother to hide with her?

  Chapter 22

  US District Courthouse, Cheyenne

  The brazen attack had stunned the courtroom’s occupants, then everyone began talking at once. The judge banged his gavel and threatened to clear the gallery if people didn’t shut up. That comment restored quiet, probably because most members of the public were dying to see what would happen next. Athena was just as curious, if not more so. She had a lot at stake.

  Roger entered the courtroom and approached the judge. “Your Honor, we’ve identified the attacker as Rufus Gacy, petty criminal just released from jail in Greeley, Colorado. He disguised his appearance in an attempt to get close to the jury.”

  Nobody knew for sure what his plan had been, but given his size and the blackness of his heart, Athena assumed he’d wanted to cause a mistrial by hurting or killing at least one juror. That would delay justice for months, if not longer, because they would have to find somewhere else to hold the trial. Any new Wyoming jury would be hopelessly prejudiced against Dominique Santiago.

  Athena couldn’t stand the thought of another delay, with more months of hiding and worry. Plus, delaying the trial for months would give the cartel more time to find and kill the government’s witnesses.

  Although the prospect for more delays was depressing as hell, the judge would make the call. Athena would have little or no say in what happened next.

  Trujillo and Roger left the courtroom, probably to confer with the two other Federal judges at the courthouse. Athena expected they’d also confer with Federal judges from other jurisdictions as they tried to figure out the best path forward. One thing was clear—the American legal system was poorly equipped to manage such powerful criminal organizations. The drug cartels were much more dangerous than the Italian Mafia in its heyday.

  Dominique Santiago sat quietly and stared straight ahead. Her lips were barely turned up at the corners, that being her only signal suggesting how pleased she was by the chaos her family had created. During the rare moments when one of her lawyers spoke to her, their conversations were always short. Athena suspected they were as afraid of their client as everybody else.

  At least a dozen marshals and bailiffs came and went. Athena knew several, and waved one over. “How did Gacy get away?”

  “He popped out of the courtroom unexpectedly. We were all focused on the crowd of people still trying to get into the building. And it just so happened that, at exactly the right time, a driver in a black Escalade had double-parked in front of the courthouse long enough for Gacy to jump in the SUV.”

  Roger eventually exited the door behind the bench that led from the judge’s chambers and strode over to Athena. “How do you feel about going on?” he whispered. “You still up to it?”

  She told him the flat-out truth. “I hate the idea, but I hate even more the thought of waiting for the prosecutio
n process to start over from square one.”

  He nodded. “Lot of that going around.”

  Then, he turned to Elijah. “How do you feel about going forward?”

  He grinned “Why wouldn’t we? I never wanted to live a long life anyway. But I guarantee you the defense won’t be happy.”

  Roger lowered his voice even more. “Fuck ’em. That’s the sentiment of every judge we’ve talked to, more than a dozen. That includes three members of the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals.”

  That was the appellate court that would hear any appeal from this trial. Athena fought to keep a smile off her face. “Like Elijah says, don’t get mad, get even. Let’s roll.”

  Roger went back to the judge’s chambers, and a few minutes later, the marshal in charge of the Cheyenne office forced the members of the gallery closest to the jury box to move farther away. And six of the special marshals from San Francisco, burly men dressed in civilian clothes, sat in the emptied section of the gallery.

  Plus, a half-dozen extra bailiffs spread out across the courtroom.

  Trujillo’s clerk returned to her desk. “All rise.”

  The judge ascended to the bench, looking as calm as ever. “Please ask the jury to return,” he said to one of the bailiffs.

  A defense attorney stood. “Your Honor, the defense moves for an immediate mistrial. The earlier attack was so shocking and horrifying that it would be manifestly unjust to continue this trial. No sane juror could ignore or forget the surprise and fear they just experienced.”

  The judge motioned for the bailiff to get the jury. “Motion denied. The attacker didn’t injure any of the jurors or even approach any. Feel free to put your motion in writing, and I will reconsider my decision during the noon break. In the meantime, the government shall proceed with its first witness.”

  -o-o-o-

  Ski cabin

  Skye continued to shift boxes and other items from the pickup to various rooms inside the house. Neither of her tormentors seemed to pay her much attention. She wasn’t even sure they cared what she did. Instead, they watched the TV news and argued.

  Skye was sorely tempted to open a garage door, but it would definitely make enough noise to be heard from the living room. If they were paying attention. Which they probably weren’t, but she was still wearing shackles and a shock collar. She probably couldn’t get far without one of her captors noticing.

  While putting a lamp in the living room, Skye got a great view out of the panoramic windows. For seventy-five meters, the open ground was covered with deep snow. Beyond the yard, a dense evergreen forest gradually sloped away. She could see more houses sprinkled in the forest off in the distance. And several kilometers away, a series of craggy mountains jutted straight up into the sky. They were high in the Colorado Rockies.

  The view was stunning but depressing. She had no idea where she could go for help. All morning, she’d listened for sounds produced by possible neighbors or passing traffic, but the area had remained deathly silent. For all she knew, they were many kilometers from the nearest house or business. And overnight, it had been bitter cold outside. Here, she seemed to be just as isolated from people as she’d been at the farm, if not more so.

  -o-o-o-

  US District Courthouse, Cheyenne

  Athena hobbled to the stand using her cane. She briefly described her work as an assistant US attorney in happier times. Then she described the dinner party she’d attended at a Cheyenne restaurant on one fateful night and explained why she’d parked her new Accord at the top of the parking garage. Athena related how everything had seemed perfectly ordinary while she’d climbed five flights of stairs. Then she’d opened the door into a different world and Bang, Bang. Not even enough time to turn around. Lights out.

  After taking a couple of deep breaths to control her emotions, Athena picked up the story several days later when she awoke in a local hospital. Elijah asked question after question about her injuries. Finally, Santiago’s defense attorney objected that he was being repetitive.

  Elijah was, and deliberately so. He continued to ask about the physical and mental effects of head wounds until the judge eventually instructed him to move on.

  But Athena didn’t have anything more to say. Her direct testimony concluded with her walking with her awkward gait over to the jury box. That made her injuries and her pregnancy obvious.

  When she stood in front of the jury box, she lifted her bangs. Several rounds of plastic surgery partially hid the entry wound, but the jurors could still see a slightly discolored spot on her forehead.

  Athena took a moment to let them imagine what that bullet had done to her right frontal lobe. Then, she turned her head sideways and parted her hair on the right side to show the jury the much more extensive scarring above and behind her right ear where the bullet had exited her head. That wound had been much larger, and the scar tissue left the bald spot behind. Fortunately for her, it was hidden by her long, sandy brown hair.

  Although Athena had promised herself that she wouldn’t give Santiago the satisfaction of seeing her break down, it took all her self-control to keep from crying. It was bad enough that the two monsters she’d met in that parking garage had almost destroyed her life, but still, Santiago and her family were doing everything possible to finish Athena off.

  Judge Trujillo allowed a short break to allow Athena to regain her composure. Too soon, Santiago’s high-powered defense attorney began his cross-examination. According to Norma, he was famous in Houston for getting drug lords off despite overwhelming evidence against them.

  Athena and both prosecutors had expected the slimeball to attack her immediately, but he smiled at Athena before his first question. “It’s fair to say, isn’t it, that when you opened the door at the top of the garage stairs, you were distracted?”

  She had to admit it. Everyone had gotten a good laugh at her expense when she’d described earlier how she’d wanted to hurry home that night to pee. “Yes.”

  Thus began the gentlest cross-examination she’d ever witnessed. The defense had apparently decided that beating on Athena would only piss off the jury more.

  Instead, Santiago’s main defense turned out to be mistaken identity. That wasn’t a bad approach because Athena was the only government witness who could put Santiago at the scene of the crime. She wasn’t lying but merely confused. And that was perfectly understandable. Who wouldn’t be confused if some of their brains had gotten blown out?

  Athena admitted she had never met Santiago before the incident, and Athena agreed that she’d never even spoken to the Nicaraguan woman on the phone. Plus, Athena had only seen the two shooters for a few seconds before both shot at her and one connected.

  Overall, it was a reasonable defense, and Santiago’s attorney didn’t have to convince every juror. He’d win if he could merely create reasonable doubt in one juror’s mind.

  For an hour, the Houston lawyer tried his best. But Elijah, Norma, and Athena had all expected that.

  During the redirect examination, Elijah asked Athena to explain why she recognized Dominique Santiago instantly. Mainly, it was because the local Cheyenne paper had printed dozens of photographs of the beautiful, rich bitch in the year before Athena got shot. And during that year, the US Attorney’s Office had been secretly investigating Santiago’s many contributions to local political campaigns. The Federal Election Campaign Act expressly prohibited foreign nationals from making contributions or expenditures in U.S. elections, including state and local elections. Athena had been part of a team of prosecutors and FBI agents who were quietly building a case against the Santiago cartel.

  As Athena stepped off the stand, she stared straight at Santiago, hopefully for the last time. With any luck, Athena’s testimony would put the pretty monster into a Federal prison for the rest of her life.

  Judge Trujillo ordered another recess, and Athena looked around for her purse. When she found it, Santiago motioned for Athena to approach and whis
pered, “No matter what happens to me in this case, keep looking over your shoulder. We’ll never stop hunting you and your kid. Never.”

  -o-o-o-

  Ski cabin

  Maude’s surprise eventually turned to fury. The fucking government knew about her taking Dawn to the whorehouse. That was more than enough reason to start drinking early, and Kane never needed an excuse.

  He’d been right about one thing, though. The cops would never expect her and Kane to grab another slave so soon. Then they could hunker down with enough cash to hide for months. But one question puzzled her. “Who can we sell another woman to? Diesel Curtis is in jail.”

  Kane shrugged. “I know lots of pimps.”

  She ignored the question that first popped into her head, namely how did her boyfriend happen to know so many? Instead, she said, “Call and make sure we’ll have a buyer.”

  He did what she told him, and she listened in on his conversations. To her surprise, several seemed to be interested despite all the bullshit from the FBI and CBI in the media.

  After a fourth call, Kane said to her, “The brothels that use sex slaves still want girls. Good for us.”

  Maude strode back and forth in front of a view to die for. Why had she worked so hard for most of her life but couldn’t afford to own a place like this? It didn’t matter, because thanks to their new business plan, now she could live a good life. “Who’ll give us the best price?”

  “A Santiago brothel in Denver, but the head guy there thinks someone followed us to their place in Greeley. Next time, they want to collect the girl in a neutral location.”

  That was probably best for all concerned. “Fine. Skye can make us lunch then we’ll prowl. I’d like to try Golden this time. Lots of fancy shops and restaurants there. The bitches love that kind of thing.”

  While she was eating, Maude’s cell rang. She hoped the unfamiliar number was Rufus.

  “Hey, Mom, good to hear you’re still chasing ladies.”

  Not the friendliest of greetings, but she pushed that thought aside. “Hello, son, great to hear from you. Where are you?”