by T. R. Ragan
“I love you, too,” she said.
He stood there, his chest tight, his insides crumbling, unsure of what to do next.
“Will you do me a favor when I’m gone?”
“Anything.”
“Will you take Little Vinnie on a long drive on the back roads of Dixon until you find a never-ending field of sunflowers? It’s hard to miss.”
“And then what?”
“And then pull over, sit still, and enjoy.”
THIRTEEN
Lara wished Patrick hadn’t found the knife she’d tucked away. It was sharp and deadly. Instead she would have to make do with the nail. Lara used the cement wall to keep the tip of the nail sharp. Patrick, she decided, wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.
Before Patrick had caught her trying to get away with one of his knives, he’d allowed her upstairs into the main part of the house many times. On those occasions, Lara had gotten at least a glance at every door leading outside. Two of them had bolts and chains that were too high for her to reach.
No matter which door she tried to escape through, she would need a chair.
If she tried to hurt him with the nail, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t do enough damage to give her time to escape. She needed to wait for just the right moment. When she was trapped in the trailer park, she’d waited too long to make her move. Next time Patrick let her inside the main part of the house, if ever, she would be ready. She had to be.
Although Patrick had never touched her or been creepy in that way, he was scary. And now she knew he was violent, too. The slap to her jaw had caught her off guard. Her mouth still felt bruised. But that’s not what frightened her the most. It was the way he looked at her sometimes . . . as if he wanted to get rid of her for good, maybe even kill her. She knew he was only keeping her alive because she was worth a large amount of money. She’d heard what men paid for young, untouched girls like her when she was at the farmhouse. Miranda had hinted at what these men did to girls like her. Lara had been too disgusted to think about it.
When she’d first been brought to Patrick’s house, she’d hoped to find a way to make him feel sorry for her, maybe let her go, but now she knew that would never happen. He didn’t have a heart. He was a horrible man, and she needed to do whatever she could to get away. Sometimes, when he let her watch TV with him, she’d hear him muttering about the dingy furniture or how much he hated the house. How he deserved better.
She wondered if he had a split personality. He could go from quiet to shouting at the top of his lungs in seconds. Whenever she heard his phone ring, she would run to the top of the stairs and listen at the door. That’s how she found out he was trying to sell her to the highest bidder. He spent hours every day trying to make a sale. His boss, whoever that was, seemed to be the problem. From what she’d overheard, the people Patrick was dealing with were afraid of what the boss would do if they made a deal with him.
Patrick, it seemed, had managed to hide her away without anyone else knowing. That’s why he kept her locked in the basement. During the last phone conversation she’d overheard, he’d sounded hopeful. Although she heard only one side of the conversation, he’d said something about meeting at a shipping yard and putting her on a boat. She didn’t like the sound of that, but if it ended up being her only chance at getting out of this house, then she would take it.
She was using a nail to scrape another letter into the wall when she heard him talking on his phone. Again she hid the nail away and tiptoed up the stairs to listen.
Patrick was about to open the door to the basement, check on the kid, and see what she was up to, when his phone rang.
“Hey,” the caller said, “it’s Eddie. Gage and I need to talk to you.”
Exasperated, Patrick said, “I’m busy. I’ll stop by the bar at the end of the week.”
“It has to be now. Today. Something happened last night. We need money.”
Patrick groaned. “How much?”
“A hundred thousand.”
Patrick held back a laugh. The good news was he had them all fooled. Morons like Eddie and his cousin, Gage, thought he had money, which gave him power. He looked around at the place he was renting. Peeling wallpaper and a cracked front window, drafty doors and a heating unit that could wake the dead. The place wasn’t fit for a fucking dog, let alone a human being. But he drove a sleek new BMW and he dressed in Armani, so they all thought he was rolling in dough.
“We’ll give you the deed to the place in exchange for cash,” Eddie went on.
The fucker was serious, Patrick realized. It was Patrick’s job to take care of guys like Eddie and Gage since Aster didn’t have time to deal with this sort of crap. What the hell had the two idiots gotten themselves into? He didn’t have to ask the question before Eddie told him.
“Faith McMann and friends stopped by the bar late last night,” Eddie said. “The giant who follows her around nearly killed Gage.”
Patrick shut his eyes and used his free hand to rub the throbbing ache at the back of his neck. “So, what did they want?” Patrick asked.
“They wanted information about the girl—what do you think?”
Patrick didn’t like his tone, leaning toward disrespectful, but he let it go for now. Nobody knew Patrick had the girl hidden away in the basement, so he wasn’t worried. Yet. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to make you think you need a hundred thousand dollars in cash? Are you two planning on running away?”
“Just need to hide out for a while until things calm down.”
Did he detect a stutter in Eddie’s voice? “That’s a lot of money,” Patrick told him.
“If you can’t manage it, we’ll have no choice but to pay Aster a visit and talk to him directly about getting some money and hiding out for a while.”
The boy had gumption. He’d give him that. “Is that a threat?”
There was a long pause before Eddie said, “No. It’s just that we don’t have too many options.”
Fucking liar. “I’ll need to run to the bank,” Patrick said to ease Eddie’s mind. “Why don’t the three of us meet at the construction site off Florin Road between Hedge and Bradshaw exactly two hours from now?” The site had been abandoned in 2009 after the builder went bankrupt. Foundations and partially built structures still dotted hundreds of acres, making the place look like a ghost town.
“We’ll be there,” Eddie assured him.
“Good.” Patrick disconnected the call. Forgetting all about the kid in the basement, he went to the closet in his bedroom and rifled through his things until he found a small bag to use to carry the money. He put a towel inside to give the bag some weight. He would go to the bank, withdraw everything he had in his account, which wasn’t much, and put the cash on top. He hurried to the bedside table and grabbed his gun. Then he looked in the mirror and frowned. The shabby weekend look wouldn’t do. He needed to shave, comb his hair, and put on his best suit.
FOURTEEN
Faith was in the family room playing cards with Hudson and Dad when Mom appeared with Detective Yuhasz in tow.
“Look who came to visit,” Mom said in her usual cheery tone.
Faith stood, surprised to see the detective out and about. She smiled at Yuhasz and said, “You’re looking pretty good. When did they let you out of the hospital?”
Dad stood, too, and shook the detective’s hand.
“I was released the other day,” Yuhasz said. “So this is Hudson, I gather?”
“Hudson,” Faith said, “this is Detective Yuhasz. He played a big part in helping find you.”
Hudson stood and offered his hand as his grandpa had done. “Thanks,” Hudson said.
Detective Yuhasz smiled. “You’re welcome.” He glanced at Faith. “Can I have a word with you in private?”
“Why don’t we take a walk outside?” Faith suggested. “I don’t believe you’ve ever seen the command post my family set up.”
The detective nodded, apologized for interrupting their card game, and then followed Fa
ith through the sliding glass doors.
Once they were inside the garage-size room now referred to as the command post, she locked the double doors behind them, then watched Detective Yuhasz make his way around the room as he checked things out. Although he had a sling strapped to his shoulder, his color was good. He looked healthy, as if the hospital stay had provided some much-needed rest.
He stopped to take a closer look at the maps on the wall and the list of names and places on the whiteboard. He looked from the pictures of suspects to the table covered with handguns and rifles.
She gestured for him to have a seat on one of the folding chairs scattered around the long, rectangular table in the middle of the room.
“So this is your headquarters,” he said.
She nodded. “My family thought we could use a place to meet and throw out ideas. It’s come in handy.”
He continued to look around.
“What’s going on, Detective?”
Neither of them bothered to take a seat.
“It’s about the information you gave me when I was in the hospital.”
She sort of figured that was what this was about.
“I think you know what has to be done,” he said.
“I understand, but is there any way you can hold off for a little while longer?”
“Why? Give me one good reason?”
“Lara.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to risk?”
“I think I do. Your job, probably your reputation.”
He rapped his knuckles against the table. “What exactly are you doing with this information?”
“I just need a little more time to watch some of these people. Once you hand the list over to the FBI or the chief of police, word will get out. You know it will. And once these guys find out authorities have the names of every john, pimp, and trafficker in the area, they’ll run.”
The tension hovered thick and heavy like rain clouds ready to burst.
He closed his eyes, exhaled.
“If you’ve looked over the list of names, you know there are very important people on it, including the mayor’s brother, a high-profile lawyer, and your son-in-law. Shit will hit the fan. And once that happens, Detective, it’ll be over. And what will happen to Lara? Can you tell me that?”
“I can’t keep this from them. And to tell you the truth, I don’t see what good another day or two is going to do you.”
“Please,” she begged. “I’m trying to get information to help me find my daughter.”
“You seem to think everyone else is sitting on the sidelines, twiddling their thumbs.”
“I never said that.”
“I have been gathering evidence,” Yuhasz told her. “But you know when it comes to entering any of these men’s homes or places of business, my hands are tied unless there is proof of any wrongdoing. Laws are put in place for a reason.”
“That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t have time for warrants. I can’t let the system slow me down, but I do understand you need to work within the law. I’m not looking for a conviction,” Faith told him. “I’m looking for my daughter.”
A hush fell around them before Yuhasz said, “There has been a string of arrests made lately—most having to do with persons linked to trafficking. Do you know anything about what’s going on?”
“Not a thing,” she lied. The truth was, Kirsten Reich and friends were out in full force, following the men on the list and calling in anything from a broken taillight to tinted windows.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
She said nothing. Just waited him out.
“Twenty-four hours,” he told her. “Not a minute longer.”
Twenty-four hours could very well be the difference between finding Lara dead or alive. The men in charge of this trafficking business had to be getting nervous. The recent arrests were no fluke. In twenty-four hours there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Faith and her friends were just getting started.
The moment he heard a knock on the door, Beast grabbed his gun. They didn’t get too many visitors. And after the bar episode last night, he figured it couldn’t be good. A peek through the window revealed he’d been wrong. There was no reason for worry. It was Faith’s sister, Jana.
He opened the door.
Her gaze fell to the gun in his hand.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot you.”
She put a hand over her heart. “That’s good to hear. I was in the area and wanted to stop by to talk with Rage. Is she here?”
“She’s in her room,” Little Vinnie said from the kitchen.
“Should I come back another time?”
Little Vinnie came forward, the same ugly apron he always wore tied around his neck and waist. He used the spatula to wave her inside.
“Put the gun away,” he told Beast. “Come on in,” he said to Jana. “Rage is awake. She’s doing some research on her computer.”
“Next time it might be a good idea if you call first and give us a warning.” Beast locked the door behind her and then set the gun on the table next to the door.
“I’ll do that,” Jana said as she made her way through the kitchen. “What are you cooking? It smells good.”
“Spaghetti with mushrooms. Rage’s favorite. Are you hungry?”
“Spaghetti is not my favorite meal,” Rage said as she stepped into the kitchen.
Jana looked as if she might weep as she wrapped her arms around Rage and held her tight.
Beast held back a laugh at the expression on Rage’s face. She looked annoyed as the very pregnant and too-friendly-for-her-liking mother-to-be held her close. The friendship the two of them had formed was thoroughly perplexing, and Beast had a feeling they both knew it.
“Why don’t you all sit down?” Little Vinnie said. “You might as well eat while you talk about whatever it is you came to talk about.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly intrude.”
Beast took Jana’s purse and set it aside while Little Vinnie ushered her into a chair before she could protest further.
“It’s no use fighting them,” Rage said. “It’s easier if you just pick up your fork and enjoy whatever Little Vinnie puts in front of you.”
Jana blushed but did as she was told.
Once everyone had a plate of spaghetti, they ate in silence.
Except Jana, who couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut.
Beast assumed she was one of those people who wasn’t comfortable with too much quiet. After each bite, she wiped her mouth, sipped her water, and then rambled on about one thing or another. She told them what her mom was up to and all about Steve’s recovery and about watching her neighbor’s two-year-old for forty-five minutes, just long enough for the toddler to get into the pantry. And then she began to sob.
Beast kept his eyes on his plate, tried to pretend he didn’t see her crying.
“What’s wrong?” Rage asked Jana with what sounded like genuine concern.
“I’m going to be a horrible mother. My neighbor’s child could have died.”
“How? Did he get a hold of cleaning supplies?”
“No, but he could have if I hadn’t found him in time.”
Rage put down her fork. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”
Jana sniffled, wiped her nose with the tissue Little Vinnie handed her. “The reason I came,” she barely managed, “is because your son’s parents, Sue and Danny, have been asking about you.” Jana got up from her chair, which seemed to be a struggle, and went to where Beast had put her purse. She pulled out an envelope.
“Go ahead and leave it all there on the table,” Rage said. “Thanks.”
Beast watched the exchange and wondered why Rage seemed so obviously disinterested.
Jana did as she requested and set the envelope on the coffee table. “There are letters and pictures,” Jana told Rage. “They’ve been trying to call you, but thought ma
ybe you weren’t feeling well and therefore sent everything to my address and asked me to get it all to you. They would love to visit again if you’re up to it.”
Rage didn’t respond. Instead she made eating spaghetti look like a time-consuming and complicated process. She picked up her fork, poked it into the center of her plate, and began turning the fork, winding the noodles in the tines.
Jana, Beast noticed, hadn’t moved from the spot where she’d found her purse. She simply stood as if frozen in place. For a moment Beast wondered if something was wrong. And then he noticed water gushing down both legs.
“Jana?” Beast said.
Rage narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
Little Vinnie jumped to his feet. “I think her water broke.”
Rage dropped her fork onto her plate. “What the hell?”
Jana hadn’t moved a muscle. Either she was in shock or she was in pain. It was hard to tell. “What should we do?” Beast asked nobody in particular.
“I can’t do this,” Jana said.
“Umm, you don’t actually have too much of a choice,” Rage told her as she rushed to her side, took her arm, and slowly escorted her to the couch. “I’m going to call your sister,” Rage said calmly. “She will call your husband, and then someone will talk to the doctor, and we’ll take it from there.”
“No,” Jana said. “Really. I mean it. I can’t do this.”
Rage made a face at Beast right before he went to grab a pile of clean towels.
When he returned, Little Vinnie picked up the phone, dialed, and then hung up. Beast had no idea who he’d been calling.
Little Vinnie scrambled around the kitchen next, filled a pot with water, and put it on the stove.
“What are you doing now?” Beast asked, more concerned about his dad than Jana.
“Boiling water. The first thing everyone does is boil water.”
Jana cried out in pain, a piercing screech that made Beast clench his teeth.
“You must know what to do,” Little Vinnie told Rage. “You’ve had a baby before.”
“Someone needs to call my husband,” Jana wailed. “I can’t have this baby without my husband.”
