Wrath (Faith McMann Trilogy Book 3)

by T. R. Ragan

  Bam! This time when he reversed, she turned the key and stepped on the gas. Her car sped forward and slammed into the front of the Nissan, tires squealing as she kept her foot on the gas, pushing him backward, tires smoking, the undercarriage rattling.

  His movements were frantic as he tried to find a way out of his predicament. It was no use. She had momentum on her side. She kept on the gas, pushing the car back an inch at a time until his back tires met with wet soil. He lost traction and disappeared over the edge.

  She let off the gas. Her shoulders tight, she sat still for a few seconds. Her hands trembled. She didn’t bother getting out of the car to see what happened. She made a U-turn and headed for the police station as planned.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The morning after losing Rage, Beast came out of his room, surprised to see Miranda sitting with his dad at the kitchen table.

  “Scrambled eggs and sausage on the stove,” Dad told him.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Little Vinnie frowned. “You didn’t eat last night. What are you planning on doing, starving yourself to death?”

  “Not a bad idea,” Beast said. “The two of you can sit around and watch me slowly fade away and die because I’m sort of tired of always being the one left behind to pick up the pieces. It gets old real fast. Watching my buddies get their arms and legs blown off was nothing compared to what was waiting for me once I got home.” He shook his head in wonder. “My wife and daughter and now Rage.”

  Nobody said a word.

  “I hate that stupid name,” Beast said. “Her name is Sally. Her name was Sally,” he amended. “I hated it then, and I hate it now. For fuck’s sake—Rage.” Feeling as frustrated and mean as a caged animal, he let out a growl. “Sally didn’t have an angry bone in her body,” he ground out. “The only person she was mad at was herself.”

  Beast stomped across the floor, coming to a halt at the front door. He flung the door open, then stood there silently staring outside. He thought about taking off, but then thought better of it and stepped back inside. When he turned back to face Dad and Miranda, he gave the young girl a piercing stare. “What were you thinking bringing her to the warehouse last night? Didn’t you know she was sick? Couldn’t you see she could hardly take ten steps without having trouble breathing?”

  “Leave Miranda out of this,” Dad warned. “This is about you and your loss. You’re not right in the head at the moment. What you’re feeling has nothing to do with Miranda.”

  Beast didn’t hear a word he said. His hand shook as he pointed a finger at Miranda. “If you had left well enough alone, Sally would still be alive.”

  Miranda jumped to her feet, nearly toppling the chair behind her. “You’re so damn selfish. And you’re a bully, too! Rage didn’t want to sit in bed and wait for death to come. I was only here for, what, less than a week before I took off? And even in that short amount of time I saw that she was ready to die. If you’d ever stopped to pay attention to her, really pay attention, you would have seen that she’d been dying long before I ever met you crazy people. Why do you think she kept trying to talk to you? She knew her time was nearly up.” Miranda took a shaky breath. “And for the record, not only were you in obvious denial; you were blind. Did you even see her dumping her food in her napkin and getting rid of it because she didn’t want to be lectured by you all day about what she should eat and how much rest she should get?” Miranda paused before adding, “If you ever listened to what she truly wished to accomplish, you never would have left her here alone last night. That’s not what she wanted, but you didn’t give her a choice.”

  Beast was livid. His blood thickened; his face heated. “You never should have brought her there last night,” he said, his tone deepening. “She was too sick to be out of bed.”

  Miranda tossed her napkin on the table. “She said you attended anger management classes for her. That’s ridiculous because you’re obviously the one with the problem.”

  His muscles quivered.

  “If you stopped to think for a minute before accusing me of driving her to her death,” Miranda went on, “you would see the truth. Rage had the keys to her car in her hand when I knocked on the door. She started that piece-of-shit engine right up and gave me two seconds to decide if I wanted to come along for the ride. I didn’t know where you two were or what sort of crazy shit you were all up to. How would I know?” Miranda stopped talking and looked at Little Vinnie. “Thanks for breakfast and for letting me stay the night. I appreciate it.” As she walked past Beast to grab her coat from the couch she said, “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a very special person, and I’m only glad I had the chance to know her.”

  After the door shut behind her, Little Vinnie began clearing the table.

  “Go ahead and have your say,” Beast told him. “You might as well.”

  But his dad merely dumped the eggs into the garbage and began cleaning the pan.

  “That girl had no business sleeping in Sally’s room. She’s been dead less than a day, and you’ve already given her room away?”

  Beast didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he swept past him and entered the ridiculously small hallway leading to Sally’s room. He flicked the switch. There was a sleeping bag and pillow on the ground. Apparently Miranda had a difficult time sleeping in Sally’s bed.

  He moved the blankets and pillow from the floor to the chair in the corner. He picked up Rage’s favorite T-shirt, a soft gray fabric with a Ramones graphic, carried it to the closet, and slid it carefully on to a hanger.

  He closed his eyes for a few seconds.

  After a quiet moment passed, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. Peacefulness settled over him as he felt her presence. Miranda is right, he thought. Rage had known exactly what she was doing when she drove to the warehouse and straight into madness.

  Rage had saved his life twice. The first time when he’d found her in the ditch, the same night he’d contemplated ending his own life. And again last night when she’d put herself in front of the shooter’s bullet meant for him.

  As he sat quietly, he found himself looking at the pile of papers she’d been working on these past few days. Rage had narrowed the ridiculous list of Patricks to three.

  The fact that he still thought of her as Rage was not lost on him. Even if he’d never liked the nickname she’d chosen, she’d been relentless about making sure everyone called her that. His guess was that choosing another name had more to do with never feeling a connection to the name Sally, given to her by people who’d never treated her well, never loved her the way she deserved to be loved. Perhaps the name Sally had belonged to someone she wanted to forget.

  With papers in hand, he plopped down on the edge of the bed and began looking through her notes: Patrick Monahan. Patrick Barnes. Patrick Fisher. There were no addresses, but she had scribbled down a few notes. For instance, Patrick Monahan had once lived in the Bay Area. In the margins she’d written down the name of a bank in Auburn with a question mark. She’d also printed and stapled a story about Patrick Barnes to her list. The guy had been arrested on drug charges and once worked as a pool maintenance man in Sacramento. And then there was Patrick Fisher. Again, in the margins, she’d written, “This could be the one. He recently sold a black BMW and he’s a registered pedophile.”

  Beast leaned over and opened the top drawer of her side table. Inside was a stack of envelopes tied together with a satin ribbon. The envelope on top had his name written on it in beautiful cursive. He brought the stack of envelopes to his lap and untied the ribbon.

  His chest ached.

  She’d also written letters to Little Vinnie, Callan, Faith, and Miranda.

  He swallowed the painful knot in his throat as he opened his envelope, his vision slightly blurred as he read:

  Charlie (I don’t think I’ve ever called you that), you already know how I feel about you and your dad, so I won’t bore you with long, mushy prose. After you pulled me from the side of the road and brou
ght me home to be a part of the family, I knew instantly that you and Little Vinnie were my people. Everybody needs someone, and I was so very lucky to get two of the best human beings on this earth. Treat your dad well. He loves you. Be kind to yourself because you deserve it. You’ve given so much, never taking a moment for yourself. It’s time for you to let go of the anger inside and live a little.

  All my love, Rage

  P.S. Please make sure you find a reputable buyer for the coin you’ll find in a plastic bag at the back of the drawer, and use the money to pay for Callan’s college.

  Deep inside the drawer he found the clear plastic bag holding the coin. He examined it closely, shaking his head, wondering when she might have gotten her hands on it as he read on:

  P.P.S. Please read Sandi Cameron’s letter and try to find a way to forgive her.

  P.P.P.S. I forgive you for never being able to find the words to tell me how much I meant to you. It’s OK because you were always there for me, and actions speak so much louder than words.

  Faith entered Detective Yuhasz’s office after he waved her in. He was on the phone, so she quietly took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. She’d decided not to tell him about her run-in with the man in the Nissan. Word would get out, and her father would be dead set against her leaving the house without protection. Bodyguards cost money, and she had better ideas of how to use the money hidden away in her parents’ backyard. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do what she could to protect herself. For starters, she would trade her Camry in for a used car.

  Not only did Aster Williams and his men seem intent on destroying her family; they seemed to put little value on life generally. It was all about money. The dollar was their god. Greed was their motivation.

  Once Yuhasz finished his conversation, his attention fell to her bandaged hand. “Got hurt in the scuffle?”

  She nodded. His sarcasm could not be missed. His annoyance with her was written all over his face, gouged in the deep grooves of his forehead.

  He leaned back in his chair, hands folded. “I made a mistake in trusting you to keep your end of the bargain.”

  “How so?”

  “You promised to let me know what you had planned,” he said.

  “I called you just as I said I would.”

  His frown deepened. “I trusted you.”

  “I couldn’t risk having one of your men appear too soon. If that had happened, if a police cruiser was spotted, do you think Aster Williams and his men would have continued with their plans? Would they have brought those children into the warehouse?” She shook her head. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

  He wasn’t merely annoyed with her; he was as angry as she’d ever seen him. But that didn’t stop her from defending her position. “Why would you or the FBI have used the manpower to go to the warehouse in the first place based on the word of some loser in a bar who happened to talk to Beast?”

  He said nothing.

  “And, besides, no one involved was to make a move. Nobody was to get shot. No gun was to be fired.”

  “And why in the world would you believe that? Every person on the scene, mostly everyday citizens handpicked by you and your friends, was armed. And yet you thought you could somehow take control of some of the most ruthless men out there?”

  “These traffickers are touching every walk of life. They have penetrated your department. They are everywhere.” She sat up taller. “Even with all the tragedy, I would do it again.”

  His face reddened.

  “This isn’t about breaking the law. This is my daughter we’re talking about,” she said, her anger just as palpable. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get my child back.”

  “You’ve gone from careless to reckless,” he said flatly.

  “Aren’t you calling the kettle black, Detective? Didn’t you bend the rules when it was your daughter’s life at stake?”

  “Enough is enough,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The judge who agreed to your release after your last incident is reconsidering his decision. Within the next twenty-four hours, he’ll be assessing the current situation and make the ruling as to whether or not to have you locked up again.”

  She leaned forward, her good hand gripping the edge of his desk. “Why would he do such a thing? My son is home. I need to be with him.”

  “You should have thought about that before you decided to go to that warehouse last night and wreak havoc.”

  “So you agree with him? You believe I should be locked up?”

  “You shot a man.”

  “Aster Williams is not human.”

  “It’s not my decision to make. The judge will do as he sees fit. You know that.” Yuhasz waved a hand at her. “Look at yourself. You don’t look well. You haven’t taken care of yourself since the day your family was attacked.” He shook his head.

  She couldn’t tell if her appearance sickened him, or saddened him.

  “Surely you can talk to the judge, try to sway him somehow.”

  “You’ve gone too far,” he said. “I tried to work with you, but in my opinion, you’ve become as dangerous as the men you’re trying to stop. Five people died last night. Five. Two more are in critical condition. Does that mean anything to you? Anything at all?”

  “It makes me sick to my stomach. We lost Rage and two other good people yesterday. Others are fighting for their lives. I haven’t had a chance to mourn the death of my husband. A man I loved more than anything in this world. Once I find my daughter, I will allow myself to grieve for them all. But not before then.” She stood, her chest tight, her emotions in check. “I have twenty-four hours?”

  The detective looked baffled. “What?”

  “You said I had twenty-four hours before the judge will be making a decision. Is that right?”

  She watched Yuhasz rub his hands over his prickly head of hair, his frustration obvious. “And what will you be doing in the next twenty-four hours?”

  “Looking for Lara—what do you think?”

  “What information are you hiding from me now?”

  “I have the same information as you, Detective.” She paused before asking, “Any word about Aster Williams?”

  “Despite being shot multiple times, he’s alive, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said before clasping her hand around the door handle.

  “Beth Tanner was attacked last night,” he told her.

  “No.” Looking back at the detective, she touched her throat, unable to believe what he was telling her.

  “A grisly crime scene, one of the bloodiest I’ve ever seen.”

  “Did you catch her attacker?”

  “He’s in the morgue, along with the neighbor, who had the incredibly bad timing to pick that moment to bring her donuts from his bakery.”

  “Mr. Hawkins is dead?”

  He nodded. “Beth Tanner is at Sutter General in Roseville.”

  It took Faith a second for his words to sink in. “She’s alive?”

  “Last I heard she was still hanging on. She’s a fighter. Killed her attacker with a three-pronged turning fork. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “She’s a gun expert,” Faith said quietly. “I would have thought she shot him.”

  “From the looks of it, he caught her off guard.”

  “Thank God she’s alive.”

  “She was lucky,” Yuhasz said. “Same goes for you and your family. One of the reasons I won’t be upset if the judge sees fit to have you locked up again is because I have a feeling it might be the only way to keep you safe.”

  Faith stood quietly for a moment. So much had happened over the past few months, and yet they’d hardly scraped the surface. People were dying, and yet Lara still wasn’t home. Her knees wobbled, but she refused to show any weakness at a time when she needed to be stronger than ever. Without another word spoken, she walked out of his office, taking the famil
iar path past O’Sullivan’s desk, down a set of wide steps, and through double doors leading to the parking lot.

  The moment she stepped outside, she bent forward, her right hand propped on her knee while she tried to suck air into her lungs. She wasn’t afraid of these maniacs. They were scum. But keeping Hudson safe while doing everything she could to find Lara was wearing on her, making her question her strength and emotional toughness.

  Upon hearing the door open and close behind her, she thought of Corrie Perelman’s determination to find her own daughter. And what about Miranda? The girl had been forced into a life of sex slavery, struggling for much too long before escaping her own personal hell. And then there was Rage. Abandoned by those who were supposed to love her most, Rage had not only found the strength to give her son the best opportunity for a decent life; she’d fought valiantly every day to make a difference and to carry on.

  Faith stood tall again, her head held high as she made her way to her car. She refused to break. “You will not win,” she said aloud. “You will not win.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Beast was still sitting in Rage’s room when his cell rang. He picked up and said hello.

  “It’s me,” Faith said. “I had to talk to someone. Are you busy?”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  “My neighbor Beth Tanner, the ER nurse—”

  “I know who she is,” he said. “What about her?”

  “She and another neighbor of mine, Mr. Hawkins, were attacked at Beth’s home last night. Mr. Hawkins was killed. And so was the attacker. Beth is in the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “On my way to see Detective Yuhasz,” she said, talking quickly, “a man driving a green Nissan tried to drive me off the road.”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “I didn’t recognize his face from our list of names, but I could probably pick him out of a lineup.”

  “What happened?”

  “I drove him off the road instead.”

  Beast rubbed his jaw. “Did you get a license plate number?”