The man in the trailer slammed the door shut.
“Buford! What the hell was that?”
Cody tried to shake off her hand, but she held firm. “They took her in retribution for me helping you. Maybe if they take me instead, they’ll be satisfied.”
Sanderson shook her head. “If that’s what they wanted, they could have come after you while you were still in Houston. They want to hurt you by hurting her. You going in there will only give them what they want, up close and personal.”
“They’d still have to take us to the big boss. They still have to get out of here. I don’t care if this guy is just a minion, he’s got to be looking out for number one right now. If he thinks giving up the kids is his best chance to get out of here, he’ll do it.”
“No way. He’ll just have another hostage.”
It was a moment before they noticed Mr. Thomas waving to get their attention. They crouched down to his level. “Buford’s got an earbud, right?”
“The guy will surely take it away from him,” Sanderson said. “It’s discreet, but not invisible.”
“Reckon he won’t be looking at his ears. He’ll be looking for a mic somewhere on his body. The room is dark.”
Cody thought about the clear wire running from the earpiece to the back of his neck where the flat, cutting-edge receiver “patch” had been affixed to the collar of his shirt. It would be a miracle if no one noticed it, but if having it meant Sanderson would let him go inside, he wasn’t going to voice his opinion on the matter.
“What are you suggesting?”
Mr. Thomas cut his gaze to Cody, but spoke to Sanderson. “Let him go in there. It could buy us some time. If we have an opportunity to make a move, we can warn him and he can protect Kylie.”
“If they don’t shoot him on sight.”
“You said yourself they want him to suffer, want him to see what they’re going to do to her. At the very least, it puts another good guy inside.”
“Puts another good guy at risk,” Sanderson objected, although she seemed to be wavering. “We don’t even know how many bad guys are in there.”
“Two.” Both Sanderson and Cody looked at Mr. Thomas in surprise. “I followed tracks of a man and a woman up to this trailer. The tracks were muddled back at the ditch. It looked like the kids split off in a different direction back there, but I didn’t know for sure until their tracks came up here from over that way.” He waved off to the west. “I figure they’d gotten away at some point, but ended up looking for help in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Before Cody could ask why he hadn’t mentioned the other sign back at the wash, the door cracked open again, and he and Sanderson stood up. “We’ll take you up on that helicopter, Buford. And you as a hostage.”
“How do we know the girl is still alive?” Sanderson asked while she fumbled with something in the cargo pocket of her vest. The last few bushes mostly screened their bodies from the door, and Cody didn’t think the man in the trailer would be able to see what she was doing.
“You heard her just a second ago,” the man said, sounding irritated.
“My number is in your phone, right?” she quietly asked Cody.
“Of course.”
“Good. Tell him you need it to get updates on the chopper. Take this and tuck it inside your shirt.” She thrust a short length of wire at him. Surprised, he took it and did as she said. “If he thinks that’s your wire, he won’t look for your earbud.”
“I’m waiting!” The man was getting impatient at their delay.
“I’m coming in,” Cody called, turning toward the door.
“You send the kids out one at a time,” Sanderson called a second later, although they all knew they’d be lucky if they got just one out at this point.
Silence greeted that demand and the door closed again, but Cody forced himself to walk clear of the sagebrush, heading for the porch. Conscious of Mr. Thomas’ line of fire, he stayed well to the right to give the man a clear shot if one arose. He didn’t know exactly where the other sniper was positioned, and had to trust he was staying out of his way, too.
When he was within a foot of the steps, the door cracked open again, then swung wide as a young girl was thrust outside. In the filtered light from the halide bulb perched above the trailer, Cody almost thought it was Kylie, but realized the girl was younger and a redhead. She stumbled down the stairs and into Cody’s arms.
He shuffled her behind him and spoke over his shoulder. “Just go straight out. FBI Agent Sanderson will find you.”
She didn’t do more than squeak, but he heard a rustle of feet in the dirt as she moved away from him.
Remembering the corpse by the burned cop car, Cody wondered who he would find inside. He’d heard Kylie’s voice, but was the other hostage Jax or some other luckless girl? He put a hand on the rail of the small porch and his foot on the first riser.
The door to the trailer was still open, but the interior was pitch dark. He couldn’t see a thing, so he doubted anyone else outside could.
“Where’s my daughter?” he said when he reached the top step. One more step and he would be on the threshold. He knew he was already blocking both snipers’ view.
“I’m here, Dad,” Kylie said, her voice coming from straight in front of him.
Terror for Kylie rooted him to the spot. He was afraid for his own life, but he would readily die if it meant she would be free. No, his fear was more about dying without freeing Kylie.
“You said you’d take me,” Cody said. “Let her go.”
⋘⋆⋙
Callie caught the girl running toward her, swung her around, and put her own armored body between her and the door.
“Easy,” she said. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
The girl’s legs turned to jelly and she collapsed with a sound that was half sob, half wail. Callie was ready for it and eased her to the ground. Her trajectory had taken her past the dead girl, and Callie knew she’d seen her.
Still holding the traumatized girl with one arm, she put her finger up and keyed the mic on the radio. “Chen, we need someone to collect the dead girl. I think they’ll let us do that as soon as Buford is inside.”
“Her name was Danica,” the girl sobbed.
Callie could tell she was trying to pull herself together. She patted her shoulder, then turned to look at the trailer. Cody was gone and the door was closed. At least they got one out.
“Think you can walk?” she asked the girl. “Just a little ways. We need to get into the dark where he can’t see us, then I need you to tell me what it looks like inside that trailer.”
The girl choked back another sob and tried to climb to her feet. Callie placed one arm over her shoulders so she could support her, and they moved as quickly as possible back to where Jonas was stationed a few yards behind Mr. Thomas.
The old vet hadn’t moved. He lay prone in the dirt, as calm and deadly as a rattlesnake coiled in the grass, his rifle never wavering from the door of the trailer.
Sheriff Jonas pulled a thermal blanket out of his first aid kit as they approached, opened it, and wrapped the girl in it. He then gestured to the dark triangle of a three-legged camp stool he’d set up for her. The man was a true boy scout, always prepared to take care of people.
Callie helped the girl sit. “My name is Agent Calliope Sanderson. I’m with the FBI. You can call me Callie. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“V-Vera,” she said, and hiccupped. “Miss Callie, you’ve got to help Kylie and Jax. That man.... He’s scary. He keeps killing people. They were taking us to Mexico, then he killed that cop. Jax stole the RV when they were dealing with the cop’s body, but he wrecked it, then we ran through the desert. We hid, but when we came here to find a phone, they were already here. He killed a man inside. I think it was the owner of the trailer. I was so scared....”
Callie let the girl talk in a rush until she ran out of words. When she finally sputtered to a stop, Callie put her hand on her shou
lder. “You’re safe now, Vera. We’re going to get you home. But I need your help first.”
“M-my help?”
“Yes. Vera, I need you to tell me everything about what’s inside that trailer. How many bad people are there? What do the rooms look like? Where are Kylie and Jax?”
Vera took a shuddering breath, and Callie was pleased to see her gathering herself again. “There’s a man and a woman. I think the woman is almost as afraid of the man as we are, although I thought she was the boss. Now she just does everything he says.”
Callie filed that away as a useful tidbit. It sounded like the woman was in charge until the man, the “muscle” of the operation, started acting on his own. If he was calling the shots now, the situation was more critical than she’d expected.
“Thank you, Vera. That’s very important information. I’m glad you told me. What about Kylie and Jax? Have they been hurt?”
“Kylie’s fine. She’s really brave. Jax hit his head in the wreck and he’s got a concussion. Plus, he has a bullet wound in his side. Kylie said it was a graze, but he bled a lot.” She swallowed, and Jonas held out a bottle of water, which she took gratefully, gulping down half of it before she continued.
“When they let me go, Kylie was tied to a chair in the kitchen, and Jax was on the floor near her feet. I think he was unconscious ’cause the man kicked him and he didn’t move, but he’s tied up, too.”
“Can you draw me a picture of what the rooms look like?” Callie asked, holding out a notepad and pen she’d pulled from her vest pocket. “Just go from what you see right when you walk in the door.”
“I can try.” The girl spoke as she drew a shaky picture. “On the right, there’s the big window with nothing in front of it. Then there’s a wall here with a couch. That’s where I was. Then the wall comes back this way, and that’s where Jax is. Kylie is in the opening between the front room and the kitchen, which backs this wall. I don’t really know what’s back there. I just caught a glimpse of some cupboards.”
“What’s over here?” Callie indicated the area to the left of the front door.
“There’s a hallway. It goes off kind of in the middle of the room, like there might be rooms off each side of it. As far as I know, nobody’s gone down there. At least not since we got here.”
“That’s very good, Vera. You’ve been a great help,” Callie said, passing the notepad to Jonas. He took it, made a couple marks, then crept forward to Mr. Thomas’ position to show him. He would want to know where his granddaughter was in relation to the door.
When Jonas returned to comfort the girl, Callie stood and glanced at the trailer again, wondering what was going on inside. She had expected Cody to call with the kidnapper’s demands by now.
She decided to give Ducharme a heads-up and changed the channel on her tactical radio before keying her mic. “Ducharme?”
There was a slight delay, then the pilot came back. “Go ahead.”
“What’s your status?”
“Still waiting for the team with the search dogs. They’ve been delayed in the traffic jam heading out of Roswell since the highway is still closed. I’m minding the helicopter and the command post.” All the other teams were searching outlying structures or warning residents, just in case Mr. Thomas hadn’t found the right trail away from the crash.
“We’re going to need your helicopter again,” Callie said. “We have a demand for an extraction. Two perps and their hostages.”
There was another delay as Ducharme no doubt tried to deduce her meaning. She knew his chopper only carried two, and the pilot was one of the two. He needed to realize it was a ruse. She’d rather not spell it out on the off chance someone else was listening.
Luckily, he was a smart cookie. “What do you need me to do?”
Chapter Fifteen
Maria waited while Buford paused on the threshold, silhouetted in the open doorway. When Alan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside, she darted forward and slammed the door, expecting bullets to start flying at any moment. When they didn’t, she let out a shaky breath and turned around.
The only light in the trailer came from a nightlight near the kitchen, which she uncovered now that the door was closed. Its placement had the effect of spotlighting the girl in the chair, and she could see the newest arrival staring at his daughter as Alan searched him.
The pat-down produced a cell phone, folding knife, and a short wire with small knobby protrusions on each end.
“What one earth is that?” she asked when Alan handed it to her.
“Wire, I’m thinking.”
“Tech’s getting sophisticated. I’ve never seen such a tiny battery.” She dropped it to the floor and crushed it beneath her heel.
Alan took Buford’s hat off and felt inside the hatband and around the inside before tossing it across the room like a Frisbee.
“It wasn’t hidden very well,” Alan commented.
Buford’s shrug was a poorly executed attempt at nonchalance. “We didn’t have much time. I wasn’t supposed to volunteer for this.”
Alan punched him in the stomach, making the man double over with a wheeze. The girl cried out a wordless protest.
“Did I ask you a question?” Alan asked. “Did I say you could speak?”
Buford wisely kept his mouth shut as Alan used some more of the paracord to bind his wrists behind his back. Then with a well-placed kick to the back of the knees, he dropped Buford to the floor. Only Alan’s grasp on his elbow kept him from sprawling.
“So,” Alan said. “What’s this about a helicopter?”
“It’s the one we used for the search,” Buford said. “It’s out on the highway, by the RV.”
“I saw it in the distance. It looked small.”
“It’ll hold three passengers, plus the pilot.”
“Too bad there are five of us,” Alan said, “counting you. Means more bodies before this is done.”
Maria startled at Alan’s words. She wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t just drop her and take Buford and his daughter as hostages. If he could manage them both, that is. Regardless, she had no idea what he was capable of doing next.
“Leave the kids,” Buford said. “Take me in—”
Alan grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed Buford’s face into his upraised knee. When his head came back up, blood streamed from his nose, visible as black tracks down his face in the darkened room.
“What did I say about talking out of turn?”
Nobody spoke, but Kylie stifled a sob.
“Good. Now, I assume you’ve got a number in your phone for the agent in charge?”
Buford nodded.
The glow of a cell phone illuminated Alan’s face as he activated it and swiped his finger across the screen, then growled. “What’s your password?”
Buford’s muffled voice revealed the distinct sound of someone with a plugged—or broken—nose. “It’s my fingerprint. Left forefinger.”
Maria jumped back as Alan pushed him to the floor, face-first. Without a free hand to catch himself, Buford landed heavily and grunted in pain. She saw Alan pull his hands up and fumble around for a moment, then he let go and stood up straight.
“Oh, look,” Alan said. “Text messages from Mommy. She wants an update on her daughter.” With a sick chortle, Alan took a step back, then a surprising flash filled the room, making everyone gasp in pain as the light abused their dark-sensitive eyes. “Gotta love technology.”
As he apparently sent the picture he’d taken off to the girl’s mother, Maria decided she ought to at least try to bring Alan under some kind of control. He was really losing it.
“Cut it out!” she said, her voice as sharp as she could make it. Alan glared at her, and she put her hands on her hips, exasperation warring with her fear. “We need to focus on getting out of here, not take...selfies with the merchandise.”
Alan turned back to the phone, and she could see the scowl twisting his features. His fingers passed busily over the
screen for a few moments more, then he nudged Buford with his foot and laughed. “She’s freaked out, man.”
“You are one sick psychopath,” Kylie said, her voice ringing with disdain. “Have you no compassion?”
Her outburst had an immediate effect on Alan. He took two long strides over to her and pulled her hair back to make her look up at him. Maria saw her jaw clenched in an effort not to react.
“You think you’re a shrink now?” he said, mere inches from her face. “I’m worse than a psychopath, girl. I’m a psychopath with sociopathic tendencies. My mommy didn’t breastfeed me long enough, and my daddy never beat me when I was bad.”
His sarcasm wasn’t lost on anyone in the room and, satisfied the girl felt foolish for her armchair psychology, he let go of her hair and turned back around to kick her father in the head. Buford was able to roll to the side enough so that the boot glanced off his cheek, but Maria was sure that blow had rung his bell.
“Anyone else want to talk out of turn?” No one spoke, and Alan turned back to the phone. After a swipe at the screen, he snarled, then bent to pull on Buford’s arms. Apparently, the phone had locked again.
Moments later, he put the phone to his ear. In the silence, Maria could clearly hear ringing as he placed his call.
⋘⋆⋙
When Janie’s phone chimed with an incoming text, the last thing she expected to see was a picture sent from Cody’s phone. It was a dark shot, the flash going off in a very dark room, so it took a moment for her to recognize what she was looking at. When she finally did, she dropped her phone on the table with a cry of dismay, making everyone in the café turn toward her.
“What is it?” Tim asked, squeezing her shoulders. He hadn’t left her side all day.
“It’s Kylie.”
“Is she safe?” Momma asked, rushing over to grab her phone. Her face paled as she took in the photo. “Oh, dear Lord.”
Kylie was in a chair, and lying on the floor in front of her was a man wearing the same shirt Cody had worn earlier in the day, his hands behind his back. To her left lay a body that looked like Jax, and a third body lay crumpled under a table behind Kylie.
One Last Song (A Thomas Family Novel Book 3) Page 11
