Silence. His face was immobile, showed no emotion.
I hated him for it. Needed him to react, to say something. ‘Tell me!’
Nothing.
Fight. I grabbed the wheel.
‘Jesus! Lori, what the hell?’
He braked hard. The vehicle skidded on gravel at the side of the highway. Halted.
Shoving the gear into park, JT turned to face me. His expression wasn’t neutral anymore. ‘You need to get a—’
I punched his arm, his chest, his thigh; any bit of him that I could reach, the clinical rules of hand-to-hand forgotten in my fury. Tried anything, everything, to make him care, or at least act as if he did.
JT didn’t defend himself, didn’t even try to block me. That only made me madder. I lashed out harder. Still he didn’t react. I slapped his face, watched his cheek flush red from the impact of my palm. Raised my hand again.
Finally he put his hands up to block me. ‘Lori, stop.’
I stopped. Knew that I’d lost it. Control. Focus. All gone. Turning away from him, I stared at the dream-catcher. In my mind’s eye I saw Dakota, those last moments: The car pulling away. Her hands clawing at the window. Tears down her face. Blue eyes wide. Gone.
My fault. I stifled a sob.
‘You done?’ JT’s voice sounded husky, gentle.
I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Kept staring at the dream-catcher. Wondered if it caught broken ones.
‘They’ll contact us. They want me, not her.’
I turned to face him. Said quietly, ‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve got something their boss wants.’
‘So why take my daughter?’
JT shook his head.
Son-of-a-bitch. He knew damn well, just as I did. They’d taken Dakota as a bargaining chip, a threat, or both. They took her because there was a game in play and they wanted to win. Well, it wasn’t a game that I wanted any part of.
I pulled my cell phone and its charger from my pocket, stuck the charger into the cigarette lighter and plugged in the cell. ‘I’m calling the police. They—’
JT yanked the charger out of the socket. ‘No cops.’
‘What the hell?’ I slapped his hands away, shoved the charger back into place and kept one hand on the cord, blocking JT. The cell beeped. I was thankful it still worked. I glanced at the cracked screen: four text messages, nine voicemails. All the same number: Quinn.
‘Lori, listen. You do not want the cops involved. These people…’ He shook his head. ‘They’ve already manipulated the police and the media into thinking I’ve committed multiple homicide. My fingerprints and DNA, yours too, will be all over that crime scene. They want to flush me out and shut me up – you as well if you’re in their way, and from what just went down at the gas station they’ll assume that you are. We can’t know if they’ve got the cops round here in their pockets. And anyway, after the ranch and the gas station, the cops will shoot first and ask questions later.’
He sounded so calm, so clinical. I felt my cheeks flush. ‘So I let them take her? That’s your big idea on how I keep her safe? Jesus. I’m so glad you’re not a parent.’
‘I don’t like it any more than—’
‘Really? Because from where I’m sitting it seems you don’t give a rat’s ass.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not—’
‘So tell me who has my daughter and why the hell they’re after you.’
He was silent for a long moment, then nodded. ‘They work for a man called Randall Emerson.’
I’d heard that name before, from Quinn. Emerson was the name of the guy JT had threatened at the amusement park he’d been arrested in. ‘The owner of Winter Wonderland?’
‘Yeah. That and a bunch of other parks.’
I frowned. ‘So what does he want with you? I’m taking you back for the summary judgement. I don’t need any damn help. And why the hell would they take my daughter?’
‘The parks are a front. Emerson isn’t the model citizen everyone thinks he is.’ JT turned to look at me. ‘He has a thing for kids.’
My throat tightened. I tasted a bitter tang against my tongue. Spat out the words. ‘A thing?’
JT nodded. ‘And he’s not the only one. He has a sideline, using the parks as a base. Beneath all the glitter there’s some sick shit going on. I’ve dug into it. I’m close to blowing the whole thing wide open, exposing Emerson and the stuff he’s been—’
‘And this man has my daughter?’
‘His men do.’
Enough. Whatever JT had going on, I could not get any deeper into it. I had to get Dakota back. Nothing else mattered. ‘We’re done here. I’m calling the cops.’
I pretended not to notice the hurt flicker across JT’s face. Reaching for my cell, I began to dial.
‘Please, Lori. Don’t.’ He leant closer, his cuffed hands resting on the edge of my seat. ‘I’m so close, I need to finish this.’
I shook my head. ‘I just can’t.’
The cell phone beeped. A text. Not from Quinn. A different number, one I didn’t know. I opened the message.
It felt like the breath had been knocked clean out of me. ‘Oh Jesus. Shit.’
JT moved closer, trying to get a look at the screen. ‘Lori? What is it? Talk to me.’
Dakota must have given them my number. The photo was blurred, but it was definitely my daughter: a child with strawberry-blonde braids, one half unravelled, wearing a purple Miranda Lambert tee. She was sitting on the back seat of a car. There was duct tape around her arms, her body, her mouth. Terror in her eyes.
I forced myself to read the words: TELL TATE TO GIVE US THE DEVICE. NO COPS OR THE GIRL DIES. WAIT FOR INSTRUCTIONS.
19
I stared at the screen. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
‘Lori, what the—’
‘They’ve … they’ve…’ I couldn’t finish the sentence. Held the cell phone out to JT. Knew my hands were shaking.
Gently, he prised the phone from my fingers. Exhaled real sharp, cussing under his breath.
I clung on to the seat, dug my nails into the fabric. Tried to breathe. Tried not to cry. Just about managed both. I had to act. Snatching the cell from JT, I selected the unfamiliar number. Pressed call.
JT grabbed for the handset. ‘Lori, don’t. We should talk about this.’
‘There’s no time.’ I pushed his hands away. Heard the number dial. Waited for the call to connect.
It took too long. There was no ringtone. I held my breath, listened harder. My pulse, punching at my temples, seemed loud as thunder. Then I heard it; a flat, continuous drone.
I flung the cell back at JT. ‘How the hell can it be unobtainable? They only just sent the text.’
He frowned. ‘They’ll have ditched it. It’s a pre-pay, no doubt. These people are smart.’
And they had Dakota.
I stared through the grubby windshield at the highway. It was empty. Just us. I thought about the message. No cops, they’d said. Wait for instructions. Tell Tate to give us the device. The photo of my baby bound in duct tape. I felt the fury burning in my chest. ‘This doesn’t change anything, I’m calling the cops.’
He put his hands on mine. ‘Lori, you read the message. We have to keep this away from the cops. It’s the only way to keep Dakota safe.’
I shook my head. ‘Kidnappers always say that, but there’s a better chance of catching them if—’
‘Not true this time. Emerson is too well connected. You need to believe me. I’ve been digging into what’s been going on in those parks. The people involved, they’re powerful. You can’t trust the cops, but you can trust me. I’ll get her back.’
I didn’t answer. Didn’t know if I could believe him. ‘If you want me to pin my child’s life to your word, tell me what the hell is going on. Everything.’
I let the silence hang between us. Waiting.
He sighed. ‘Okay. A few days after I’d been arrested at Winter Wonderland a man called Scott Palm
er contacted me. He told me he managed the surveillance at the park, watched the CCTV, and analysed what went on. He’d seen what happened between me and Emerson, and he knew the charges were bullshit. He said he could help me.’
‘How?’
‘He could get me proof of what Emerson was doing. Scott’s one of those conspiracy nuts. He’s a smart guy – book-smart, not practical. And in that job, bored. He discovered the pattern.’
‘What pattern?’
‘Kids go missing all the time in amusement parks. They get overexcited, run about, get lost in the crowd and separated from their families. The parks have teams of people whose sole job is to find lost kids and reunite them with their folks.’
‘And this is relevant to getting my daughter back, how?’
‘Because the pattern showed that each time a specific set of CCTV cameras went offline at Winter Wonderland, a child went missing.’
‘But you said that happened all the time.’
‘It does. But these occasions were different. These kids weren’t found fast. They were missing for near on ninety minutes, every time.’
I frowned. ‘How the hell could he—’
‘Scott went through all the missing-child reports filed with park security around the times that the cameras had been turned off. The dates and times matched. A child – usually a girl aged between eight and ten, always visiting the park as part of a large family group or organised trip – went missing. It wasn’t usually spotted right away. It wasn’t an accident either.’
I tasted bile at the back of my throat. Fought the urge to gag. ‘They’d been taken?’
JT nodded. ‘That’s what Scott thought he could prove.’
They took children. Girls like Dakota. I tried to process the information, struggled to keep focused. ‘So why weren’t the cops called?’
‘Scott figured it was due to the timing. As soon as park security had been called the search team would go into operation. The kid’s family would be taken someplace calming, be told about all the measures in place to find their child, that the gates had been notified, that there was no way the kid would stay lost. They’d be told no kid stayed missing, ever. They’d tell them that it’d take a little over ninety minutes to search the park, and if that failed, the cops would come. But it never got to that. The park team always found the missing kids. So the families waited, or they joined the search. Either way, the cops never got involved.’
‘And on the occasions the cameras went offline the kids were found too?’
‘Always. Just before ninety minutes was up, they turned up someplace inside the park. And although the reports said they seemed dazed and unable to remember what they’d been doing – aside from how they’d been playing hide and seek or whatever, and had gotten lost – there were no other problems reported.’
Despite the heat of the day, I shivered. ‘Shit, no memory, how the hell did they do that, drugs?’
JT twisted around in his seat, reaching for a bottle of water in the carryall on the back seat. With the cuffs on he couldn’t stretch far enough. I didn’t comment, just turned and pulled the bottle from the bag, opened it and passed it to him. He took a swig. Grimaced as he swallowed, like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
‘That’s what I figured. Something short term and fast acting, with little or no residue. Most likely Rohypnol or Midazolam. Both cause memory loss and make the person highly suggestible.’
I thought of Dakota, held captive by these people. Felt my chest tighten. ‘But, shit, weren’t the parents suspicious?’
JT shook his head. ‘Seems not, or if they were, then the park persuaded them otherwise. They were so relieved, so grateful that they’d gotten their kid back safe and seemingly unharmed, no complaints were ever filed.’
I guess I could understand that – the relief they’d have felt. ‘But, still, wouldn’t they ask some questions?’
‘Not the ones they should’ve, and if they did, their concerns were explained away. Emerson’s people are very plausible, they come across as real caring. They’re smart too, varying the pattern, changing up regularly, making it near on impossible for an outsider to spot what’s really going on. Plus they’re super careful: these things didn’t happen close together, and never on the same day of the week or time of day. Scott believed they’re working across all five parks, the infrequency in any one location keeping them undetected.’
‘Until now.’
‘Yep.’
I knew the question I had to ask. Didn’t want to know the answer. ‘These kids, were they molested?’
JT’s jaw clenched. He closed his eyes a moment, then nodded. ‘That was Scott’s assumption. It made him angry, which made him get stupid. He started taking bigger risks, determined to get hard proof. He’d figured out where they were taking the kids – some empty rooms in a storage facility away from the public section of the park. They kept all sorts of gear there: old parade floats, character props and the like. Well, Scott set up some secret cameras there, tiny things that were motion activated. The next time he got an instruction to take the cameras offline he kept them running. He got his proof.’
I felt sick. Dizzy. I tried to ignore it. Stay focused. ‘Tell me.’
JT shook his head. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’
From the look of anguish in his eyes I knew it must be bad. Whatever it was, he didn’t like thinking on it, and he sure didn’t want to tell me. I got that, but I had to push him anyways. I had to know who these people were who had my daughter, and what they were capable of doing. ‘Trust me, I do.’
He took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out. I passed him the lighter. He lit up, inhaled deeply, closed his eyes a moment, and exhaled. Didn’t look at me, kept staring right ahead. ‘The kids were being taken to order. Emerson was caught on the secret cameras talking to his clients, asking them what type of child they wanted. Seemed they’d find a child that matched the client’s wish-list, abduct them, and then the client would get a photo session with the kid, stripped naked … touched … but nothing that would leave any physical evidence.’ JT’s voice cracked. He took a long drag on the cigarette, like he needed it to help him keep talking. ‘Scott recorded all of it.’
My heartbeat raced. I felt sick, faint. ‘And they’ve got my daughter? Fuck. What the hell will they do to her? Dakota’s nine. She can’t…’
JT clenched his jaw. His expression tough, like barbed wire and rawhide. ‘We’ll get her back.’
But, shit, after what? Having been cold, I was now hot, panicky, I couldn’t breathe. ‘How? We don’t know where she is, and if the cops are in Emerson’s pocket, then how the hell can we—’
‘Lori, listen to me. They need her. As long as she’s bait for us, they won’t do her any harm.’
I stared at JT. He looked real earnest. I hoped to hell and back that he was right, wanted so much to believe him. Tried not to think on the alternative. Couldn’t.
‘The device they’re talking about holds all the evidence Scott had gotten: the secret camera feeds, the CCTV footage, the security reports, and the list of people he thought were involved.’
No wonder Emerson wanted it so bad. ‘Where is it?’
JT sighed. ‘Scott figured the same set-up was happening in the other parks Emerson owns – GatorWorld in Florida, Mountain Mystery Frontier in Virginia, and a couple more in the Carolinas. He was right, found that the same camera maintenance shutdowns happened in all the parks. He persuaded the CCTV guy at Mountain Mystery Frontier to leave the cameras running and record the footage. He did, but Scott didn’t want him to email the files, said it wasn’t secure. That’s why I went to Virginia, I was meant to collect them.’
‘Meant to?’
JT took a last drag on his cigarette, flicked the butt out of the window. ‘The guy was gone, but there was a bunch of thugs waiting for me. We’d been played, or they’d beat the guy until he talked. Either way, Emerson was on to us and he knew Scott had saved evidence on to
a portable hard drive. I had to fight my way out. As soon as I was clear I called Scott. He panicked. Said he’d stashed the device in a safe place but he couldn’t go back for it now. He was crying, terrified. I told him to go to my cabin and wait. That he’d be safe there. That I’d help him.’
‘So where’s the device?’
JT shook his head. ‘I don’t know, but Scott does. We need to go to the cabin.’
‘Then what?’
‘We’ll get the device, and we’ll find Dakota.’
Not sitting here we wouldn’t. We had to move, drive to JT’s cabin in Georgia, get Scott and fetch the device. I looked at JT. ‘Get out. I’m driving.’
He frowned. ‘You think you’re—?’
I didn’t listen to the rest. Pushing open my door, I leapt out and ran around to the driver’s side. Yanked his door open. ‘I said get out.’
This time he didn’t argue.
20
I put the car into drive and pulled back on to the highway. Out the corner of my eye I could see JT watching me, staring. I ignored him. Kept my eyes on the road.
Back when I’d taken on this job, Quinn had told me JT had been arrested disturbing the peace at the Winter Wonderland amusement park. That it was nothing serious, just a minor disagreement. I’d had my doubts, and now I knew they were justified. The JT I’d known had always done things for a reason. ‘You never told me what took you to Emerson and Winter Wonderland in the first place?’
‘Something personal.’ JT’s expression didn’t change, but his tone told me to back off.
I stared straight ahead, my gaze fixed on the highway. Kept my fingers tight on the wheel, trying to disguise the fact that they were trembling. The road snaked into a series of razor-sharp bends. I didn’t ease off the gas. Coaxed the Chevy through the twists, the tyres squealing in protest.
I knew JT was waiting for me to change the topic, to let it go. I wanted to, surely I did. But even though I’d decided not to call the cops, the one question repeating in my mind, over and over, would not go away: Can I trust him with Dakota’s life?
Deep Down Dead Page 12
