Child With No Name

by Franklin Horton

  In response, Shelby raised the stump of his left arm into the air, hoping it would distract the deputy just enough. As soon as it was up, Shelby whipped the .45 around and fired as fast as he could pull the trigger. Glass shattered and the deputy screamed, falling backward and dropping his rifle. Shelby kept firing until the gun was empty, a grin on his face.

  The driver was out now and recovering from the shock of seeing his partner dropped. He didn't waste his breath on orders, firing his shotgun at Shelby over top of his door. The load of buckshot ripped into Shelby's welding jacket, spinning him sideways and knocking him to the ground.

  Shelby had no interest in surviving only to spend the rest of his life in prison. As he heard the deputy racking the pump on his shotgun, Shelby raised the empty .45 automatic and pointed it at the deputy. Seeing a gun pointed in his direction, the deputy fired again and Shelby's world went dark for the last time.

  50

  Abingdon, Virginia

  A thoroughly chastised Ty Stone woke in his bed after a night of troubled sleep. He hadn't been plagued with nightmares or pulled into some dark hole of depression, but did spend a lot of time in self-analysis. If he wasn't cut out for the military, wasn't cut out for civilian life, and wasn't cut out for DKI, what did that leave him?

  He had a breakfast of coffee and Gatorade, then suited up for his run. He wasn't even out of the house when his phone rang. He studied the screen before answering it. "Morning, Cliff. Did I fuck up something else while I was asleep?"

  "No, but shit broke loose in a serious fashion. I wanted to update you before you heard it anywhere else."

  Ty started pacing, his normal mode for engaging in a phone conversation. "What's up?"

  "Baxter handed off your tip to the local sheriff's department down there in North Carolina and they got a warrant based on that video. There were a lot of questions about how the camera ended up there, which we'll have to deal with later. Anyway, the cops found a camp of migrant workers, all undocumented, so ICE is on the scene processing them. They also found a building with trafficked individuals being held in cages. Dozens of them. They've called in the FBI and the US Marshal Service. Agent Baxter is on the scene too."

  "Have they asked for your help?"

  "That's part of why I'm calling, Ty. I just landed in Winston-Salem and I'm on my way to the scene now. I've got an aftercare team coming in from all over the country. Psychologists, social workers, and counselors who can help sort out this situation. No one's better at this than we are, not even the FBI."

  Ty's adrenaline was flowing, his mind racing. "I can be there in a couple of hours, Cliff."

  Cliff's voice was firm. "I don't need you here, Ty. This isn't an operation. Even if it was, your probationary status would limit your role. Besides, since you're the one who hid that camera down here, having you onsite would be questionable. There's no justification for you being here."

  "So I'm just supposed to sit on my hands?" Ty asked, aggression creeping into his voice.

  "That's exactly what you're supposed to do!" Cliff snapped. "Stay in your lane, Ty. I'm serious about this. If you show up here you won't be allowed on the site. Even beyond that, I'll consider your refusal to follow orders as grounds for dismissal. We'll terminate our contract with you, Ty. We clear?"

  "Crystal." Ty let out a long sigh. "Well, I'll let you go, man. I was heading out for a run."

  "One more thing, Ty."

  "What's that?"

  "They brought in cadaver dogs to search for the body of the woman killed in the video."

  "They find her?"

  "Yeah, but they also found the body of the pregnant woman you followed down here. Based on the medical equipment they found, it looks like they harvested the child and then put a bullet in the woman's head. The traffickers hadn't cleaned up the scene yet. The detectives are hoping that the medical equipment they left behind might give them a lead."

  "That's...horrible," Ty said, uncertain of what words were even appropriate for the magnitude of the crime.

  "What's horrible is that this infant is still out there. They haven't found it anywhere on the farm yet. An undocumented birth, a child with no name and no records, is gold to these people, Ty. They'll make a fortune off it and you can only imagine what the life of this child will be like."

  "I don't want to imagine that, Cliff."

  "Me neither, brother. I've got Kel working databases. The FBI is requesting phone records. Everything takes time."

  "Does the baby have that kind of time?"

  "I gotta go, Ty. We'll talk later."

  Ty's mind was a whirlwind and he knew the only way to settle the storm was to push himself. He strapped on his two phone cases, one with the phone and one with the compact .380 pistol, and headed out. He pushed hard from the beginning. Anytime the storm of thoughts started to consume him, he ran harder. He assumed that to anyone watching him, he didn't look like a jogger, he looked like a man on the run from something. The only problem was that Ty could never be fast enough to escape the source of his torture and frustration.

  It was his own mind. His own life.

  He was home in about ninety minutes, soaked in sweat, and feeling the run. His calves and quads burned. His knees felt a little weak, but that was probably from running with no food and no hydration. He took a Gatorade to the shower with him and used only cold water. If the morning was going to be a suffer-fest, he figured why stop at the run?

  After the shower, he poured a bowl of a goat-feed-looking cereal and ate as he processed the last twenty-four hours. He didn't want to compromise investigations and cause trouble for his friends, but the situation in North Carolina would not have been uncovered if not for him following his hunch. There had to be a compromise between acknowledging his gut feelings and behaving in an impulsive and reckless manner. He wasn't there yet, but he was trying.

  So what did he do now? His mind wandered to the woman he'd followed from the clinic. She'd been scrawny with bad teeth and crude tattoos. Her hair wasn't stylish and her clothes were cheap. He imagined she'd gone in there seeking help and they'd preyed on her. They sent her to a secluded location where they could do what they wanted to her. How did they lure her there? Drugs? Money? A roof over her head?

  Now the baby she'd carried was missing and the common link was the clinic. He needed to head over there and keep an eye on the place. This time it wasn't an impulsive decision. It wasn't a reaction to the couch trying to swallow him whole or demons rising out of the floor to torment him. It was a practical decision made with logic and forethought.

  It was a longshot that he'd see anything of consequence, but he could call it in if he did. Whatever happened, he wasn't going to do anything crazy this time. He'd hopefully learned his lesson.

  51

  Glade Spring, Virginia

  Ty was beginning to feel comfortable in the utility worker outfit. It was an easy look to pull off and allowed him to disappear in plain sight. Just as he'd done when he planted the camera earlier, he parked near the clinic and placed orange cones at the front and back of his truck. He got out occasionally and walked around like he was inspecting something important, then he'd get in his truck and sit for a while. He looked like thousands of other utility workers killing time sitting in a pickup truck.

  Occasionally he'd pick up a set of binoculars and discreetly scan the clinic. It was like business as usual. People would show up and go inside, others would exit the building and leave. Deciding that he was unhappy with his vantage point, Ty pitched his cones in the back and moved to a position where he could see the employee parking lot. He immediately noticed that the white Escalade was not there. He had to wonder if that was in any way related to the turn of events in North Carolina.

  As he watched, a black Mercedes convertible entered the parking lot and swung into a spot. Even before the top began to close, Ty had the binoculars to his eyes and saw a familiar face. It was the foreign man whom he'd seen in the trail camera videos. The man who'd stood by while a
woman was killed in front of him.

  Seeing this tangible link between the events in North Carolina and the clinic, Ty's rationality and calm decision-making went out the window. Despite everything he'd told himself about not making any more impulsive decisions, he dropped his truck into gear and pulled into the employee lot. So much for calling it in.

  Ty whipped in behind the Mercedes, positioning his truck as a visual barrier between the car and the clinic. The man was just getting out of his vehicle and shrugging on a white coat.

  A doctor, Ty thought, exiting the vehicle. The man is a doctor.

  Ty's passenger door was nearest to the doctor's vehicle so Ty had to walk around the vehicle to speak with the man. He held his clipboard in his hands, looking like someone struggling to find an address. "Hey buddy, is this the address for this building?" He held the clipboard out for the doctor to see.

  The doctor looked miffed at being bothered but stepped forward to glance at the clipboard. When he was within reach, Ty snatched him by the lapels, spun, and slammed him against the side of his truck. Before the doctor could utter a word, Ty delivered a devastating elbow strike to the side of his chin. The doctor staggered and went limp.

  Ty threw open the passenger door of his truck and shoved the doctor inside. Despite his surging adrenaline, he did his best to walk casually around the truck just in case any of the clinic staff noticed him. He climbed inside and drove from the parking lot without rushing. From the floorboard of the passenger side, the doctor mumbled and tried to sit up. Ty gripped him with a powerful arm and dragged him up into the seat.

  The doctor raised his hands, trying to grab at Ty's wrist.

  "Don't you fucking touch me!" Ty snarled. When the doctor didn't respect his wishes, Ty yanked his hand away, balled his fist, and delivered a hammer first to the doctor's face.

  The doctor cried out and clutched his shattered cheekbone with both hands. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

  Ty didn't know where to go. This wasn't his community and he wasn't familiar with the streets. He wanted to find a place where he could get a few private minutes with the doctor and ask him some questions. His eyes flitted around, searching for side streets or vacant lots but he couldn't see anything. Then he caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head. The doctor had his phone in hand, trying to make a call.

  Ty snatched the phone from his hand and pitched it out his open window with no regard for what forensic evidence it might contain. The thought did cross his mind a split-second later, but there was no fixing it now. He passed a sign for a new subdivision under construction and whipped his truck onto the gravel road. It slewed sideways until he corrected it.

  "Where are we going?" the doctor asked, his voice a keening whine.

  "We're going to find a nice place we can talk in private."

  The subdivision was mostly wooded with only a few cleared lots and one home under construction. Ty pulled into one of the wooded lots, the road no more than two-tracks of compressed weeds leading onto the property. He stopped the truck, extracted the keys from the ignition, and strode around to the passenger side.

  Seeing Ty's determination, his seething anger, the doctor tried to sit up and lock the door, but it was no good. He wasn't fast enough. Ty yanked him out onto the ground and subdued him with a kick to the ribs. Ty drew his Glock, crouched, and stuck it to the doctor's forehead. The cold ring of the barrel pressed into his skin.

  "I don't have time to fuck around with you, doctor. The reason we're having this little conversation is that I recognize you from a video I watched yesterday. You were at a camper on a farm in North Carolina."

  The doctor's eyes grew wide, then squeezed shut again. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

  "You're a liar!" Ty barked. "You were standing beside a pregnant woman who was a patient at your clinic. You watched another woman get stabbed to death and you didn't raise a hand to stop it. Now I hear that the pregnant woman turned up dead and her baby is missing. Do you understand now why we're having this conversation?"

  The doctor's eyes crept open again and Ty saw a greater fear there now. This wasn't the fear of a man afraid he was being abducted and robbed. This was the fear of a man whose entire world was crumbling.

  "Who are you?"

  "I guess you already figured out I'm not a cop," Ty said. "That should be your biggest concern right now. I'm not restrained by policy. I don't have to follow the law. I can do any fucking thing I want to do. Now tell me where that baby is."

  The doctor's head shook rapidly, almost trembling. "I don't know anything about a baby."

  Ty took a moment to breathe. All of the techniques he'd learned over the years for inflicting pain and extracting information raced through his head, but he couldn't do it that way. He'd done it in Arizona but the circumstances were different. They'd taken him prisoner.

  Here he had nothing to hide behind. He needed to consider his future. His options for moving forward were limited and the decisions he made in the heat of the moment, the decisions he made right now, might obliterate whatever options he had remaining.

  The doctor was crying quietly, a hand gently probing the cheek that Ty had shattered.

  "Your career is over," Ty said. "I suspect that investigators will be able to link you to the farm in North Carolina. I bet your fingerprints are all over that medical equipment. What do you think will happen then? You'll probably be going to prison for a very long time. I'm not in any position to negotiate with you, but I'm going to ask you one more time where that baby is. This is your chance to clear your soul. Your one chance to make things right. Maybe it will help you negotiate a lighter sentence."

  "I want to see my lawyer," the doctor whispered.

  "You got a better chance of seeing Jesus. Do you have children, doctor?"

  The doctor nodded.

  "Do you provide for them? Have they been loved?"

  The doctor nodded again, a tear running from his eye.

  "Do you know what you are condemning this baby to?"

  "They adopt them out," the doctor mumbled. "They find homes."

  "You really believe that? After everything you've seen at the clinic and at that farm? Are women murdered to hide adoptions? No, they're murdered to hide sex trafficking and you're a party to it. That's the world you brought this child into."

  "No," the doctor muttered, shaking his head. "That's not true."

  "You know it's true! Just tell me where she is."

  The doctor looked off and something gave within him. He wilted. "It was a girl. We kept her at my house overnight. I told my wife it was a foster care emergency and she was only too glad to help. For one night she held her like she was one of our own."

  "Where is she now?"

  The doctor paused before replying. "I gave her to Karen this morning."

  Ty stood and holstered his Glock. That name was familiar, maybe from the task force briefing. "Karen?"

  "She's a counselor at the clinic. She lives in Abingdon."

  "She wouldn't happen to drive a white Cadillac Escalade, would she?"

  Doctor Jacoby nodded. "That's her."

  "Where do I find Karen?"

  The doctor rattled off an address. "I assume that's her home. That's where I met her this morning to give her the child."

  "How long ago?" Ty asked.

  "About two hours ago."

  Ty let out a long sigh. "I need to get moving. You'll have to excuse me for not taking you back to your vehicle, doctor. I have a child to find."

  Doctor Jacoby got to his feet, staggering for a moment. Ty wasted no time. He climbed into his truck, backed out of the woods, and was gone.

  Uncertain of what else to do, Dr. Jacoby set off walking. Ten minutes later he got to the main road and headed toward the clinic. He pictured how he was going to explain what happened to his wife. He imagined telling his daughters he would be going to prison for a while. How would they look at him after seeing the news, after learning what h
e'd been a part of?

  Then there was Harrison. The man was not the forgiving sort. How would Harrison respond to his admission that he'd shared information with the brutal man in the pickup truck? Somehow he imagined Harrison wouldn't accept torture and threats as an excuse for disclosing information. The doctor's moment of weakness might well lead to more torture and threats at Harrison's hands.

  A powerful engine roared in the distance, a gravel truck pulling onto the road and accelerating toward him. The doctor could see the driver eating a cheeseburger with one hand as worked his way through the gears, picking up speed. When the heavy truck was within thirty feet of him, Dr. Jacoby launched himself beneath the nearest wheel. The driver had no time to react and the doctor could not have timed his jump better. By the time the driver hit his brakes, all of his passenger-side tires had passed over the doctor's chest, utterly and completely pulverizing him.

  52

  Abingdon, Virginia

  Karen hated children. Anytime she'd been involved in a transaction, purchasing a child from drug-addicted parents, she'd had difficulty faking niceness. In truth, she was irritated by their neediness, by their whininess, and the fact that they turned everything they did into a mess that someone else had to clean up.

  Babies were the worst. They reminded her of a new puppy coming home to a strange house, the way they just wouldn't shut up. She'd done everything the doctor said—bottles, pacifier, holding it—and the damn thing still wouldn't be quiet. She'd wanted to leave the baby with someone else, but Harrison had been explicit that this was precious cargo. She was to take no risks and personally deliver it to him.