by Alex Gates
“They have their freedom.”
“London, not everyone can escape from their kidnapper as easily as you did.”
Easy?
He knew he made the mistake, but his apology came too late.
“Forget it,” I said. “This isn’t about me. This is about them. I’m saving these women.”
Wasn’t I?
I left James outside the interrogation room. The door closed behind me. Usually the click of the latch terrified the perps sitting in the chairs. Anna was afraid, but she didn’t show it. She cradled the baby, singing to soothe the little girl.
“Detective, have you been to a doctor yet?” Anna asked. “You’ve been through an ordeal.”
I appreciated the concern, but that didn’t change the facts. “Your husband set those traps.”
“You should be checked over. We all should. I thank you for the doctors. You’re very kind to worry about the children.”
“I’m very, very worried about the children, Anna.”
“My name isn’t Anna.”
“Are you sure?”
She didn’t hesitate. Her soft smile soothed the baby. “Of course, I’m sure.”
“What do you remember about your life before the farm?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“You can’t remember?”
“I choose not to.”
“Why?”
The little coos from the baby weren’t the answers I’d hoped for. Anna searched the interrogation room. Nothing would help her here. The walls were bare, the plastic chairs uncomfortable, and my voice recorder low on batteries.
A wayward chestnut hair fell over her cheek. The lock almost hid the portwine birthmark on her neck.
Almost.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Detective.”
“Try me,” I said. “I’m listening.”
“You didn’t listen before…” Anna didn’t accuse, only whisper it. “And you have no idea what you’ve done.”
“I’m protecting these girls.”
“So were we.”
“No. The men were bedding those girls.”
She didn’t confirm it. Her silence wasn’t a denial either.
“I know they got those little girls pregnant,” I said.
“We help pregnant girls on the farm. It’s charity.”
“You’re lying to protect them.”
Anna bit her lip. “We’re a family. We take care of each other.”
“And the bunker under the barn?”
When was the last time Anna had been inside? The murals had been newer, the mattress relatively fresh. Fifteen years had passed since she had been taken. Did they torture her the same way? Had they beaten her and forced her to comply, or did they show her the happy, smiling pictures of pregnant girls and give her toys to play with that would reinforce their specific desires?
“What do you want from us?” Anna asked. “What can I say that will let us go back home? There must be some way to convince you that we are not in danger.”
“You’ve been in danger, Anna.”
“I’m not Anna.”
“You were reported missing in July of 2002. You were on the farm by August. The dates don’t lie. Jacob raped you while you were in his custody. You were pregnant by him at fifteen.”
The words caught in her throat. “And my son is dead. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“You loved your son…but Jacob was wrong to touch you. He was wrong to marry such a young girl. He used you. And by all legal definitions, he raped you.”
“Do not presume you understand what happens in a man’s bedroom.”
“It’s not a presumption. There’s half dozen pregnant girls out there. Underage. And I bet if I ask them who their husband is…Jacob won’t like the answer.”
“They aren’t married. You’ll find no marriage license.”
“I’ll find out.” I’d do without eating, without sleeping if that’s what it took. “That’s my job. I help people. And those girls need help, just like you do. Just like that baby.”
Anna’s gaze snapped upwards. I met her gaze without flinching.
“What’s the baby’s name, Anna?”
A long pause. “I’m not her mother. I shouldn’t answer those questions.”
“Who is her mother?”
“Detective, please.”
“Who is her father?”
Tears formed. I hated that I caused them.
“We’ve been through so much today,” Anna whispered. “So much pain and suffering when it should have been a day of celebration.”
“The weddings, right?” I shook my head. “Mariam is ten years old. She’s too young for marriage. she’s too young to be touched by a man in that way. Don’t you realize how badly she’d be hurt?”
She shook her head, shutting down. “Our family is splintered and terrified. I have no idea where Jacob is, and neither do the others. Please, let us be.”
“That’s Rebecca, isn’t it?”
“I can’t help you.”
“No. You won’t help me.” I leaned close, taking her hand. “All I need is a nod. You don’t have to speak a word. No one will know. No one will see. I only want the truth, Anna.” That didn’t work. I softened my voice. “Eve. Please. Is this little girl Jonah and Nina’s missing baby?”
“I’m sorry, Detective.”
And then I understood.
Then I saw through the games and the silences, the fears and the craziness of the day.
Then it made sense.
She wasn’t worried about Jonah or his reputation.
She wanted the baby.
“You’re afraid we’ll take her away,” I said.
Anna’s tears fell, choking her in a quiet sob. “She only knows her family. The farm. Me. It’s all she has, Detective.”
“You’re her grandmother.” A young, thirty-year-old grandmother. “You have custody rights.”
Her voice hardened. “As would another set of grandparents. Enough damage has been done today. No. I won’t tell you anything.”
“We have DNA from both Nina and Jonah’s bodies. We can compel a DNA test.”
She stared straight ahead. “If you must.”
“Or you can help me. Give me this closure.”
“I have to do what’s best for my family.”
And Jacob.
She had to protect her husband.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am. But we’ll get a court order for the DNA.”
“Tonight?”
God, I wished it worked that quickly. “No. Nothing else tonight. We’re arranging a hotel for you all. Your family can stay together, and we’ll provide food and supplies for everyone, including the babies.”
“Thank you.” Anna was polite, even in obstinacy. “When will we be allowed to go home?”
Now was my turn to play coy, but I took no pride in it. “As soon as I know you’ll be safe.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was all I could give. I had no real time plan for her because…
We had no idea what to do.
Most of the women on the farm were underage, and until they told us their names or we found some identifiable fingerprints, we were lost.
We’d have to find their parents or call social services.
But what about their children? We couldn’t separate mothers and children. The media would destroy us. The family would feel utterly betrayed.
And then we’d never have help finding Jacob Goodman.
I led Anna to the others, catching James’s gaze on the way. Damn it. He was right. I’d pushed her too hard. I didn’t get information, and I set back the investigation a few days until I could regain her trust.
But as long as I knew no one would hurt them anymore, I was happy.
And I knew what James would say about that too. Sacrificing a solid case and surveillance to rescue the victims seemed good in theory, but if we couldn’t get enough evidence for the DA to convict?
<
br /> The girls would go right back to the men abusing them.
I sat at my desk, staring at the piles of paperwork and notes from every one of my supervisors. The reporters buzzed outside. The Red Cross needed a headcount and ages. Homicide wanted answers about Jonah. Everyone had questions.
But I had no answers.
A tug on my sleeve turned my attention. I smiled, surprised to find one of the young girls leaning close to my desk. Ester? She’d been promised to Jacob’s son, Luke.
She kept her eyes low, her hand on her tummy. Still flat, but I understood her concern. Her face had paled, and she wavered a bit.
She couldn’t have been older than thirteen.
“You’re pregnant?” I asked.
“I…need the restroom.”
“Morning sickness?”
She nodded. I gestured to the officer at the door.
“He can take you to the women’s room.”
Ester wavered. “But he’s a…”
A man.
Right.
“No problem. Come with me. This way.”
“Thank you.” She pressed her hand into mine, locking gazes for only a moment. “For everything.”
I closed my fist around the curled note. My pulse raced. “Anytime.”
She waved for two of the other girls to follow, and I led them into the hall, hidden from the watchful gaze of Anna and the older women.
I waited until they entered the restroom before uncurling the paper. The note was written hastily, off-center and quick.
Jacob has a bunker. He’s taken the men there.
They’re in the Allegheny Forest game lands.
They want to steal us back.
Please stop them!
25
The secret to escaping isn’t finding a way out…
It’s avoiding the trap in the first place.
-Him
The SWAT team suited me up with a bulletproof vest. I hoped we wouldn’t need it, but my gut said to prepare for war.
“Perimeter is clear.” The SWAT leader, Rick Reginald, returned to our comm center. It wasn’t much, a trailer with a bank of computers and radios connected in the trees. He removed his helmet and took an offered bottle of water, sucking down the entirety before nodding to Adamski and me. “There’s no sign of anyone on the property or inside the structure.”
Not a chance. “They’re here. Hiding.”
Rick gestured over the grass, mocking the boundaries of the Goodman’s bunker. “They have one entrance to this structure. No one goes in or out without us seeing. But I’ll tell you…” He whistled. “If they’d gone in, they wouldn’t have had to come out. Not for years.”
“Years?” Adamski looked ridiculous in the bulletproof vest, especially as he kept yanking his pants up under it. “What is it?”
“A prepper bunker,” I said.
Rick nodded. “It’s fully loaded on the inside. We’re talking guns, food, medicine, beds. They could survive two apocalypses in this thing. Plenty of supplies…but no people.”
Then they didn’t search everywhere. “These guys have nowhere else to go. This is where they’d stand their ground.”
Rick tapped the camera on his helmet. “You saw everything I did. A single bed was unmade. Their generator is on. But there’s no one inside.”
“No girls?”
“No.”
At least we had that consolation. I had no idea if all the Goodmans’ children and brides were accounted for in our custody. And the girls wouldn’t talk. I doubted Jacob would put any of his brood in danger while prepping for battle, but without confirmation, that sickening pit in my stomach grew.
Only one way to find out. “I’m going in. We have to find out where Jacob is hiding.”
Adamski hated this idea, and he’d let me hear it the entire drive from Pittsburgh into the National Forest of the Alleghenies. The lecture had been lengthened and the trip delayed thanks to his carsickness on the backass roads. The Goodmans built their bunker far from civilization, where no one would ever think to look.
Except for us.
I wasn’t letting this slime slip through the cracks.
“Leave it to the SWAT team, London,” Adamski said. “Might be dangerous.”
Rick wasn’t as concerned. “We’ve completed the preliminary sweep. It’s clear. Detective McKenna should see this. Maybe she can explain what the hell these people were doing.”
I refused to get into the minds of the bastards I chased—once inside, that filth would remain. It took a special type of person to do that work, and I let James handle it. I didn’t understand the Goodmans, but that wouldn’t stop me from investigating them and exposing their every sin to the world.
“We’ll find them,” I said.
Adamski frowned. “If they were ever here.”
“Ester led us here. She was brave enough to give them up. Even if they aren’t here now, we might find out where they’ve gone.”
“Yeah, and we thought the little one helped us too.” Adamski pointed to the healing cut on my forehead. “But Mariam pulled the trigger and detonated that bomb. You almost died. Three state troopers are still in the hospital.”
That wasn’t Mariam’s fault. Jacob stained his hands with their blood, not the girls. Not the ones forced to hurt others to protect their abusers.
“I’ll be careful,” I said.
“You said that last time…right before you stepped on an IED.”
He sounded like James. Fortunately, I’d learned how to play to those fears. “And I made it out of that one alive.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Don’t get pessimistic.” I checked my weapon and nodded to Rick. “Let’s go.”
Rick secured my gear twice before letting me step outside of the secured comm center. We weren’t paranoid. The forest was too large, dense, and dotted with scrubs, rocks, and snow covered holes and hills to check everywhere for any other homemade weaponry and bombs.
But I doubted they’d set anything here.
This was their bastion of last resort.
The Goodman’s bunker stretched deep under our feet, buried beneath the dirt and snow. It wasn’t a hideout or temporary. The concrete structure was massive, excavated to protect the entire family.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Rick led me to the bunker’s only door. Metal and wide-set, like a tornado shelter’s entrance. “Go on down. You’re not going to believe this shit.”
I would, because I’d seen the preview back at the barn.
But this was something different. The paranoid delusion of sociopath with limitless money and a reason to hide his prey from the world.
The steps looked almost steel, but they’d been constructed from a rigid, plastic material. White. They probably hoped to capture as much brightness as they could. The walls closed in quick, but the brushed cement polished into a light grey. Not as damp and dirty as I’d imagined.
Nothing was like what I imagined.
The Goodmans had prepared for more than an emergency. They’d built an entire estate deep under the earth.
And no one knew.
“We’re talking millions of dollars here.” Rick waited for me at the base of the stairs.
The damned hall opened into a real house. Carpets. Wallpaper. To the left—a full-sized kitchen, complete with refrigerator, dishwasher, and two massive stoves and ovens. A fully stocked pantry opened to my right. Walls of MREs, homemade canned vegetables, and a staggering variety of food supplies lined the shelves. The pantry stretched larger than the ground floor of my home, and every inch had stockpiled enough supplies for an army—or the Goodman’s family.
“Jesus.” I followed Rick, touching the walls. Cold. “All metal?”
“Mostly. This looks made for comfort though. Plenty of room for an entire church in here. Bedrooms are that way…” We came to an intersection. He pointed to the right where two officers searched through plain, grey and white bedding and bunk beds. “Counted twenty
-five bunk beds so far. Split into rooms of five. The living quarters aren’t exactly luxurious, but each has a bathroom.”
“Working utilities?”
“As far as we can tell, there’s septic tanks built along the entire structure. And they’ve dug to the aquifer below. Plenty of fresh water.” Rick looked upon the bunker in awe. “They might have lived here for years without ever coming up. This is some new-age paranoia.”
“No. Just an organized cult.” I ducked into a separate room cordoned off from the main hallway by a thick oak door. “This room looks important.”
He followed me inside. The office wasn’t huge, but it fit a desk and chairs, a bookshelf, and a bank of official-looking filing cabinets. I dove at them, but each had been locked. Rick pointed to the drawer on the end.
“Already opened one.” He rifled through the files. “It’s paperwork for the farm. Goodman probably duplicated everything significant. Deeds and banking accounts. They stored copies here. Like I said—paranoid.”
“No. Just careful.” I slowly turned in the room, touching the handcrafted desk. Custom. It had to be built by Jonah. “These people planned everything. The farm. The girls. The escape. But this is a place they would have stayed.”
“They were here. But it looks like they took supplies and left.”
I hated this. So goddamned close and still they were a step ahead of me. “They didn’t expect one of the girls to give them up, but they wouldn’t leave this behind.”
“A place like this cost some serious money and time to design.” Rick rubbed his face, picking at a well-trimmed beard. “But, if I were them, Canada would be looking a lot better than some hole in the ground.”
“They won’t run.”
“Are you that sure?”
I plunked myself in Jacob’s executive chair and imagined what his ideal life looked like. The thought twisted my stomach. “They’re going to come back.”
“How do you know?”
Simplest answer?
“Because we have their girls. Jacob will defend his family with blood if he must. Nothing would stop him from taking what’s his.”
Rick wasn’t listening. His radio blasted with a sudden chirp of calls and whistles.
