The man and woman gasped as one and turned toward her the same moment the back door swung open so hard it banged off the back of the truck. Odalia got a glimpse of a black teen, eyes wide and a bright red bandana over her mouth.
Brown hair.
Teen between thirteen and fifteen.
Bound and gagged.
“Sir, ma’am, I need you to step away from the vehicle.” Odalia’s body flooded with adrenaline. She was acutely aware of the scent of tar, the aroma of something rotten and the shift of the two suspects feet.
Odalia took a step toward the back of the truck. She was unarmed. Her gun was in the console of the Jeep.
John threw the air hose at her. The nozzle hit her in the face and she took a step back. The couple dove into the truck, one into the cab, the other into the back. They accelerated out of the gas station in a peal of rubber and smoke.
She turned and bolted for the Jeep as Jacques stepped out of the restaurant, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket.
Fuck it all, she’d just run into the kidnappers.
Jacques jerked the Jeep door open. Odalia was on her cell phone, and all he could gather so far was that she’d called 9-1-1.
She pulled the phone away from her face and tapped the dashboard. “Follow that truck. Now.”
He didn’t ask any more questions. In their line of work, you had to trust your partner and sometimes a split second was all it took for something really awful to happen. He shifted into reverse and whipped the Jeep around. They flew out of the parking lot and onto the two-lane road bordered by the bayou on both sides. The ice cream truck was a speck ahead on the road headed out of the city.
“Go faster,” Odalia urged.
They were already topping the speed limit by fifteen miles. The roads were mostly empty, but he still had to pass a few despite the double yellow line down the middle of the road.
“I can’t. We’re gaining, I promise.” He kept his gaze trained on the white speck that was the ice cream truck.
Out this way there wasn’t much. A lot of homes that had been destroyed by Katrina and the areas never recovered. There were forests of rubble nature was laying claim to since man would not.
They sped over a stretch of road suspended over the water, the morning sun glinting off the choppy surface and hitting him in the eyes.
“They’re turning off the road,” Odalia said into the phone.
“What exactly are we doing?” he finally asked.
“I think I just tried to help the kidnappers air up their tire,” Odalia said with the phone pulled away from her face. “Where did they go?”
She leaned forward and they both squinted at the signs. There were a few roads for turn offs into what had once been a tree-sheltered neighborhood.
“This one, I think,” she said, and rattled off the street name into the phone.
He turned and they both glanced either way. Some houses stood in partial memory of the homes they’d once been while others were nothing but a heap of rubble on their former foundation.
They rolled down one street, turned and tried another, but there wasn’t a single living thing in sight.
“Maybe try that other street?” she suggested.
“No, I think they’re here, we just haven’t seen them yet.” Odalia had her hunches, he had his. She might know when something was wrong, but he knew when the lowlifes had gone to ground.
They went down another nameless street and another with no sign of their prey.
He turned onto a road with a No Outlet sign propped up on some crates and popped open the glove compartment. His gun and badge lay on top with Odalia’s personal handgun. She took them out, handing him the strap so he could pull them on while he drove. At some point she’d dug out her badge and had it clipped to her pocket.
On their left the ground rose, and sitting on the swell of the little hill was an older, weather beaten two-story wooden house. The paint had peeled mostly off and he could clearly see the green line where the water had risen to flood the first floor, but no further. The hill had probably both sheltered and saved the house, unlike the others.
Sitting in the crumbling concrete and packed dirt driveway was the ice cream truck, the back door hung open and there wasn’t a sign of anyone.
Odalia rattled off the license plate number on the truck once more. She’d been almost certain she’d gotten it right, but it never hurt to be positive.
“Don’t block the drive or the street,” she said to Jacques. If these really were the kidnappers, which she expected, everyone was about to descend on this place.
“Officer Foucheaux?” The 9-1-1 dispatcher had to sound out her last name slowly.
“Yes, I’m here. I’ve got you on headset. We are parking on the street. I don’t see anyone except the truck, and that appears to be empty.” She could see straight through the truck with the back door hanging open like that. Not a soul moved.
“Who is we?”
“Jacques Savoy, he is a licensed bounty hunter with Bayou Hunters and my boyfriend. Can you tell me your name again? We’re getting awfully personal here.” Odalia pulled her Glock from her holster and got out of the Jeep.
“Karen.” She chuckled in Odalia’s ear.
“Nice to meet you, Karen. I’m pulling Jacques in on this call so we can use our headsets as comms.”
Jacques had parked them behind a hedge, which provided her a little cover while she dialed him in on their call. He stepped around the back of the Jeep, fiddling with his headset looped over his ear as it connected.
“There we go, now it’s almost like poker night. Karen, we’re going to approach the house, see what we can.”
“Should we wait for back-up?” Jacques asked.
“Back-up is on their way, but you’re in a remote area. It’s going to take them time to get there,” Karen replied.
“We’ll just get a closer look.” Odalia had lain awake at night, her gut churning over the fate of these kids. One look at that couple and she’d gotten a hinky feeling. What if they were doing something to that poor kid while they just sat out here doing nothing? She couldn’t stand the thought of it.
Jacques nodded and she led the way around the hedge and onto the broken driveway. Though she’d drawn her pistol, she kept it at her side in as non-threatening way as possible. If a drawn gun could ever be considered non-threatening.
The property, at a glance, appeared like every other run-down house in the neighborhood. On closer inspection, the junk heaps and cars sitting on cinderblocks in the front yard might have pre-dated Katrina.
“Movement, first floor second window from the left,” Jacques said, his words clipped and fast.
“I see—”
Jacques grabbed her, diving to their right as gunfire cracked through the still, calm morning, shattering it. They hit the ground and rolled as another shot sent up dust where they’d landed. Odalia crouched behind a rubble heap, sucking down oxygen in deep breaths.
“Officer Fou-cheese? Officer?”
“You know, it would probably be a lot easier if you just called me Odalia. We’ve got a shooter on the first floor. I can’t see if it’s the man or the woman. Jacques?”
He lay on his back at her side, half propped up by the rubble. “I’m good. Damn rock hit me in the head.”
“Shit, you’re bleeding.” Odalia grabbed Jacques’ chin and forced him to look at her. He had a small gash above his left eye on his brow. It didn’t look deep, but head wounds were a bitch and bleed like crazy.
“Are you injured? Is Jacques in need of the paramedics?” Karen’s voice never rose. She never got flustered. She was really good at this.
“He’s scratched. We’re okay. Damn, this is not good.” Odalia glanced around. Now more than ever she wanted to get that kid out. She didn’t let herself think about the other teens that had disappeared or their fate. One thing at a time.
Jacques crouched next to her, glancing this way and that. Their posi
tion was fairly well covered. If they needed to, they could stay behind the pile until back-up got there.
He licked his lips and glanced at her. There was something awfully sexy about Jacques in the field. Working together. It was a shame they couldn’t do this more often. “I’m going to circle the house. I can keep low and get behind that car, then that pile of branches. I bet I can get around back. This place backs up onto the swamp. There ain’t nothing behind this place but trees and water. I don’t think we want these people taken off that way.”
“Okay.” She didn’t like being separated, but they were just two people.
“Jacques is going to circle the house. Where are you, Odalia?” Karen asked.
“I’m going to remain at the front of the house. Back-up will have a clear shot of my position.” She couldn’t help but watch Jacques peer around the edge of their hiding place.
She had to tear her gaze away from him and go back to watching the house. The curtains fluttered in the open window and she had a clear view of a man in coveralls, crouched over with a rifle.
If Jacques moved, they would see him.
“Jacques, get ready to move,” she said.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Odalia didn’t answer. She took a deep breath and stood straight up, exposing herself. She aimed and squeezed off three shots as fast as she could. There was too much of a risk that she might hit someone innocent inside the house, so she aimed at a stump a few yards in front of the house. The dry wood splintered and shattered, sending up a cloud of wood chips and dust.
She didn’t wait for the man, John, to return fire. She dropped to the ground and glanced sideways to see Jacques already at the brush pile that was just about near the side of the house.
“Odalia?” Karen’s voice wavered.
Odalia flinched as a rifle round blasted through the air and chips of cinderblock went flying over her head. She threw one arm over herself and tucked her knees in tight.
“I’m okay. Jacques is almost to the side of the house. I just drew their fire.” She twisted and leaned to the side, peering around the cinderblocks.
John wasn’t there anymore.
Odalia lay on her stomach and aimed at the stump again. She fired one shot and waited.
No return fire.
“Something’s wrong. They’re ignoring me now. Jacques?”
“I smell smoke.” His words chilled her. The house was so old, the wood so rotten that it would go up like flash paper.
“Is the house on fire?” Karen asked.
Odalia scanned the windows, peering at the edges of the house set against the bright blue morning sky.
“No, I don’t see any smoke. Wait! Yes, there’s smoke. It’s coming out of the left side of the house. Jacques? Do you see anything?”
“Windows are all drawn. I got nothing. We need to get in there, bébé.”
“Karen, how far away is back-up? Shit, that smoke is starting to pour out. There’s not time.”
“They’re at least five minutes out.” Karen’s voice was fraught with worry.
“Fuck. Okay, I’m going to draw their fire, Jacques, go in the back,” Odalia said before she could think better of it. Jacques wasn’t exactly the type to take orders from anyone, including her.
“My thoughts exactly,” he said, startling her.
“Okay.” She blew out a breath and wrapped both hands around her gun. “On three. One. Two. Three.”
Odalia straightened and aimed for the window. If John shot at her this time, she’d have to shoot to kill.
Except nothing moved.
She could hear the thump, thump, thump of Jacques’ boots on wood through the headset, then a grunt and the sound of rustling.
“What’s going on?” Karen asked.
“Jacques?” Odalia started toward the house.
He didn’t answer. Odalia broke into a run, sprinting for the front of the house. She yanked the front door open and flattened her back against the house, peering around the door jam.
The girl she’d seen in the ice cream truck lay bound and gagged on the floor. She’d rolled over mostly onto her back. Her eyes were large, fear rimmed.
“Jacques?” she yelled.
A hazy black fog hung in the air, growing thicker. Smoke.
“I’m here.” Jacques entered through what appeared to be the kitchen. “They rushed me as I came up the stairs and ran out back, just the man and woman.”
“I need your knife. We need to get anyone else out of here and put that fire out.” Odalia knelt by the girl.
Jacques handed her a six-inch hunting knife he always kept on his person.
“I have one teenage girl here.” Odalia sliced through the ropes like butter. Jacques liked a very sharp knife. “I’m Officer Foucheaux. You’re okay. What’s your name?”
“Michelle,” the girl sobbed.
“Were there any other people, Michelle?” Odalia helped the girl to her feet.
“No.”
“I need you to go out to the road. There’s a Jeep. Get inside of it and wait for the police.”
Michelle ran for the road. Odalia turned and blinked, her eyes already watering from the smoke.
“Odalia, downstairs,” Jacques said through the headset.
She headed for the kitchen where a set of stairs led down into what must have once been a root cellar. Except now it was lined with at least nine, large dog crates. And inside four of them were more teens, except these boys and girls were emaciated, their limbs skinny and clothes dirty.
Flames licked the side of the cellar. A dirty rag heap raged with far more intensity than bits of cloth should have. John and his wife must have used an accelerant: gasoline, alcohol or any one of a number of other household items.
Jacques held part of his shirt over his mouth and was trying to beat the flames out.
“Karen, I’ve got a lot of kids down here and there’s a fire. We need that back-up now.”
“Help,” one of the girls said. She grasped the bars and rattled them.
The others took up her chant, seeming to finally realize they weren’t their captors.
“We’re going to get you out of here.” Odalia approached the first crate closest to the flames. The crate was locked and she didn’t have time to pick the lock. She met the eyes of a scared boy who couldn’t have been much older than thirteen, if that. “I need for you to get as far back as you can. I’m going to kick the door in.”
He nodded and balled up inside the crate. It wasn’t even big enough for him to stand up in or stretch his limbs.
Odalia took a step back and kicked with all her might. The cage rattled and the top hinge hung a little lopsided. She kicked again and again and again before the door hung on by chance alone. She grasped the wire door and yanked it free.
She didn’t know if they would be able to save all the children. The smoke was almost so thick she couldn’t see the other cages, and they didn’t know what other horrors this house held.
chapter Three
Tracking
Jacques knew they couldn’t put out the fire. It had already caught the floorboards above on fire and from there, it would collapse the house. They were going to have to give this up and focus on getting the kids.
“Help is on the way,” Karen chanted in his ear. The woman was holding it together with the strength of Samson, but right now he needed more hands, not words.
Another of those damn cage doors clanged open and he caught a glimpse of a second walking skeleton trying to climb the stairs. When he found those fuckers, he’d make them hurt for what they did to these children. He didn’t care what the letter of the law said to do, no one should hurt children.
“Fuck it.”
He whirled and three strides until he was at the last cage and kicked. The door came apart as if it were built of toothpicks. The brunette girl inside stared at him, tears making the grime on her face smear.
�
�Come on, baby girl.” He reached inside and had to help her move, practically picking her up and lifting her out of the prison. He would make sure whatever pain those two creeps suffered would last. “I’ve got you,” he said to the girl.
Odalia got the last cage open and helped the boy out.
The brunette put her feet on the ground and almost collapsed. She clung to the front of his shirt, her eyes wide.
“T-the others,” she said.
“There are more?” He picked her up and followed Odalia up the stairs. A coughing fit took him as it became almost impossible to breathe.
“Karen, these kids say there are more people here.” He could hear Odalia better over the headset than over the fire.
“I’ve got these two, you go upstairs,” Jacques said as they reached the kitchen.
She transferred the boy’s grip to his arm and he started toward the front of the house. God, he didn’t want Odalia in this house. The kitchen wasn’t on fire, but whatever was next to it had to be.
He got the two kids out the front of the house and urged them farther. He could see the first child cradling a little boy up by the road. Sirens could still be heard in the distance, but they might not make it in time.
“I need you two to go up to the road. Can you make it?” He set the brunette down.
She turned and grabbed him. “Please, the others.”
“Yes, I know. I’m going back for them, I promise. We’ll get them out.”
She nodded and took several wobbling steps. He had to turn his back on her even though all he wanted to do was hold the poor thing and weep for the innocence she’d lost. Instead, he raced back into the house. Flames were tearing across the living room and out from under the stairs that opened up into the foyer. If he went upstairs, he might not have a way back down.
Bam. Crash.
But Odalia was upstairs and knocking down doors, it would seem. He took the stairs two and three at a time.
Odalia had begun at the end of the hall. One door stood open and she’d begun her assault on the next. She stepped back and so did a figure at her side. They both kicked. The door rattled in its hinges. He didn’t stop to ask, if whoever was in these rooms could help they’d take it.
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