by Rose, Amelia
Now, they both alternated between screaming and writhing, with periods of unnerving silence in between. Luckily, at least so far, they had stuck to an impromptu schedule of alternating for Ms. Crane so that they weren’t both screaming at the same time. Thank goodness for small favors, Ms. Crane thought to herself sourly. I don’t know if I could handle both of them freaking out at once. This is why I left teen rehab behind.
“He’s coming for us,” a small voice said during a lull in Emma’s screaming. Ms. Crane immediately jumped up and ran to crouch beside Dee on the floor.
“What? What did you say, dear?” The woman asked, smoothing the sweaty hair back from where it was plastered to the girl’s clammy forehead.
“He’s coming for us. He’ll find us and he’ll kill us.”
“No, sweetie, Mack isn’t going to hurt you. I promise. I won't let him hurt you.”
“He’ll kill us,” Dee repeated quietly, her eyes not moving from the spot on the wall where they’d stared for hours. “He said so. He said he’d kill us if we ever left.”
Ms. Crane sighed, closing her eyes and willing God to give her the words to say that would comfort this poor girl. Even she was surprised at what came out of her mouth.
“No, sweetie. He won’t hurt you, and that is my promise. I swear to you, I’ll kill him first myself.” Ms. Crane gave Dee a determined, confident smile and patted the girl’s hand firmly. She pushed herself up off the floor and was relieved to see that Emma had pretty much burned herself out and was now lying on the floor across the room from her friend. The two girls reminded the teacher of paper dolls, thrown to the ground after their owner tired of playing with them.
Ms. Crane breathed a sigh of relief and went to get some rest herself, settling on the sofa after checking the locks on the doors and each window one more time. Something about Dee’s haunting, hollow voice had her spooked too, or maybe it was just the way the girl seemed so calm, so resigned to what she thought would happen to them. Covering each girl with a blanket before turning in herself, she decided to keep one small lamp burning and her hand on the semi-automatic handgun Mr. Carson had armed her with before sending her on this lonely adventure.
Everyone says things will look brighter in the morning, but someone forgot to tell Dee and Emma. Dee was still curled in a ball and Ms. Crane’s mind went immediately to the possible shutdown of her kidneys, given that she hadn’t had to get up to go to the bathroom in almost forty-eight hours. The girl hadn’t been able to eat or drink anything in that time, either, but that shouldn’t have done it.
“Dee, sweetie, you have to get up,” the teacher began, shaking the girl awake and feeling flooded with relief when she opened her eyes slightly. “Come on, you rested all day yesterday. I’m sorry, but you have to get up and move today.” She put her hands under Dee’s arms and began to lift her, horrified that the girl weighed almost nothing.
Dee didn’t fight her, but she didn’t help support her weight either. She hung limply in Ms. Crane’s arms, too weak from the exhaustion and lack of food to do anything more than be carried. After she managed to get Dee cleaned up and in the bed, Ms. Crane turned her attention to Emma, who was lying in the floor next to a small puddle of her own vomit. She carried Emma next, cleaning her up and putting her in the bed with Dee.
Ms. Crane returned to the small kitchen and got to work making a thin broth, peeling a pot full of potatoes and putting them on to boil to mash into the broth when the girls felt like eating something again. She made sure there was plenty of bottled water in the fridge, and filled a kettle with cold water and tea bags so it would be ready to make sweet tea when the girls felt like drinking something.
After finishing the random chores and cleaning up a little bit around the cabin, she checked on the sleeping girls once more before returning to her chair in the front room. From her chair, she watched out the window for any signs of Mack, all the while keeping a pistol close to her side.
Chapter Twelve
Miranda pulled her cowboy hat further down over her eyes to block the bright sunlight that was intruding on her nap. She’d spent the last week lounging in a chaise beside the hotel pool with Casey, when the two of them hadn’t felt the need to head back up to their room for a while, that is. Ordering in from room service and alternating between the oversized chaise and the bed had left her dreamily lazy and completely blissful.
Casey lounged next to her, his fingers interlaced with hers. He ran his fingertips idly over the heavy wedding band and engagement ring that he’d only put there a matter of days ago. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to that myself,” Miranda said sleepily without opening her eyes, a smile playing across her full lips.
“And I’m getting used to seeing you with clothes on again,” he said in a husky whisper, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her palm, then placing light kisses on each of her fingertips.
“Seriously? This swim suit is the most clothing I’ve had on all week!” she said with a laugh. “And even this wouldn’t count as covered enough to even go into a convenience store!” Casey smiled at the truth, rolling toward her on the double chaise and pulling her closer to him, turning her so that they both lay on their sides.
“I happen to be incredibly fond of that swimsuit,” he replied, working one finger under the single string that held her top in place, teasing the skin along her back until he made his way around to her side, barely grazing the sensitive skin along her breast until she shivered. “Remember to turn us so we don’t tan like this!” Casey mumbled in her ear in a sleepy, satisfied voice, letting her know that he had no intention of moving soon. Somewhere behind him, his phone buzzed on the table, pinging that he’d received a text. He didn’t release his grip on Miranda by even a fraction, happily ignoring the intrusion.
“Sweetie, aren’t you going to pick that up?” She asked keeping her eyes closed as she threw her hat down on the stone patio beside her.
“Nope.” He hugged her even closer to him.
“Casey Carson! It could be Gracie! Please?” She asked, reminding him that her baby sister was without her only family member on the cattle drive.
“It can’t possibly be Gracie. Her fingers had to have fallen off by now from all the texts she’s sent you! She’d have to be texting with her toes!”
“First of all, I’m sure she can text with her feet...she’s thirteen! And remember, I warned you that she’d do this. I’m the only family she has and she’s never been alone before.”
“I’m only teasing, honey, I knew she was part of the package when I married you. And my whole family is better off for it, for having both of you.” He kissed her firmly on the cheek, but pulled away to pick up his phone like she’d asked. He held it up and pressed the screen, jolting upright after reading the message for only a few seconds. Miranda sat up in alarm, grabbing Casey’s arm as she spoke.
“What is it, sweetie? Is it Gracie?” Casey shook his head silently, his brow creasing as he continued reading. “Oh, God, is it your dad?”
“No, nothing like that. Don’t worry. I just have to call them.” He got up off the lounge chair to make a phone call but Miranda stopped him and pulled him back, sitting him down beside her and taking his face between her hands. She looked at his eyes intensely, determination in her tone of voice.
“Casey Carson, do not walk away from me. Whatever business you have back home involves me now, too. We don’t shield anything from each other, and we don’t keep secrets. I’m a Carson now, too…remember?”
Casey closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers for a moment. He nodded. “I’m sorry, you’re completely right. This is so new to me, too. I just wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? What’s wrong?” she pleaded, taking his hands.
“There’s a problem back at the ranch. Don’t worry, Gracie’s fine,” he said, putting a finger to Miranda’s lips when she started to interrupt so he could read the series of text messages that continued to cause his phone to beep. “S
he’s still on the drive. But Carey’s at the house for some reason and he’s been hurt, and Joseph is on his way to the hospital. Dad’s meeting him there. Apparently…Crazy Mack came around, causing problems and making all kinds of threats. He’s the reason Carey’s injured.”
“Oh, no! What do we need to do?” she asked, searching Casey’s face.
“I’m so sorry to ask you this, but would it be horrible to cut our honeymoon a little short? I promise, when the drive is over and everyone’s safe, we’ll pick right up where we left off.”
“Of course, Casey! Anywhere you are is my honeymoon, for the rest of our lives, and I don’t care whether it’s a fancy resort or a cow pasture. But you know that family comes first. Where should we go, home or to meet up with the drive?” Miranda was already gathering her towel and sunscreen, ready to head to the room and pack up.
“Well, I’m sure my dad will head back to the ranch once Joseph’s released from the hospital. And you know…I’m sorry to tell you this…but Gracie’s still with the drive and there’s no one from the family there with her.” Miranda’s eyes widened in shock, “Wait, I promise she’s in good hands, those people might as well be our family. But I know you’d feel better if we were with her. I would too.”
Miranda nodded, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “You’re right. Let me go get my boots on, cowboy, we got us a cattle drive to get to!” she said with a nervous smile. Casey pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her passionately, oblivious to anyone who might see them. Let them look, I’m the luckiest man alive, he thought as he deepened their kiss.
They walked hand in hand to the bank of elevators that led to the suites, feeling the disappointment of cutting their time together short but knowing that they had obligations that wouldn’t wait. If they hurried, they could be on the road within the hour, and make the four-hour drive to rendezvous with the group by nightfall.
Chapter Thirteen
Amy and Carey stood post at two different windows on opposite ends of the first floor, staring out into the darkness for Mack or any of the faceless and possibly unlimited number of people who could be working with him. His burns still wrapped in gauze and still excruciating, Carey didn’t trust himself with a loaded gun, not when he still needed so much pain medicine. Instead, he kept watch, ready to alert Amy if anything looked strange. He also had a radio connecting him to Anders and to Amy, but they’d agreed not to use it until they had to so anyone lurking outside wouldn’t know their whereabouts.
They had spent the whole day converting the kitchen into a safe zone, moving enough beds for the remaining house staff into the large, windowless room. It was pure luck that they had plenty of bottled water and prepared food in the supply room, because Mack, or someone working for him, had cut the wires to the house, leaving them without electricity. As Anders had realized that first day when they huddled in fear, the large industrial refrigerators provided an added layer of protection if bullets started flying, even if they no longer kept their food from spoiling.
It was Anders who thought of also cutting the gas to the three oversized six-burner stoves, just in case Mack tried anything that could cause an explosion. And Amy had been the one to reject the high-powered rifle and ammo the sheriff had left them in case it was intentionally ineffective, helping herself to the store of the Carson’s small artillery instead.
That left Carey feeling pretty much useless, and missing his twin brother even more. Casey would have taken charge from the very beginning, and would probably have caught Mack that first night. He also wouldn’t have been stupid enough to bring the sheriff out here when he was in on it the whole time. Carey felt more lost than ever without his twin.
Wait a minute, Carey thought to himself in shock, sitting up so suddenly that pain shot through the damaged nerve endings in his heat-seared skin. This isn’t about those two girls. It might have been at first, but not anymore. He picked up his handheld radio and brought it close to his mouth and spoke in a low voice.
“Amy, come in,” Carey said quietly, waiting with his fingers on the volume knob, ready to dial it down in a hurry if her response was too sharp. She took the hint from his whispered transmission and responded by simply pressing her transmit button without saying a word.
“I think I know what’s going on. Mack wants his two cash cows back; sure, I’ll believe that. But why would the sheriff help Mack with his little prostitution ring? He might look the other way, especially if his deputies, or heck, even the sheriff himself, had spent some after-hours time at the bar. But to come out here and know that Mack was going to try to burn us out? That would have been almost a dozen counts of murder if Mack’s plan had succeeded. You don’t take a chance on killing people, accidentally or not, over a couple of runaway prostitutes. There has to be more to this than that.”
“What else are you thinking it could it be?” Amy whispered into her radio, suddenly very business-like. Carey could almost see her face in his mind, her forehead creased with worry, her blue eyes practically burning as she thought over what he would say next. He pushed aside the thoughts of her beautiful features and answered her.
Carey’s anger at his own understanding of the situation made him no longer concerned about secrecy and silence. “Those two showed up here looking like the most pathetic, half-starved, half-dead, and half-alive creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. They were so strung out on drugs, it’s a wonder they could even walk on their little stick legs, let alone find the place. My dad put them up in a cabin off our property so they could clean up a little before we helped them figure out what to do next.”
“It’s not uncommon for prostitutes to use drugs, Carey.” She knew from her several years’ experience on the street and had always felt some level of empathy for those working women—many of them just kids, while just as many of them were hardened, older women—who’d ended up in prostitution and drugs, because it was often hard to tell which had come first in their lives.
“Yeah, but where’d they get the drugs? Even the sheriff said Mack was suspected of selling drugs. He’s been doping those girls up and pimping them out with the same stuff he sells. And the sheriff’s getting paid to look the other way, if he’s not actually a part of the operation.”
“And you think Mack isn’t worried so much about getting his hookers back as he is getting his witnesses back,” Amy stated boldly, her voice beginning to shake with anger as she put it all together.
“Exactly. By the time he fed them, clothed them, and kept them pumped full of drugs, he couldn’t have been making that much money off them. They were just another draw to get guys in the door of his bar. But now that they’re gone, he has no way of knowing what they’ll say and who they’ll say it to.”
“But for the sheriff to put himself at this much risk, he has to be in pretty deep. And those girls must have seen him,” Amy said angrily. There were a lot of things she could tolerate, but a crooked cop was not one of them.
Carey felt anxious. A part of him was kind of hoping that Amy, with her years of police training, would shoot his theory full of holes and tell him it just wasn’t possible. He’d been counting on her to come up with a different idea, one that was safer and meant that the police and a drug dealer weren’t outside at that very moment, ready to stop at nothing to protect their business and their secret.
At the same time, it felt good to be believed and to finally make sense of what was happening. His contentment was short-lived when Amy’s voice came through the radio again.
“I know you don’t want to scare your dad, especially with your brother in the hospital, but this is now officially bigger than both of us. We need to get on the satellite phone and have him radio the DEA. We need some armed officials we can trust, not any of these local or even nearby state guys. There’s no telling how far Matthews’ reach spreads.”
Carey held his radio up to answer, but never had the chance. He felt the dull blow of a solid object colliding with the back of his head, m
omentarily blinded by bright flashes of radiating pain behind his eyes. His knees gave way underneath him and he crumpled to the floor, landing facedown and unconscious.
Chapter Fourteen
“Miranda!” Gracie screamed in excitement, flying at her older sister and tackling her in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back! Did you have a good honeymoon? Was it…romantic?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and pretending to swoon.
“I'm not answering that until you are much, much older,” Miranda answered with a shocked laugh. She was most surprised by the change in Gracie’s whole personality, for the better of course. The mousy girl who’d been through one horrible ordeal after another in her short life had been replaced by this exuberant, bouncy cowgirl. We’ll live on this cattle drive year-round for all I care, if it will keep that smile on Gracie’s face, She thought. “Have you had a good time? Did you behave yourself?”
“Yes, and yes,” Gracie answered soundly with a firm nod. She grinned broadly, lighting up her sun-kissed face. “So are you guys gonna finish the drive with us?”
“That we are! We’re here ‘til the end of the line!” Casey said, coming up behind Miranda and pulling her in a passionate hug that made Gracie stick her tongue out.
“Ewwwww, it’s not gonna be like that the whole rest of the trip, is it? They only feed us so many meals a day, and if I puke…”
