by Tori Carson
A sharp kick to her ribs stole the breath from her body. Her head was slammed into the concrete floor again and again, sparing her from feeling the rest of the beating.
* * * *
Teague had the route mapped out in his brain. Long ago, he’d hacked into the personnel files and retrieved Donley’s home address. He’d driven past it a dozen times while Channy was staying there. He knew the security and had a plan to bypass it. He was going to have a private chat with the chief and it was not going to involve him and a jail cell. At least not until Channy was safe. Then he couldn’t have cared less.
The ride from Rio Rico to Phoenix even at the rate of speed he was driving was monotonous, broken up by moments of sheer terror when an idiot swerved across multiple lanes on a direct collision course with him. The bike handled well and maintained the high speed with ease.
He couldn’t think about Channy without breaking into a cold sweat, so his mind went over the details he’d discovered while investigating the Weasel. The coincidence was just too crazy. The deaths were all within an hour’s driving distance from Donley’s home address. How could that be? He moved often, as the responsibilities of the job demanded. Each time Donley moved, so did the Weasel. Was Donley the Weasel? He wouldn’t target his own child. Would he? Had Teague sent Channy directly into his clutches?
As if on autopilot, he maneuvered the bike around a photo radar sensor. He obviously wasn’t worried about getting a ticket, but he didn’t need the cops on his ass either. Maybe he should have risked the helicopter. While he was traveling at top speed, it was over roads not as the crow flew. With his stomach in knots, each minute he drove seemed like ten. At this hour the traffic was minimal, allowing his mind to drift into worst case scenario mode. As each possibility played out in his mind, his resolve to get the truth out of Donley strengthened.
* * * *
Chantel was hovering in and out of consciousness as Ed attached the manacles to the pulley and hoisted her into a standing position. The familiar ache in her arms and shoulder blades was barely noticeable after the beating she’d endured.
Ed’s incessant humming stopped, yet she knew he was near. Fear curled in the pit of her stomach. She felt his hand brush against her inner thighs. Every nerve ending went on alert. Terror pushed the pain aside, clearing her brain for a few precious moments.
“It’s come.”
His fanatical tone stood her hair on end.
“The cleansing blood is washing away your sins. Soon you will be ready for training. A few days then…”
Her eyes were nearly swollen shut. Shadows were all she could see. Yet she knew he was stroking himself.
The cage clanked shut and his humming began again. The hatch he used as a doorway scraped against the concrete as he opened then closed it again. Slowly, his humming faded into the distance.
For a few moments, she shook uncontrollably. Tears traveled down her face, onto her breasts and dripped onto her toes. Time was running out. She had already made up her mind. She would force him to kill her before she would submit to him. She prayed for strength to carry out her plan. Death was indeed the least of her worries.
* * * *
Night had fallen again. Teague blended smoothly with the shadows. He’d lived amongst them for so long he felt at home. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than a few minutes’ time. His body was beginning to feel the effects. His hand–eye coordination was definitely suffering. His reflexes were off, too. It didn’t matter. Donley was just a little too sure of himself. His home security was a joke.
Around the side of the house a window was cracked open. Donley apparently didn’t feel the need to arm the system if he was at home. Silly man.
His eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark. Silently, he slid the window wide enough to enter. Channy’s smell hit him first. A lingering hint of her perfume assailed his senses. His knees weakened, but his determination strengthened. The door to the hallway was open, hampering his freedom of movement.
Sounds confirmed that Donley was playing chess with his underling. While waiting, he quietly looked through the few items Channy had acquired since moving into her father’s home. He was reasonably sure that she hadn’t returned since he’d sent her away from the cabin.
Teague heard Donley exchanging pleasantries. A few moments later, the door clicked shut. A soft beep told him that the security system was armed. A bit too late to keep out this unwanted guest, old man. Hearing the shuffle of feet draw near, Teague slid under the bed to wait.
The old man paused in the doorway, flicked the light switch on and sat heavily on the bed. “Where is she? What have you done with her?” His voice was tight with emotion.
Chapter Sixteen
Teague stayed silent, hidden somewhat by the shadows. Donley seemed too preoccupied to realize he was there. He quickly scanned the room, assuring himself that everything was in its place.
“Shannon, I’ve failed you. Our little girl. So much like you. A zest for life. Strong willed.” A snort shook the bed. “Pig-headed really. Just like another young woman I knew.” From the reflection in the mirror, Teague could see Donley shake his head. “Dorothy was so much smarter. She knew how to keep you safe.”
Teague was beginning to feel sorry for Donley. Not a small thing considering the engrained hatred he had for him. He was willing to admit he might have shifted his self-condemnation to burning malice toward the old man. Anger was easier to deal with.
Inch by inch, Teague got into position. His feelings didn’t matter. Guilt or innocence didn’t matter. Only getting Channy to safety mattered.
“I tried to lay down the law to Chantel. Stupid really. Dorothy knew better. She knew not to try and keep us apart. It wouldn’t have worked. Instead, she did what she could to make our future stable. I still don’t know how she got me out of special forces. A man would like to think he had control of his destiny and that some eighty pound woman who would someday be his mother-in-law couldn’t boss around the military powers of the United States of America.” A chagrined look covered his face. “But he’d be wrong. She managed it.”
Teague heard a long, haggard sigh. Donley was adding to Teague’s misery with each passing moment. The old man pouring his heart out to his long-dead wife was getting to Teague, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
“I should have pulled four-six-two out. I should have moved heaven and earth to keep her safe like Dorothy did for you. For us, really.”
The springs on the bed groaned as Donley stood. Teague’s arm snaked out and toppled the chief. In the width of a breath, Donley was flipped on his back, his legs secured with a belt and a knife pressed to his carotid artery.
“Where’s my daughter?” Donley asked calmly, as if being assaulted in his own home was a daily occurrence.
“That’s what we’re gonna find out. And you’re gonna help me wade through the bureaucratic bullshit without creating any of your own.”
“Last time I talked to her, she was with you.” Donley glared with deadly menace, ignoring his disadvantaged position.
“When G.’s men were headed our way, I sent her home to you. So what happened to her?”
“I haven’t seen or heard from Chantel since she told me she was with you.”
“Have you checked the hospitals between here and the Kaibab Forest?”
“I’ve checked every hospital in the state.”
Teague’s mind was racing. “She wasn’t there when I was captured. She was already on her way to you. So, I ask again, where is she?”
“The last we heard from her was a cell phone conversation in which she stated, and I quote, ‘I’m with Reese’.”
Donley seemed to be telling the truth. It meshed with what Do-Rag had said and with what Teague knew to be true. So where in the hell was she?
“Get up slow and easy.” Teague stood in a crouch, his knife at the ready as he extracted a semi-auto pistol from his leg holster. Teague released the belt, allowing Donley to stand.
“You look a little worse for wear, four-six-two.”
He’d bet he did. Dried blood was still caked around his ear and down his neck where the asshole had shot him. How long ago had that been anyway? He had no idea. His wrists and ankles were chewed and bloodied from the tie wraps G.’s men had used. Assorted dirt and grease had garnished an already less than desirable package.
“My name is Teague Brodie. I’m a man, not a number. Specifically, the man in love with your daughter. More importantly, I’m the man she is in love with.” Teague glared into Donley’s eyes, waiting for a comeback. When none came, he continued, “Are you going to help me find her or not?”
“I’ve been doing nothing else since she ran off Friday night to be with you.”
“You keep saying that. You’ve got a lot to answer for, old man. Like why the hell she was allowed out without a team of bodyguards? Do you know something I don’t? Is there a reason why you’re not taking the Weasel threat seriously?” Teague waved Donley through the doorway and down the hall to his den.
“Believe me, I have taken everything concerning the Weasel seriously. How long have you two known each other? Have you ever been able to dissuade her once she has her mind set on something? If so, you’re a better man than I. She has always been headstrong and stubborn.” Donley moved to the red leather chair facing the fireplace.
Teague wasn’t ready to start answering questions about their relationship. It had happened too fast to make any sense to him. There was no way Donley would be able to make heads or tails of it. “None of that’s important right now. What have you learned from the surveillance equipment? Were you able to track the Weasel?”
“We don’t know that the Weasel is involved. The cartel might have picked her up. Tell me how you were captured.”
Teague shook his head. The old man didn’t want to face facts. Unless Channy was in a hospital somewhere, and that didn’t seem likely with every law enforcement agent in the nation searching for her, then the Weasel had to have her. “G.’s men knew nothing about her. Just seconds after she showed up at my house, the cartel came in guns blazing. Whether you care to believe it or not, the cartel had at least one stooge in the NBIA and the first law enforcement on the scene was NBIA. If Susie Homemaker heard the shots fired and called nine-one-one, shouldn’t it have been the local PD that showed up?”
“Sid was tracking her cell phone. He was alerted the moment it changed towers. Once he realized it wasn’t in the direction of home, he called me.” Donley shrugged, “I sent a couple of agents to check it out.”
That explained a few things. “Foster, my contact before the pinhead you stuck me with here, was dirty. In it up to his eyeballs. He’s the one who gave G.’s henchman, Sammy, the coordinates to the cabin where Channy and I were staying. I don’t know if he was lying to me or not. He seemed to have made it his life’s work to screw me over, but he swore Sammy and G. had his son.”
Donley did seem surprised to hear that Foster had been on the take. He nodded. “That answers a few questions,” he muttered.
“Foster’s dead. So are Sammy and G. If you can, you should try to find his boy. I rather doubt the cartel has him, but it is possible.”
“He’s in a safe house with his mother. She showed up at a local station house over a week ago. Foster went missing shortly after.”
“Apparently, when the last shipment was seized, Mr. G. went through the roof and intensified his search for me. Foster had been feeding G. information for years. Several of the attempts on my life, Foster had orchestrated. Due to their lack of success, Foster had outlived his usefulness. When Sammy and his goon squad came to the cabin, Foster had already been acquired.”
“How did he know where to find you? Earlier in the month, Foster tried to access your red flagged files. I spoke with him briefly. He was looking for you, but got nothing through the NBIA.”
Teague grumbled under his breath. It wasn’t easy admitting his error in judgment. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop seeing Channy if I stayed in this area. I was worried my contact here had something up his sleeve. So like an idiot, I contacted Foster asking to be transferred. I walked right into his hands. Once I made that call, he was able to track my movements through the cell phone.” Teague shook his head at his own stupidity. After the last attempt on his life, he’d suspected Foster of being in on it. Why hadn’t he trusted his gut?
“I had my doubts about him too. He was one of the reasons I moved you out here. I kept you under my purview so I could decide who had the need to know concerning your whereabouts.”
“When you transferred out here who came with you?”
“What are you asking?” Donley was instantly suspicious. “You just said you contacted Foster. What makes you suspect others?”
“Every Weasel victim was found within one hundred miles of your residence and you’ve had several residences during his crime spree.”
“You think I don’t know that? I recognized the pattern many years ago. The case had been in my lap when I was part of the FBI. It’s why the case went to the NBIA.” He shrugged. “Well, that and one of the victims was an undocumented worker.”
“I suspected you pulled a few strings to keep the case.” The FBI wasn’t known for giving away their investigations.
“No one from the agency transferred with me. I made sure of it.”
“Are you sure no one transferred with you? No one at all? Not even maintenance people or administrators?”
“Not a soul. I made sure of it.” Donley was adamant.
“What about someone who quit or retired?”
Donley jumped from his seat and headed for the desk. Teague beat him to it. With his weapon poised at Donley’s heart, Teague asked, “What are you doing?” It was entirely possible that Donley would have him locked up for killing G. and Sammy. He’d admitted that he’d gone there for the sole purpose of committing murder.
“Knock that shit off.” Donley waved in the direction of the pistol. “We both want Chantel back. I’m reasonably convinced you don’t have her secured somewhere. Samuel already gave me his report.”
“Was that your man in the compound?”
“Yes. I believe you called him Do-Rag.”
Teague holstered his weapon. “Just so we are clear on this, I will use any means available to me to remain out of custody until Channy is retrieved.”
Donley nodded once and went to the phone. While he outlined the computer search to Sid, Teague helped himself to a bottle of water from Donley’s wet bar.
“You really look like shit, Teague. Why don’t you grab a shower and I’ll find us something to eat?”
Teague didn’t trust Donley and half expected him to call in the cavalry the minute he turned his back, but his exhaustion was beginning to be a problem. Sleep was out of the question. Maybe a shower would clear his head. Besides, he could smell himself.
“For what it’s worth, I think you are the best hope we have of getting Chantel back. We need to work together on this.” Donley walked past him down the hall and pushed the door to the bathroom open. “Fresh towels are in the cupboard.”
Knowing that he was probably making yet another mistake, he went through the door.
* * * *
The sound of the door opening set her heart pounding. She had fallen asleep. The horrific images of those poor, tortured women forever engraved in her brain played out before her eyes again. He had told her to face the camera with her eyes open. She had fallen asleep. She knew she had.
Her stomach knotted as the door creaked open. The manacles and chains clinked together as she shook uncontrollably. Could she do it? Could she force him to kill her? She thought about it constantly.
“It stinks in here. Your sins are even worse than I imagined. It is right that you be punished.”
He began that creepy humming again. Pop! Goes the Weasel. Over and over. Chantel had the melody stuck in her brain night and day. To keep from losing her mind, she tried to analyze it. Mayb
e the words held the key to this sick world Ed had created.
Her vision was returning slowly from the last beating she’d endured. She could see Ed through her peripheral vision. He was working near the wall. Fear was a constant companion. Shouldn’t it fade with familiarity?
It hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. Each time she heard the sounds of him entering her hellhole, a fresh, almost incapacitating panic seized her. Sometimes he completely ignored her. He would hum to himself, like he was doing now.
Other times he spoke to her. That was the worst. It was like wading through a landmine field. More often than not, she stumbled, said the wrong thing, and was beaten for it.
“Remember that German Shepherd you had?”
She’d never had a pet. Had she? Throughout this ordeal, Chantel had feared insanity. She recognized that it wasn’t out of the question at this point. Was he right? Had she had a dog? She didn’t think so. Was this another trick?
Ed spun around. His eyes squinted as he stared her down.
“No, I don’t remember.” She tensed, waiting for retribution.
He shrugged and turned back around to his work. “She went into heat and made a mess all over your apartment.”
Chantel knew he was confusing her with someone else. The only apartment she’d had was in college and she knew that she hadn’t owned a dog while in college.
“You had a fit. Screaming and ranting like you do. Never thinking of anyone else. Just bitch, bitch, bitch. You wanted me to take her outside and hose her off even though it was freezing outdoors. You were always a cold bitch when it came to others’ suffering. How does it feel to have the tables turned?”
She decided to remain silent. He was coming toward her with something in his arms. If she looked at him straight on, he would punish her. It was disgusting how her life had been reduced to a set of rules created by a madman. In her mind, she waffled back and forth between standing up for her human rights and trying to lull him into making a mistake.
