by Rita Herron
If this trafficking ring was international, as he suspected, sooner or later something had to break.
He stopped at a convenience store and bought her a burner phone, keeping his eye on the vehicle from inside as he paid.
She was still asleep when he climbed inside and started the engine. Although even in sleep, turmoil strained her features, and the bruise on her forehead looked stark.
The quiet strength emanating from her twisted his insides, though, and he phoned the vision therapist and left a message that Charlotte would be home soon.
An hour later, Charlotte roused from sleep as he pulled into her driveway. “We’re here.”
She heaved a wary breath, her body stiffening as if she dreaded going inside.
“One step at a time,” he said softly. “Just take it one step at a time.”
She nodded and reached for the door.
* * *
CHARLOTTE STOOD BY the SUV, nerves fluttering through her. She’d parked in her drive a hundred times, but today she was disoriented.
This is your home. You helped build it, you know the layout. You’ve made happy memories here.
She’d loved watching the sunset over the back deck, had hung ferns on the front porch. There were three, or was it four, steps leading to the front porch?
The idea of finding her way to the front door suddenly seemed daunting.
“The vision-rehabilitation therapist will be here in a few minutes.” Lucas lifted her hand and placed it on his arm. “Are you ready to go in?”
Was she? No.
But she would learn to adapt.
“Yes.”
He patted her hand, and she curled her fingers around his arm, her stomach fluttering as she felt the muscles in his biceps. He guided her to the porch, pointing out a loose rock and an uneven patch of grass as they walked.
“Your house is beautiful,” Lucas said. “Did you choose the blue paint color?”
Charlotte smiled as she remembered the conversation with Honey. She wanted a pale blue like the ocean. “Yes. Blue is my favorite color.”
“I like the porch and porch swing,” Lucas said. “It looks very homey.”
“Honey did a great job remodeling the place,” Charlotte said. “There’s a back deck, too. A good place to watch the sunset.”
Except now she wouldn’t be able to see the sun setting or rising.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding Evie, Mae Lynn, Agnes and Adrian.
“We’re at the steps,” Lucas said.
Charlotte nodded, carefully feeling her way. One step. Two. Three.
“Last one,” Lucas said.
“You must have done this before,” she said, appreciating his patience.
“No. If I was in your shoes, I’d be pissed right now.”
“I am,” she said. “But it’s taking all my energy not to fall apart.” And not to fall all over him. But she bit back that thought.
He chuckled. “I’ll try to keep you from falling.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Charlotte said, one hand on the rail. “Just find my students and bring them home safely.”
“I’ll do my best.” He paused and she realized they were at the door. Harrison had given Honey her purse from the studio, and Honey had brought it to the hospital so Charlotte fished out her keys and handed them to Lucas.
The wind picked up, ruffling her hair and stirring the wind chimes. They tinkled and clanged, music to her ears. She imagined leaves raining down to the ground, the fall colors swirling.
The sound of the door opening dragged her from her thoughts. Charlotte froze, listening for other sounds inside, determined to orient herself. The entryway led to an open-concept living room with an island and kitchen decorated in blues and whites. She’d positioned her sectional sofa facing the fireplace. French doors led to the porch.
“It’s nice,” Lucas said. “You have a talent with color. I like the abstract on the wall above the sofa. Did you paint it?”
“I did, I was excited over finally having a home of my own.”
“It shows in the splashes of color,” Lucas said.
She gave a sarcastic laugh. “Now everything is black.”
A tense heartbeat passed and she regretted her comment. She hadn’t meant to complain.
“Don’t give up hope,” Lucas murmured. “The doctor said it’ll take time for your body to heal.”
Outside, a car engine rumbled. “Who is that?”
“Probably the vision therapist,” Lucas said. “I’ll let her in.”
“Thanks.” She envisioned the furniture placement and felt along the wall until her leg bumped the sofa. She raked her fingers along the edge until she found her favorite spot.
She sank into the cushions, exhausted and terrified of her new life.
* * *
LUCAS’S PHONE BUZZED just as the vision-rehabilitation therapist entered the house. She was a brunette with a warm smile named Rebecca.
He escorted her inside and over to the sofa, where Charlotte was sitting. “I need to take a call. I’ll be on the front porch.”
“We’ll be fine. We have a lot of work to do to make Charlotte feel at home here again,” Rebecca said.
The strain on Charlotte’s face made his gut clench. “Let me know if you need anything.”
She nodded and quickly turned to Charlotte.
He checked the message. Keenan.
Hoping she had a lead, he stepped outside and quickly returned her call.
“I traced an IP address from a computer to the Summerton girl’s laptop,” Keenan said.
“Who does it belong to?” Lucas asked.
“The computer leads to a banker in Tumbleweed. Fifty-year-old Herman Stanley.” She paused. “Lucas, Charlotte Reacher got the loan for her studio at that bank.”
Lucas’s mind raced. The banker in town had access to money, knew the comings and goings of the business leaders in town. Knew Charlotte personally. He’d also know how to hide money if he was being paid to provide information to the trafficking ring.
He checked his watch. The bank would be closed now. “Send me his home address.”
“It’s on its way.”
They ended the call, then Lucas phoned Harrison to fill him in. “Bronson can guard Charlotte while we talk to Stanley,” Harrison said.
Lucas agreed. If Stanley had intentionally set up Charlotte’s studio for attack, he would make sure he paid big-time.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucas rushed to tell Charlotte and her therapist he needed to follow a lead. They were counting the steps from the sofa to the kitchen.
A pang went through him. Charlotte shouldn’t be suffering like this.
“I have to check out a lead, Charlotte.” He turned to Rebecca. “How long will you be here?”
“A couple of hours,” Rebecca said. “We’re making progress.”
“Bronson is on his way over to watch the house,” he said. “Stay inside, Charlotte, and keep away from the windows.”
The therapist looked alarmed for a moment. “I’ll close all the shutters.”
“Let me check all the locks on the windows first.” Lucas combed through the house, checking the security aspects. Harrison had said that Honey installed dead bolts on all the doors in her houses. She’d wanted to add a security system but had left that decision up to the owners.
He examined the windows and made sure each one was locked, then returned to the living room. “You should have a security system installed right away, Charlotte. Do you want me to set it up?”
A tense second. “I suppose that would help.”
Lucas left his card on the table by the front door. “If you need anything, Rebecca, call me.”
Rebecca handed him a business card with her number on it as well. “Don’t worry, Age
nt Hawk. I’ll take care of her.”
“Charge up her phone and put my number in so she can easily find it.”
“I will. And I’ll make sure it’s voice-activated so she can call whoever she wants,” Rebecca said.
“Deputy Bronson should be here any minute. I’ll wait outside until he arrives.”
He stepped out front just as Bronson pulled up. “Thanks for coming, Deputy.”
The deputy gave a quick look around the property. “How’s the access in the rear?”
“Back deck with a door to the inside. All the windows are locked and so is the dead bolt on the back door. I’m going to arrange for a security system to be installed.”
Lucas jumped in his SUV and drove to the sheriff’s office to pick up Harrison. “I have the warrant,” Harrison said as he climbed in the passenger side.
Lucas plugged the address into his GPS and drove through town, then followed the road to the lake where the banker lived.
“What do you know about Herman Stanley?” Lucas asked.
Harrison grimaced. “He’s a shrewd businessman. He practically ran the home owners in Lower Tumbleweed into foreclosure. Collected on all the debts and made himself a small fortune.”
“Did he give Honey a hard time when she bought the property?”
Harrison’s mouth tilted into a smile. “Yeah, he wanted her to work through him, but she didn’t trust him. She found backing from an investor she’d worked with in Austin.”
“Good for her.”
Harrison nodded, his smile fading into a grim line as Lucas wove down the tree-lined drive to Stanley’s estate home. The house was a large brick Georgian complete with columns, a circular drive and ranchland that stretched for miles and miles. A swimming pool and tennis court were visible from the driveway.
A black Cadillac sat in the drive along with a white Mercedes and a sleek gray BMW convertible.
Lucas parked in the circular drive, and he and Harrison walked to the door. A loud chime echoed through the house and exterior as Harrison punched the doorbell.
Night had descended and the sky was dark with storm clouds, obliterating the stars and moon. Looking up at the black night made him think of Charlotte and how difficult it would be to live in the dark.
The door opened, and a short, rail-thin lady in a maid’s uniform answered the door. “Stanley residence. How may I help you?”
Harrison gestured to his badge, and Lucas flashed his credentials. “We need to talk to Mr. Stanley.”
“I’m afraid he’s not here. Do you want me to give him a message?”
“Where is he?” Lucas asked.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “In Austin on business.”
Harrison pushed the warrant in her hands. “We need to look around.”
The maid gasped. “What’s going on?”
“Hilda,” Lucas said as he read her name tag, “we have reason to believe Mr. Stanley may be involved in the disappearance of a young girl named Louise Summerton, and possibly the kidnapping that occurred in Tumbleweed. Do you know anything about that?”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously.
“If you know something about his business and the missing girls, tell us. If you don’t, and we find out you lied to us, you’ll go to jail as an accomplice.”
* * *
CHARLOTTE FORCED HERSELF to concentrate on the tips Rebecca offered. They mapped out the interior of her house, giving her a mental picture of where everything was placed. Rebecca provided her with a cane to help her maneuver the rooms, and she counted steps from each piece of furniture to the next.
Together she and Rebecca organized her bathroom toiletries so she could locate her toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush and towels.
Even the simplest task seemed overwhelming. She’d made so many mistakes already that her head was spinning. The first thing she’d done when she tried to maneuver the kitchen was break a glass.
Rebecca suggested plastic glasses at first to help prevent breakage, and Charlotte agreed.
“You’re doing great, Charlotte,” Rebecca said. “I realize this may be overwhelming at first. You can’t learn everything in a day, but you’ve made a lot of progress.”
Charlotte sank onto the sofa with a cup of hot tea Rebecca had made for her and sipped it. “I used to love to cook, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable using the stove or oven. What if I catch something on fire?”
“One step at a time,” Rebecca said. “I was told that your sight loss might be temporary. You may not need to learn to use the oven, but if you do, we’ll master it.”
“You’re so positive,” Charlotte said. “How long have you been doing this?”
“About five years. But I grew up with a blind sister, so I already understood the complications of living without sight and how important it is to keep your environment in order. You’ll have to tell people not to move your furniture or your remote or the contents of your cabinets. Once, I wasn’t thinking and left a tube of antibiotic ointment on the bathroom counter. My sister mistook it for toothpaste. I felt terrible afterward.”
“You sound like an amazing sister,” Charlotte said.
“My sister is the amazing one. Not only is she self-sufficient, she teaches visually impaired children.”
“It must be nice to have a close family,” Charlotte said.
“It is.” Rebecca hesitated. “How about you? Do you have parents or siblings close by?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, I grew up in the system. That’s the reason I chose to work with the teenagers through my art studio.”
Another awkward moment passed. “I’m sorry about what happened. But it sounds like the sheriff and Agent Hawk are doing everything they can to find the man who shot you and abducted your students.”
“They are.” Charlotte took another sip of her tea. She just hoped it was enough.
“Tomorrow I’ll come back and help you organize your cabinets and pantry. We can also tag your clothing so you can pair items that match.”
Charlotte nodded. “Maybe I should just buy twenty white T-shirts and jeans so I don’t have to worry about confusing them.”
Rebecca laughed softly. “That’s an idea. But judging from the gorgeous artwork on your walls and your dishes, I think you like color.”
“What difference will it make if I can’t see it?”
Rebecca’s breathing rattled in the air, and the sofa cushion dipped as the woman sat down next to her. Charlotte startled when Rebecca took her hand, then placed it over her heart. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal and a shock, Charlotte. But you are still the same loving, kind person who likes art and colors and who devoted her life to those teenagers. Nothing can change that. Not the kidnapping or the shooting. Not even the loss of your sight.” She paused. “So keep fighting, okay?”
Charlotte’s throat clogged with emotion. She bit down on her lip, hating that she was on the verge of tears.
“Promise me,” Rebecca said.
Charlotte laid her free hand over Rebecca’s and nodded. “I promise.”
“Good. Now, you have to be exhausted. So let’s get your room and you prepared for the night before I leave. I can also set up your coffeepot so you can make coffee in the morning.”
Nerves mingled with relief. Lucas had said he’d stay over, but she didn’t want to depend on him. She wanted to do things for herself. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”
They spent the next half hour practicing how she would manage coffee and breakfast, then Rebecca helped her think through her clothing arrangement so she could find her pajamas, and clothing for the next day.
“It helps that you’re already organized,” Rebecca told her.
“I guess it’s a control thing,” Charlotte said. Although now she felt totally out of control and she didn’t
like it.
Rebecca’s phone buzzed. Charlotte heard her step away, then she returned a moment later. “I have to go.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I promised my sister I’d pick her up.” She squeezed Charlotte’s hand again. “You’re going to be okay. I promise. I’ll make sure that deputy is still outside.”
Charlotte forced a smile, but inside her nerves kicked in. Rebecca’s footsteps echoed across the wood floor, then the front door shut. The sudden silence enveloped her, igniting her fears.
Don’t panic. Remember what she taught you.
Exhaustion tugged at her, and she took a deep breath and decided to put on her pajamas. Outside, an engine rumbled. Rebecca leaving.
She used her cane and counted the steps to her bathroom, then washed her face and looked where she knew the mirror hung. How many times as a kid had she stared at that port-wine birthmark and wished it gone?
Now it was gone, but since she couldn’t see herself, it didn’t matter.
But the scars and ugly taunts she’d received from kids still reverberated in her head. Those taunts had shaped her. Changed her.
Just like the shooting and her vision loss would.
Determined to stay strong, she stretched out on her bed to rest while she waited for Lucas to return.
Seconds later, she fell into a fitful sleep. The men were storming her studio, the girls were screaming, she was trying to save them but she was bleeding...
She jerked awake, her breathing erratic, then heard a noise outside. A car?
No...a loud thump. Then low voices.
Voices... Men’s voices. Not the deputy’s or Lucas’s or Harrison’s.
Terrified, she reached for her phone. Rebecca had set certain numbers on speed dial for her, so she pressed the number for the deputy. A second later, the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
He wasn’t answering.
Another noise.
Heart pounding, she clutched her phone to her chest. She had to call Lucas. But first she needed to hide.
She and Rebecca had practiced how to get to her den and the kitchen. But the best place to hide was the attic.
She gripped her cane in one hand and slid off the bed, then counted the steps to the hall.
