Safe at Hawk's Landing

by Rita Herron

  “I know you paint,” Mrs. Hawk told Charlotte. “You’re probably missing your art right now.”

  “I am,” Charlotte said. “But nothing matters except finding those students.”

  Mrs. Hawk covered Charlotte’s hand with her own. “If anyone can find them, my boys can.”

  The pride in the woman’s voice touched Charlotte. “I know you’re proud of them.”

  “I am. I let them down years ago when my daughter went missing, but they rallied around me and kept me strong.”

  “They’re lucky to have you,” Charlotte said and meant it.

  A strained silence passed. “I wasn’t always so nice to Honey,” she said. “I thank God every day that she forgave me and that she’s in Harrison’s life. Nothing makes me happier than to know he’s finally happy.”

  “Spoken like the best of mothers.”

  “Not the best, but I try.” She took Charlotte’s hand. “I’d like to show you something.”

  Charlotte stiffened. “But you know—”

  “That you lost your sight temporarily? Yes.”

  “It might not be temporary.”

  “Keep the faith, Charlotte. Sometimes life gives us things we don’t think we can handle, but through it we find other precious gifts.”

  Charlotte wanted to believe her, but worry for her students robbed her of words.

  “Come on. Please.”

  Charlotte nodded. What else could she do?

  She stood and allowed the woman to lead her into another room. A cool breeze fluttered through the window bringing the scent of fall.

  “What is this room?” Charlotte said.

  “It’s my secret room,” Mrs. Hawk said.

  Charlotte wrinkled her brow.

  “I haven’t shown it to my sons,” Mrs. Hawk continued. “It...was my therapy the last few years.”

  “Like my painting is for my students,” Charlotte said.

  “Exactly.” Mrs. Hawk led her to a table and placed her hands on top of a hard mound. It felt like clay.

  “Tell me what you think,” Mrs. Hawk said, a sheepish note to her tone.

  Charlotte hesitated, but it seemed important to the woman, so she gingerly ran her fingers over the oval shape. It was a bust.

  Her heart squeezed as she traced her fingers over the heart-shaped face. A young girl’s face. Pigtails. Ribbons in her hair.

  “It’s your daughter,” Charlotte said, touched that she’d shared it with her.

  “It is,” Mrs. Hawk said. “This may be forward of me, but I thought since you couldn’t paint right now, you might like to try the clay.”

  Charlotte chewed her bottom lip. She hadn’t considered another art medium. And how could she possibly make something art-worthy when she couldn’t see what she was doing?

  “No one ever has to see it,” Mrs. Hawk said as if she’d read her thoughts. “I don’t show my pieces. But doing it connects me to Chrissy. And I love working with the clay.”

  “Are you working on something now?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes, it’s a surprise for Harrison and Honey’s baby. There’s space at the table if you’d like to try. You don’t have to make anything with it. For a long time I just pounded out my anger and frustration.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “If you could see the walls, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  Charlotte reached out her hands. “Thank you for sharing. I...might give it a try.”

  Mrs. Hawk guided her to another chair and a clump of clay.

  Charlotte gently touched it then settled in the chair and began to pound it with her fist.

  * * *

  THE AUCTION WAS set to take place in the basement of a nightclub called The Silver Bullet, a trendy hot spot for young musicians and groups flocking to Austin.

  Newbies wanting to be discovered started out at open-mic night at a neighboring place called the Cactus Café, then built an audience and reputation and earned bookings here.

  Inside, dim lights created a bluesy feel and the walls showcased pictures of local artists who’d made it big. A corkboard at the entryway had flyers advertising upcoming acts and appearances of artists at other venues.

  The band tonight, a country rock group who called themselves The Bullhorns, was in full swing.

  It seemed an odd atmosphere for a sex-trafficking room, which made Lucas wonder if the owners had any idea what was going on in the space beneath them.

  Lucas and Dexter made their way to the bar, fending off smiles from interested women. Truth was, Lucas didn’t see anyone as attractive or interesting as Charlotte.

  Dexter paused to flirt a little. Then again, that was his little brother’s style.

  Dexter had never met a person he couldn’t talk to or charm.

  Lucas leaned against the bar, waiting for Dexter to give him the signal that they could go downstairs.

  His brother deftly sidled up to a dark-haired, olive-skinned man, who spoke to him in a low voice.

  Dexter flicked his thumb, signaling Lucas to follow. He forced nonchalant smiles at a few of the women he passed, hoping to blend in. But he’d never been a ladies man.

  The dark-haired man led them down a hallway past the restrooms, then through a sliding door that probably went unnoticed to most. It was dark inside, but the man used his phone to light the way down a stairwell to another hall with several rooms on each side.

  He opened one door and gestured for them to enter.

  “You both have bidding numbers at your space,” the man said. “The bidding starts in five minutes.”

  Anger coiled in Lucas’s belly, but he managed a sly grin. “Thanks.”

  Dexter’s expression was grim as they each located their designated chairs and took seats to watch the show unfold on the computer screen.

  Tension knotted every muscle in Lucas’s body. He and Dexter had planned a strategy earlier.

  They’d bid on the girls then call in reinforcements to make the arrests once they had the girls in sight.

  It was possible the Shetland ring was holding the girls in another location. They’d secure payment, then deliver the merchandise.

  He rolled his shoulders, checked his assigned number, then braced himself to play the part of an interested buyer as two men led a group of young girls across a stage.

  “Promising,” Dexter said beneath his breath in case the room was bugged. These men were professionals and might be monitoring the clients, looking for a possible setup.

  Lucas’s pulse jumped as the girls were told to look up at the camera.

  It was Charlotte’s students.

  The sisters—Adrian and Agnes—clung to each other, both bleary-eyed with drugs. The other, Mae Lynn, stumbled, her face as pale as a ghost.

  She wasn’t holding up well. She looked drugged or...in shock.

  He had to do something.

  But one of the girls was missing. The one Charlotte called Evie.

  Where the hell was she?

  Chapter Nineteen

  As soon as he’d learned the location of the auction, Lucas had spoken with Keenan and they’d set up a trace to search for possible phone or internet connections to the men holding the auction.

  Backup was on standby, surveilling the club and surrounding area. He wanted eyes on the streets looking for a van or other vehicle that might be used to transport the kidnap victims.

  A voice, smooth and polished, came over the speaker and introduced the first girl to be auctioned. He and Dexter exchanged conspiratorial looks.

  This one was Adrian. A second later, the same voice relayed that her sister came with her—two for the price of one?

  A bargain deal for someone wanting more excitement, or to have an extra girl to share.

  The bidding began at $100,000. Dexter jumped in at $125,000. Lucas gritted
his teeth and watched the girls hover together. They had been forced to change into sexy, tight outfits to accentuate the female curves still in the infancy stage.

  The bidding increased, jumping back and forth from Dexter to another man, then Dexter upped the bid by offering $250,000.

  He won the bid.

  “When your wire transfer is complete, we will deliver your merchandise.”

  It took every ounce of Lucas’s effort to maintain a cool expression when he was seething inside.

  Agnes cried and gripped her sister’s arm as a big man in black escorted them from the stage. The camera was careful not to show the man’s face.

  Next the man dragged a catatonic-looking Mae Lynn onto the stage. The poor girl looked as if she’d vanished into a world of her own. Someone had made an attempt to comb her hair and apply a little makeup and lipstick, and they’d dressed her in a glittery tube top and black spandex skirt that barely covered her essentials.

  She stumbled when the man released her arm and swayed on stiletto heels that made her look tall and thin.

  She was obviously drugged. Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot. A wide silver bracelet dangled from her arm—it was clearly an attempt by the kidnappers to hide the bruising from the ties that had kept her prisoner.

  The auctioneer spoke again, and another male voice started the bid at $50,000. Lucas waited patiently as the man who’d bid on the sisters offered a higher bid. They went back and forth for a few minutes.

  When Lucas sensed they were about to end it, he jumped in with a higher bid at $150,000.

  The auctioneer tried to push the bidding higher, but the other men declined. Lucas had just bought Mae Lynn.

  The auctioneer assured the other two bidders that he had more merchandise on the way and would keep them informed regarding the next auction.

  Cameras inside the room prevented Lucas from checking his phone, but he hoped Keenan had traced the origin of the auctioneer.

  “Transfer the money now, gentlemen,” the auctioneer said. “Once we have confirmation, you’ll receive word where to pick up your purchases.”

  The dehumanizing language the man used made Lucas’s skin crawl.

  But he and Dexter used their phones to complete the transactions. Keenan had arranged dummy profiles and bank accounts in advance.

  Silence descended as he and Dexter waited.

  Five minutes later, the transfers appeared to be complete.

  “You should receive notification momentarily as to where you can collect your merchandise.”

  Just as the man said, a second later, a text appeared on Lucas’s phone with an address.

  He glanced at Dexter, who nodded, confirming that he’d received instructions as well.

  They filed from the room, both feigning cool smiles as they continued to play the role.

  The hallway was dimly lit, and the man who’d escorted them to the private room was following, a gun tucked into the holster inside his jacket. He escorted them out a bottom door which led to an alley.

  Outside the club, it was dark. Lucas and Dexter quickly circled to the front, both alert in case they were going to be ambushed in the alley.

  Patrons parked and headed to the front entrance. Loud music boomed from the speakers, the perfect cover to disguise a cry for help if one of the girls attempted to escape.

  He kept his eyes trained, scanning the lot in search of the girls, but as he suspected, he didn’t see them.

  The men were smart. They kept the girls isolated and tucked away for safekeeping in case the auction turned into a setup.

  He and Dexter got in the car and Dexter directed him to the warehouse district, where several abandoned buildings sat, desperate for renovation.

  Lucas’s lungs squeezed for air as he parked. Seconds later, a black van pulled up by the warehouse.

  Dexter tensed, his body braced for trouble. Lucas slid one hand over his weapon. He was ready.

  The van door opened and out stepped one of the kidnappers.

  Another man in black, armed and muscular, slid from the passenger side, a semiautomatic in his hands.

  One of their hired thugs.

  The driver walked around to the back of the van and opened the door.

  Lucas and Dexter eased from the car, their expressions neutral, guns hidden. They maintained the facade of the interested buyers they’d posed as.

  The man with the semi aimed it at them, warning them to say stay back. Lucas held up his hands in a surrender gesture. Dexter folded his arms and leaned against the car, his look nonchalant.

  Just another day of buying and selling innocent girls.

  Satisfied they were compliant, the driver reached inside the van and dragged Mae Lynn from the back. Next came Adrian and Agnes.

  The sisters were trembling, terrified. Mae Lynn looked completely numb.

  “Thank you for doing business with us,” the driver said.

  He shoved the girls forward, and Lucas caught Mae Lynn before she hit the ground. Dexter swept the sisters into the back of the SUV, then grinned at the men as if to indicate he was pleased.

  Lucas helped a trembling, weak-kneed Mae Lynn into the back of the SUV, too.

  He leaned into the car and whispered. “FBI. We’re here to help you. Stay down.”

  The girls looked at him wide-eyed. He gently shoved Mae Lynn’s head down to her knees.

  “Trust me. We’re going to arrest them.”

  The youngest sister choked out a cry, then her sister wrapped her arm around her and pushed her head down as well.

  Lucas shut the door, then turned just as the driver and man with the gun were getting inside their van.

  He spoke into his mic, alerting the backup team at the club that they could move. Keenan had warrants ready.

  Then he shouted at the driver. “Wait, man, there’s one more thing.”

  The animal turned to him, suspicion flaring while the brute with the gun aimed it at Dexter.

  Before the man could shoot, Dexter drew and fired at him.

  Then bullets started flying.

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE ROLLED AND shaped and pounded the clay, uncertain what she was doing, but working with the clay relaxed her and distracted her from her current situation.

  First she crafted juvenile things—a snake, a bowl, a teacup—to simply learn the feel of the clay and how to mold it in her hands.

  Then she made a big ball, and tried to shape the face of the man who’d shot her.

  She made a large oval shape—was his face oval? No, he had a square jaw, beefy neck, wide head... Or was that the other man?

  The mask had covered their faces. Really all she’d noticed were those tattoos...

  Frustrated, she rolled the clay back into one big ball again and pounded with her fists, working out her frustrations and anger.

  Mrs. Hawk’s footsteps, lighter than Lucas’s, echoed on the wood floor. She also smelled of lavender. “You probably didn’t like the first painting you did, either, did you?”

  Charlotte twisted her mouth in thought. “I guess not,” she admitted.

  “What was the first thing you painted?”

  “The ocean, but it was a dark stormy day, and it came out looking like a sea monster was rising from the waves.”

  “Maybe that’s how you saw the world then,” Mrs. Hawk said.

  Charlotte smiled. Odd how she talked to her students the same way. “You’re sure you aren’t a therapist?” Charlotte said with a small laugh.

  Mrs. Hawk rubbed her shoulder. “I spent a lot of time on the receiving side of therapy. Maybe I learned something.”

  “Thank you for sharing your hobby,” Charlotte said.

  “Only another artist could understand.” She hesitated. “Although, I’m not going to tell you that I understand what it’s like to l
ose your vision, I’ll help you however I can.”

  “I miss seeing people’s faces, their expressions. It helps me understand them.”

  “Body language is important. But you’re probably picking up nuances in tone and people’s movements now that you never noticed before.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “But I still miss the colors.” Emotions welled in her throat. “I’m afraid that I’ll forget what the different shades and textures look like.”

  “You won’t,” Mrs. Hawk said quietly.

  Charlotte soaked in her comforting words, then ran her fingers over the clay again.

  “I’d better check on dinner,” Mrs. Hawk said.

  “It smells heavenly,” Charlotte said and meant it because it smelled like home.

  “It’s just my chili and jalapeno cornbread,” Mrs. Hawk said. “It’s simple, but all my boys love it.”

  Footsteps echoed again, this time going softer as the seconds passed, signaling that Lucas’s mother had left the room.

  An image of Lucas’s handsome, strong face flashed behind her eyes. She was grateful she’d seen a picture of him before she’d lost her sight.

  The day she’d run her fingers over his face had ingrained his features into her mind as well.

  Taking a deep breath, she felt the clay again. This time she began to shape Lucas’s face.

  * * *

  LUCAS’S SECOND SHOT hit the man with the semi in the abdomen while Dexter tangled with the driver.

  The brute with the semi dropped to the ground, then fired at Lucas. Lucas dodged the bullet, then fired again. This time he caught the man square in the forehead. He dropped face-forward into the dirt.

  The driver shoved Dexter to the ground then staggered toward the van to escape. Dexter fired at him and caught him in the back of his knee.

  The man fell with a howl of pain but kept crawling to the van. Lucas rushed him and jammed his pistol into the driver’s temple.

  “Give me a reason to finish it,” Lucas growled.

  The man went still. A second later, he swung his fist out to push Lucas’s gun away. The gun flew upward, a bullet was released, then pinged the side of the van.

  Lucas punched the man in the jaw before he could react, then brought the butt of his weapon down and slammed it against the bastard’s head.