The stench of the bathroom reached her before they arrived. The utilities were off, and there was no running water to flush the waste. She suppressed a shudder as he shoved her into the small cubicle. She knew better than to shut the door. She tried that yesterday, and he had pulled her out and slammed her onto the concrete floor hard enough to give her a concussion.
She kept her eyes on the floor and held her breath. Spiders and dead black bugs littered the ground. Her chin trembled and she swallowed back tears.
He didn’t touch her other than to grab her arm and shove her back into the closet. Jaci breathed a sigh of relief when he shoved her back inside. He took Amanda next. Jaci sat in numb silence in the closet, counting the minutes. Then the door opened and he threw Amanda inside.
Jaci blinked in the darkness. “Did he . . . ?”
“No. You?”
“No.” Same as the day before. A trip to the bathroom without any touchy fingers. Jaci exhaled in relief, though her head still pounded from the anxiety.
“They didn’t catch Sara,” Amanda said.
“No. Or she’d be here.”
“Unless she’s with him.”
The Hand. “No,” Jaci said. “She got away. Maybe she called the police.”
Amanda laughed derisively. “She won’t call the police. She’s too scared.”
Who would she call besides the police? The FBI? Did Sara trust anyone? Jaci looked up, her hand shooting to the back pocket of her jeans. “What about that detective?” The business card was still there. She fingered it.
“Yeah. Maybe she’ll call him.”
Jaci shuddered. “We need to get rid of these.”
“I don’t think he’s going to ask us to empty our pockets, Jaci.”
He should have, Jaci thought. What if they had happened to have a cell phone on them? Why didn’t they have cell phones on them? Pagers? GPS embedded into their arms? “They can still search us.”
“They’ll find more than just business cards, then.”
Jaci’s stomach tightened. Amanda still had the necklace. “You didn’t give it to the FBI?”
Amanda gave a soft laugh. “Irony. I was waiting until we arrived at our final location. But it might be a good bargaining chip now.”
“Yeah, if they don’t realize it’s on you.”
“Maybe I’ll eat it.”
“No! What if they figured it out? They’d cut you open to get it!”
“We shouldn’t talk about it.” Her voice became softer. “Someone might hear.”
Jaci went rigid, straining her ears to hear outside the closet.
Amanda had given her an idea, though. Jaci took the business card from her pocket and laid it by the sliver of light coming in under the door. She could just make out Detective Hamilton’s cell phone number. She mouthed the numbers to herself over and over again until they were seared into her mind. She closed her eyes, seeing the numbers imprinted on her eyelids. Then she ripped the card up and stuck the pieces in her mouth.
“That hungry?”
“No.” Jaci swallowed the fibrous lumps of paper. “Getting rid of evidence.”
Amanda didn’t say anything, but a moment later she pulled out her business card and chewed off the corners, then ate the whole thing. “Not bad. Kind of salty.”
The light under the door faded with the approach of evening. Just as Jaci’s hope for food began to disappear, she felt the vibrations on the solid concrete floor.
Different steps. She sat up straighter and poked Amanda with her foot.
“I hear it,” Amanda whispered.
Voices drew nearer. The closet door opened.
Jaci blinked in the gray twilight coming through the window. “The Hand.” The words left her mouth in a hushed whisper.
The Hand’s sharp blue eyes surveyed her and Amanda. The confidence in his eyes had been replaced by a cold wildness that bordered desperation.
His lip twisted up in a fake smile. “Yes, it’s me. Unfortunate for you that we meet again. Come on.”
The Creep stepped forward to grab them, but The Hand interrupted.
“They’ll come. You don’t have to drag them.”
Jaci took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. They really didn’t have any other choice. If she sat on the ground and refused to move, the creepy guy would be forced to lay hands on her.
The Hand walked out of the room. The Creep leered at them.
The same navy blue SUV sat in the middle of the warehouse. The Hand opened the door to the back seat. “Get in.”
Jaci climbed up and hesitated when she spotted the thick bulky man inside, leaning against the other door. She couldn’t even think of him as big; he was bigger than big. Not grande, but grandón, she thought. She was pretty sure he had been blond before, but now he had shaved his head. Hatred flashed in his eyes, and he clenched his fists.
“Go,” The Hand said, a note of impatience in his voice.
She pulled herself up, trembling a little.
Amanda crawled in next. “Where are we going?”
“Heads down,” he replied.
Heads down? Before she could question the order, the Grandón grabbed her head and shoved it between her legs. She yelped and pushed his hands off. “Okay, I got it! I’ll keep my head down.” His hand only squeezed her skull tighter.
Nobody said a word as they drove. Jaci spun the possibilities around in her mind. Were they being driven to Canada again? Heading for Mexico?
Twenty minutes later the car stopped.
The Hand opened the door. He gripped Amanda’s wrist and guided her out. “No funny business.”
The muscleman next to Jaci pulled her out on his side.
They were behind a night club. Evening had faded into black skies, the neon lights flickering over the bare parking lot. Wind and gentle white snow flurries whipped around Jaci’s long hair. Her stomach knotted up. Last time The Hand had made a deal to sell them into the sex trade. Was this the realization of that deal?
They climbed up the steps by a stinky green dumpster. The Creep pushed open the door with the bright exit sign over it.
A purple-haired woman in a mini skirt and button-up vest bustled over to them, her ruby red stilettos reflecting the dull overhead lights. She raked her brown eyes over Jaci and Amanda. “Come in. I’ve gotta room ready for the little ladies. With me, girls.”
The Grandón released his hold on Jaci. Still, she just stood there. They were in a night club. Couldn’t she just scream and run for help?
The Grandón reached a hand out and smacked Jaci’s face. She gasped and grabbed a stool next to her. “Move, girl,” he growled. He poked something hard into her back, moved it down her spine. “You’ll be dead before you can get two words out.”
A few sullen faces glanced toward them, but there wasn’t even a glimmer of interest. Trembling, she stepped to Amanda and took her hand. They went behind the bar and followed the woman up a staircase.
“Come in here,” she said, her tone as clipped as her heels on the hardwood floor. She led them into a room with a bathroom and a bed. Velvety curtains billowed from the open window. She locked the door and crossed the room in two steps. Closing the window, she turned around to face them. The heavy makeup on her face looked thick and powdery in the yellow lighting. “Strip.”
Jaci froze. She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling incredibly transparent. “No.”
The woman rolled her eyes and tossed her burgundy hair. “Chill. Nothin’s gonna happen to you. I’m checkin’ you out. Have to report to the boss.”
A shiver ran through Jaci.
“If you won’t strip for me, honey, I’ll get one of them guys up here. They’ll get you out of those clothes in a hurry.” There was no kindness in her words
, only an impatient condescension.
That was enough for Jaci. She unzipped her navy blue jacket and pulled her shirt over her head. Don’t think, don’t think. Just do.
Amanda hadn’t moved. Jaci paused for a moment and looked at her. Amanda inclined her head slightly, widening her eyes.
The necklace.
Ever so quickly, Jaci looked toward the bathroom and then went back to peeling off her clothing.
“Can I use the restroom first?” Amanda’s voice was meek and soft. “I’m just so nervous. And we haven’t gone in hours. I’m afraid I might wet myself.”
Their hostess rolled her eyes. “Yeah, go.”
Amanda slipped in and closed the door. The rest of Jaci’s clothes hit the floor around her ankles, and she wrapped her arms around her bare body.
The woman stepped closer and circled her, eyes moving up and down. “All right. Put ya clothes back on.”
The toilet flushed. A twinge in her bladder made Jaci realize she needed the restroom too. Amanda stepped out, still fully clothed.
“My turn.” Jaci met Amanda’s eyes for a moment and hurried inside. Sitting on the toilet, she put her head in her hands. They were about to be sold into the sex trade. She was certain of it. Don’t cry. Oh God! What’s to become of us? She tried to imagine what their lives would be like.
She still had to pee. A glance around the small room didn’t reveal the necklace. Amanda had hidden it well.
When she stepped out, Amanda was pulling her top back on. She straightened out her sweater and Jaci joined her.
“Back to the bathroom.” The woman shoved them forward. “Time for a new hairstyle.”
“Are you a hairstylist?” Amanda’s voice held a cynical tone.
“I do hair all the time, yeah.”
Jaci surveyed the purple hair doubtfully. Anyone could open a box. She attempted a smile. “Do you have a name?”
The woman cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. They said not to tell ya. But whatcha gonna do, call my ex?” She guffawed. “Call me Smoky.”
Smoky didn’t see Amanda behind her, mouthing, “Smoky?” and rolling her eyes.
Jaci worked hard to keep her face impassive. “Okay. Hi.”
Smoky reached out and touched the black hair that went to Jaci’s shoulder blades. “This ain’t gonna be easy. We’ll hafta bleach it.” She opened the cupboard and began pulling out chemicals and boxes. “Put your head in the sink.”
Jaci watched from the sink bowl as Smoky opened a bag of powder and dumped it into a bottle. Closing the lid, she shook it for several minutes.
Amanda leaned against the back of the toilet. “What are they going to do to us?”
Smoky snapped a pair of gloves on her hands and began pouring the mixture over Jaci’s head. “I dunno. Got my guesses, though.”
Jaci opened her mouth to speak and had to cough first. Awful. “And that’s okay with you?”
“What’s it matter to me?” She yanked on Jaci’s hair. “None of my business. Done with you. Sit. You, come here.” She beckoned to Amanda.
“You look great, Jaci. Really awesome.” Amanda put her head in the sink.
“Shut up,” Jaci growled.
Smoky glanced back at Jaci. “Your eyebrows.” Dabbing her finger in the bleach, she brushed them over Jaci’s brows.
Jaci felt a moment of panic. If that got in her eyes, it could blind her. She closed her eyes and waited till she felt certain it wouldn’t drip before opening them.
Smoky opened a box of chestnut dye and mixed up the color. She applied the brown over Amanda’s auburn locks. “All right, switch.”
Once again Jaci leaned over the sink. Smoky turned on the water and rinsed the bleach from her hair. Jaci stole a glance at a strand that fell over her shoulder. “My hair is orange.”
“No, it’s not,” Smoky snapped. “It’s blond.”
Amanda coughed.
“Now be still.” Smoky stood her up and got out some scissors. Starting at Jaci’s chin, she began chopping the long hair.
Jaci stared at her reflection. Orangish-white eyebrows framed her large brown eyes. Smoky cut a fringe of bangs, making Jaci’s forehead disappear. The Hand should have done this disguise thing a long time ago. No one would recognize her.
“Switch.”
Jaci sat on the toilet, reaching up and feeling the short, orange hair, coarse and dry from the recent bleach job.
Smoky rinsed the brown dye from Amanda’s hair, and then pulled a blow dryer from the medicine cabinet. Jaci flinched every time she opened a new cupboard. She kept expecting her to find that necklace.
As soon as Amanda’s hair was dry, Smoky put together a few more chemicals and massaged them through the chestnut curls. Jaci wrinkled her nose at the burning smell.
Amanda shifted over the sink. “My hair’s going to fall out.”
“Only if you don’t shut up,” Smoky growled. She pulled on the strands of hair, holding them straight. She didn’t wait too long before rinsing this mixture out as well. Then she went to work with the scissors, cutting the wavy brown hair to Amanda’s shoulders. The jagged cut lacked any shape or style, and Jaci imagined her hair looked just as wilted.
“You’re done.” Smoky stepped back and surveyed the girls. With a nod, she put away her supplies. “Back down you go.”
Jaci forced herself to breathe. Her legs trembled. She pushed up from the toilet seat and used the door frame to steady herself.
“Walk in front of me,” Smoky said, unlocking the bedroom door. “I don’t trust you girls.”
Jaci glanced at the window. She could be out the window before anyone could stop her. If she wasn’t injured from the jump, she could run, call Detective Hamilton, the police.
Too much time thinking about it and not enough action. Smoky shoved her in the back. “Move, girl.”
Jaci pushed everything from her mind and put one foot in front of the other.
November 5, Idaho Falls, Idaho
Any news on your daughter?” Though Carl really wanted to launch straight into his questions about the kidnapping, he thought it best to show Agent Reynolds some common courtesy. After all, his daughter had run off with a boy yesterday.
Reynolds rubbed the corner of one eye, then leaned back in the chair across from Carl and crossed his fingers together. “Not since she and Seth called from Wyoming to say they’re going to Vegas.”
“Wyoming?” Carl echoed. His mind quickly calculated the route from Shelley to Vegas. “Kind of the wrong direction, isn’t it?”
Reynolds’ lip twitched. “I can only assume they took a detour. Maybe they needed time to think. I don’t know. Megan didn’t say too much.”
Carl nodded, but already his mind had moved past Reynolds’ daughter and her troubles. “Anything more on the FBI agent who had the girls last? Florence?”
“Here’s what I’ve got.” Reynolds opened his briefcase and put several documents on Carl’s desk between them. “Her cell phone records show several unidentified numbers over the past few days.”
Carl kept his face impassive. “But FBI numbers are usually blocked.”
“Right.” He pulled another phone record to the front. “But this is a copy of her record last month. The calls were fewer, usually only during her working hours. The past week was quite the opposite. The majority of the calls happened when she wasn’t working.”
Carl saw the trend now. “So you think this was The Hand calling?”
“I think so. We’ve searched her apartment. She and her daughter are gone.”
“Missing?” Carl asked, but he doubted it.
“Certain items are missing, like her laptop, her cell phone, and most of their clothing. I have to consider that they might have been kidnapped, but I think she is ran away.” He flipped
another paper to the front. “This is a copy of her passport. She left it behind. I’ve got airport security across the nation watching for her, and Interpol is helping out abroad. In case she’s already fled, we’re scanning security cameras.”
Carl scribbled in his notebook as fast as he could. “But I still don’t understand. You think she was helping The Hand. Why?”
“I can’t know for sure, but I suspect it had to do with her daughter. Florence has no one else. I wouldn’t put it past anyone to sell out to protect their child.”
Carl tapped his pen against his lip. “Could she be with The Hand?”
Reynolds sighed. “Possible. But I can’t believe she is so cold-blooded. More likely, she wants to put this whole thing as far from her as possible. Which would mean another country.”
Carl had never met Florence, but he knew she had worked with the girls extensively during the past few days. He understood Reynolds not wanting her to be so evil, but he also knew people could be. “If you find her, will you let me know?”
“Of course. Are you still working the case for Rivera?”
Carl hesitated. “Yes. But from a distance. We think he’s in Alaska right now, but I’m not there to track him down. We didn’t get all the funding we hoped for.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Carl shrugged. He’d given the information to the Fairbanks police, and hopefully they could find Agent Purple/Rivera. Though he doubted it. “I’m still going to Ohio. Can’t be everywhere.”
“True.” Reynolds stood up. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
Carl rubbed his eyes wearily. After a full day at the office, he was home, for the time being. Soon he would leave for Ohio.
Kristin came in from the backyard, the screen door slamming behind her. She pulled a knit hat from her blond hair. “It’s getting cold. There’s a chill in the air.”
“They’re predicting snow for the weekend.” Carl’s voice lacked any energy.
Altercation Page 14
