Deadly Ties

by Vicki Hinze

  “Good. We understand each other then.” He sighed. “Let’s get the cargo out and run them through so we can get back on the road.”

  “The cargo is a them?” Juan asked. “What them? Run them through what?”

  Frank landed a solid punch to Juan’s jaw.

  He staggered back and thudded against the side of the truck. Catching his balance, Juan righted himself and clutched his face.

  “No questions.” Frank warned him with a pointed finger. “You do what you’re told when you’re told.”

  “My fault, Frank. I’m afraid I gave Juan the impression we were moving drugs.” A little chuckle escaped Karl’s throat. “I’m sure he was wondering what we were going to run them through.”

  “Our cargo is women.” Frank parked his hands on his hips. “And we’re running them through the john, unless you want to hose them down and clean up the stink.”

  “You’re shipping women?” Juan paled.

  The question had been directed at Karl, who deigned not to respond.

  Juan turned green. He quickly made his way to a patch of grass, bent over, and vomited.

  “Oh, great.” Frank blew out an annoyed sigh. “Pull that in my truck, and you’ll be riding in back with the cargo.”

  Juan heaved again, then straightened, wiping at his watering eyes.

  “I’ll leave you to it, Frank.” Laughing, Karl returned to his car.

  Juan, the poor slob, hadn’t had a clue. Karl almost wished he could be around to see the man’s reaction when he figured out the whole truth.

  He’d totally freak.

  Unfortunately Karl would have to miss it. He had other plans for a certain young woman in Seagrove Village.

  A woman out of chances who needed to die.

  The truck sat idle.

  Something thumped against its side.

  Lisa frowned at Gwen and Selene. “What was that?”

  “Dunno,” Gwen said. “Too light to be a car.”

  Lisa started shaking. “What’s going on? Why are we stopped?” They’d been still too long for it to be a traffic light.

  “We must be at another one of those stores.” Gwen aimed the flashlight at her wrist and checked her watch. “Three o’clock. That’s what it is.” She pulled her blouse down over her hip, then turned off the light. “Potty-break time.”

  Selene scooted back. “Don’t touch the door. Frank gets very angry if you’re close to the door.”

  Lisa moved back. “How many men are with him?” Three had abducted her, but that didn’t mean there were three now. As the door was closing, she’d seen Edmunds and Powell getting into a car in the hospital parking lot.

  “Who knows? The only one we ever see up close is Frank.” Gwen dabbed at the cut on her forehead. It was still bleeding.

  “Keep pressure on it,” Lisa said.

  Gwen pressed the bandage back into place. “That’s why you don’t look at anybody. The store will probably be empty, but if not, don’t trust anyone, and do not ask for help. You can bet they’re working for the people doing this or Frank wouldn’t be stopping here. Trust me on this, Lisa. Been there, done that, and all it got me was a head wound.”

  If Frank was alone, Lisa might be able to take him down. If an opportunity presented itself, she would take it.

  The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

  A man with bags and dark circles under his eyes and stringy blond hair that hung loose down to his shoulders stepped forward with the gush of fresh air. He wore jeans and a dirty white T-shirt, had bulky muscles and no flab—not a good sign for an easy takedown.

  “Here are the rules,” he said to Lisa. “You walk in the door, straight back to the bathroom, take care of business, walk straight out of the store, and get back into the truck. Understand?”

  He waited for each of the women to nod. Lisa did, and though she was tempted to ask questions, she sensed this was a good time to be quiet and fade away. Then if she did attack, it would be more of a surprise.

  “Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t look at anybody. That bracelet you’re wearing is a tracking device. If you run, I will find you. Break any of these rules, and this will be your last stop.”

  The hard, cold shards in his eyes warned her it wasn’t a scare tactic; it was a statement of fact.

  Lisa followed Selene out of the truck onto the asphalt. Straightening her legs had them stinging. Being folded for so long had cut off her circulation. Lisa rotated her feet to get the blood flowing and stop the needle-prick sensations shooting up and down her legs. She was sore all over and used the brief pause to visually investigate.

  Shabby convenience store with a half-torn-up parking lot surrounded by woods. No other businesses, no other cars, and no lights shining in the distance signaling nearby houses. The only sign in sight was one for the Interstate 10 on ramp. Totally remote. Not a single clue as to what state they were in, and nothing pointed to anyone assisting Frank. Apparently he was working this leg of the operation alone. That carried a spark of hope that her next thought dashed. He and his cohorts could have split up.

  Frank lifted his cell phone to his ear. “Yeah.” He held an outstretched arm to keep the women from moving. A long moment later, he said, “Got it.” He shoved the phone back into his pants pocket. “Juan!”

  A short Latino man in his late forties came around the side of the truck to the back. He didn’t look at them or say a word.

  “Go around the side of the building.” He jerked his head to the right. “Guard the window in the women’s rest room. If anybody comes out it, shoot ’em.”

  Juan crossed the lot and then disappeared around the corner of the cinder-block building.

  “Remember the rules.” Frank gestured for them to move.

  They walked inside. An elderly woman sat on a stool behind the counter near a cash register. She hurriedly lifted her newspaper to hide her face. Clearly she didn’t want to see or be seen. Lisa strained to read the title on the front page, hoping to get an idea of their location, but the print was too far away and the woman’s hands were shaking.

  That telltale shake proved she knew exactly what was going on, and she wouldn’t do a thing to stop it.

  On the way to the rest room, Lisa snagged a tube of Neosporin off the shelf. Forgive me for stealing, Lord. Gwen needs it.

  After shoving it into her top, Lisa entered the rest room, washed her face and hands, and checked the mirror above the sink.

  Her face was swollen, and she had a few scratches on her jaw. Her ribs, legs, and arms were muddy with bruises, but nothing that wouldn’t heal. The men had tried to avoid hitting her in the face. Now she knew why. Auctioned. Sold!

  Fear crackled inside her. Her hands shook. She shook all over. Was her mother still alive? Would Lisa see her again? And what about Mark? He’d feel guilty and was probably chewing himself up. She hated that. He deserved so much better. So much good.

  She just had to make it out of this. Mark would spend the rest of his life looking for her, and he’d never forgive himself for failing her. He hadn’t failed her, of course. She’d been foolish, taking the backdoor exit from the ICU. But Mark wouldn’t see it that way—not looking at it through eyes that failed Jane. Yet even if her mom lived and by some miracle Lisa made it home, would she and Mark work past this? Would she or her mom ever again feel or be safe?

  How could Dutch do this? Cruel and vicious and malicious barely began to cover it. How could any human being do this to another human being? Her mother could be dying. Dying. And Lisa wasn’t there with her.

  Tears threatened, clogged her throat. Lisa fought them, repeatedly swallowing hard, and turned away from the sink and mirror. Facing the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut.

  God, help me. Give me the wisdom and strength to survive this. It’s too big for me. I can’t do it alone. And help Mark find me. If an opportunity comes for me to help myself and these other women, I’m so scared I’ll miss it. God, please make sure I see it. Thank You.

  Gwen an
d Selene stood waiting at the door. “Do you do that often?”

  “Do what?” Lisa had no idea what Selene meant.

  “Pray?”

  “Yes, I guess I do.”

  Selene sounded almost shy. “Does it help?”

  Lisa checked her eyes, expecting mockery but seeing genuine interest. “Honestly? Not always the way I would like, but things usually work out.”

  Gwen dragged her fingers down her face. “I used to pray all the time. I’m not sure why I stopped. I’m not even sure when it happened. I just stopped.”

  “It’s like anything else,” Lisa said. “You let it slide, and next time letting it slide is easier, and one day you don’t think about it anymore.”

  “I guess so.” Gwen sighed. “Maybe now would be a good time to start again, huh?”

  Easy, Lisa. No pressure, no force. “Couldn’t hurt. All I know is, for me life’s too hard without it.” Lisa smeared salve on her fingertip, wrote Lisa needs help! Call, and then added Mark’s cell number.

  “Clever.” Gwen gawked at her reflection in the mirror. “But who’s gonna see it? That woman out there?”

  Selene harrumphed. “She’s not calling anyone.”

  “Someone has to shop here.” Lisa turned away from the mirror, tore off a hand towel, and then wiped her hands.

  “We can hope.”

  Lisa tossed the crunched towel into the trash can.

  “Pray on that too, Lisa.” Selene looked down. “I don’t pray. Not many who walk in my world do.”

  Lisa knew what it was to feel like an outsider. Selene lived in a world of people where faith largely stood apart from daily life. Lisa lived in a world of people immersed in faith and felt largely separated on the inside. Everyone had her own path to walk, and they all had trials to face. “Your world doesn’t really matter. You either believe or you don’t. It’s a personal choice we all make.”

  “True.” Selene scrunched her nose. “I’m just not that holy, you know?”

  Lisa had heard that a hundred times in her first month at the center. “Who is? We all just do the best we can.”

  Gwen tilted her head toward the door. “We’d better get back out there before Juan or Frank gets testy. I’m not up to another beating—none of us is.” She grabbed the door handle. “Ready?”

  Lisa eyed the window. She could take Juan, unless he started shooting the second she bobbed her head through the window, and with Frank’s orders, that’s what he was apt to do. Wiser to wait for a better opportunity. “Yeah.”

  “No.” Selene pouted, wrung her hands. “But what choice do we have?”

  “At the moment, none. But hope springs eternal.” Lisa walked out behind the other two.

  Frank waited just outside the door.

  No one had come into the store; still just the woman on her stool, hiding behind the newspaper. She couldn’t identify them; she had made sure of that. Lisa worked hard not to judge her. She could be under as much duress as they were or even more. Lisa glanced out through the front windows. Still no other cars in the parking lot and none at the gas pumps.

  Disappointment bit harder and sank deeper, but she expected it. She never could catch a break, not even with two hands and a net.

  Gwen shoved open the door, and they filed outside.

  Bringing up the rear, Lisa closed the door behind her—and saw a sign taped to its glass. Human trafficking is a crime. If you are a victim or know of a victim, call …

  Chilled to the bone, she ignored the number. No way would she have the opportunity to call anyone, and nothing in the store had cued her as to where exactly they were—not that she had much opportunity to look with Frank hovering like a shadow. But the sign chilled her for another reason.

  It was just like the one that hung in Dutch’s store.

  A flier posted in the window near the sign caught her eye. Lost puppy. Black and white mixed breed. Call Nina. Weird. There was no phone number.

  “Move it, woman.” Frank grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward the truck.

  Where was the other guy—Juan? If Lisa took on Frank, Gwen and Selene wouldn’t be prepared. The delay could be costly—he was armed—but if Juan didn’t intercede, they might make it to the woods. The distance back into the store was shorter. They could make it in and lock Frank out. He’d have to shoot his way in. Surely that’d give one of them time to call police. Lisa didn’t see Juan anywhere.

  Two more steps and the window of opportunity would be closed.

  “Got that water yet?” Frank shouted.

  “Sí, I have it.” Juan came into view from the far side of the truck, carrying three bottles of water. He walked over to Frank but didn’t pass out the bottles.

  “Get in.” Frank motioned to Lisa. “You first.”

  The opportunity was gone. Let down, Lisa shunned her disappointment. The time hadn’t been right. But in two hours, when they stopped again, she’d have another chance, and next time, she and Gwen and Selene would all be ready.

  Hiking her hem, Lisa stepped onto the wide bumper and then pulled herself up into the truck. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the store clerk peering out at them from behind a sign at the window. She definitely knew what was going on and wasn’t going to lift a finger to help them.

  Maybe she can’t.

  Lisa frowned. Sorry. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but “can’t” just isn’t good enough. Anyone can make an anonymous phone call. You want her forgiven, God, then You’ll have to forgive her. I can’t do it. I’m not that holy or that strong.

  When Selene and Gwen were seated on the floor of the truck, Frank tossed two bottles of water toward them. When he got to Lisa, he paused. “I know about your black belt. I’m not impressed. Pull any of that martial-arts stuff on me, and you won’t be going inside or getting water again.” The imprint of his gun tucked into his waistband bulged, stark and menacing.

  “Figured that.” She leaned forward to reach for the bottle—and saw the spiderweb tattoo on his hand.

  Jerking back, she fell onto her bottom, thumping against the truck bed. “Lost my balance,” she said, hoping to cover her reaction. She took the water bottle and sat back, locking her muscles to keep from cringing at the image flooding her mind.

  A misty, fuzzy image of her as a young child, fiddling with the peach-and-cream ribbons on a barrette she and her mother had made at a craft workshop. Sounds of her voice filled her ears, a telephone conversation with her mother, but the voices were distant, muffled by hard-rock music, the words inaudible.

  Lisa locked on to the image, forced it to her, and in her mind’s eye she saw a man beating on the window of her room. He shouted at her through the glass. “It’s time for you to become a shrub.” Her repeating that to her mother, asking what it meant. Her dog Rex’s snarling coming through the phone, her mother’s panicked, “Do not open that door. Go get Daddy, darling …”

  What door? Where was she?

  Inside her mind, something snapped. She heard a crash. Wood splinter and crack. The door caved in, and her father shouted from behind her. Something flashed, exploded. Lisa screamed and screamed.

  And screamed.

  15

  M ark stood near the nurses’ station outside the ICU.

  Detective Jeff Meyers stood next to him, his suit a little snug. He’d put on a couple of pounds over the winter, but tourist season always took it off. He’d be rail thin by its end. Passersby gave them a wide berth. Everyone working with them had scattered inside the hospital and out in the village, trying to scare up or run down leads.

  So far, they all came up dry.

  “Brought you some coffee from Ruby’s.” Jeff set a cardboard tray holding two paper cups on the ledge of the counter. The distinct scent of Ruby’s strong coffee filled the air.

  Jeff’s pug nose twitched. “It’s pretty obvious Dutch is behind this. But it’s just as obvious that he didn’t act alone. It’d be easy enough for him to hire a couple of thugs to help him, but ha
cking into the hospital’s security system … None of the thugs around here is that smart and neither is he.”

  “Dutch definitely had help. When Rose finally got him on the phone, he was in Georgia. Joe verified his location.”

  “Where exactly was he?” Jeff pulled a cup free from the carton and passed it to Mark.

  “In a hotel just across the state line.” Mark thumbed the tab and drank through the lid. “We faxed up a photo, and the clerk positively identified him.”

  “So he hired professionals to assault Annie and abduct Lisa. Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Yeah.” Mark covertly scanned the area to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard. This was the first chance they’d had to talk one-on-one in person, and what he was about to say wasn’t the kind of thing you trusted to the phone. “I’m afraid it isn’t just professionals he hired, Jeff. It’s NINA.”

  “NINA?” Jeff pulled his own cup from the holder and sent Mark a confused look. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Boy, those were hard words to admit. “But Karl Masson was in the parking lot when Lisa was abducted.”

  “Whoa.” Jeff scowled. “Think he’s back in the village for Kelly Walker?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t believe that’s all of it. Why would he leave the hospital with Kelly still inside? Why abduct Lisa instead?” Mark couldn’t answer those questions with any degree of certainty, but the scope of this had to be wider than Masson’s killing Kelly. “I’m sure Masson wants Kelly neutralized, but this has to be a multipurpose visit. Taking Lisa was a deliberate act.”

  Leaving the coffee untouched, Jeff stared off at the wall, then snapped his gaze back to Mark. “Had to be or Annie wouldn’t be here.”

  Two orderlies walked by complaining about runny eggs in the cafeteria. Waiting for them to move out of earshot, Mark glanced over at a painting hanging on the wall. It was a serene landscape. Calm and tranquil—the antithesis of all he was feeling inside. He wished he could crawl into it and absorb some of its calm. Maybe if he got some of the knots out of his gut, his focus would get off of what could be happening to Lisa and on to finding her. “If Masson was here on behalf of NINA, what are they doing and why?”