Chloe had hugged her and held her until her mother had walked in and taken Chloe’s place. Chloe had slipped out when she saw Krista wrapped in her mother’s arms.
Her throat tightened at the memory.
Now in a borrowed conference room at the hospital where they’d agreed to meet after questioning the victims, they worked on the plan.
Linc had the lead FBI position. Tabitha St. John, the city’s chief of police and Linc and Chloe’s mother, had agreed to leave Chloe and Hank on the team. She’d also requested two DEA agents and two OCN agents, one of whom was Derek. Blake’s partner, JoAnn, had been approved, and would work on tracking Alessandro Russo in between shifts of guarding the judge. And, as a courtesy, Blake would also be kept in the loop on any updates concerning Rachel.
For now, they were gathering as much information as they could to get started. Then they’d split up and get this thing taken care of. Hopefully.
“These people are careful,” Blake said. “More careful than anyone I’ve ever run across before. They’ve gotten this down to a science. They have one, possibly two guys, who woo the girls into trusting them. Then once they’re at the house, they keep the girls in the dark. Literally. The abductors wear masks so should one—or a truckful—of the girls manage to escape, she can’t identify any of them.”
“Which none of these girls could,” JoAnn said, all caught up on the information they’d already gathered. “Except for the two known as Carson Langston and Manny with no last name.”
Linc nodded. “And let’s see if we can access their cloud accounts. I want to see what pictures they have on their phones and their text history.”
The girls were scared. Their families had been threatened. They were potential witnesses for anyone caught and brought to trial. And then there was Alessandro Russo. A fugitive on the run, but with ties to a human trafficking organization based in their city.
It was a good enough argument to assign officers who would work in shifts to protect each family. For now. Those resources wouldn’t be available for long, so Chloe and the task force would have to work fast.
Blake steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Jo and I are on judge protection duty in the morning. I was going to request someone else take my place, but now I plan on going to the judge’s home and questioning him. Now that Rachel is free of them, I don’t have to keep my mouth shut anymore. We can go after these guys full speed ahead.”
“First things first,” Linc said. “Let’s see what Judge Worthington has to say about all this. He’s agreed to meet us in the morning while Blake and Jo are there.”
Nods of agreement around the table.
Chloe blew out a short breath and stood. “I’ll see you all in the morning. I’m heading home.”
When she stepped out of the room, she nearly ran into the woman standing outside the door. “Ruthie?”
“Chloe. Hey, I’ve been waiting on you.” Dr. Ruthie St. John, skilled surgeon and another sibling.
“What’s up?” Chloe asked her.
“Dad said Sunday lunch is on. Does that work for you?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Chloe frowned. “What’s today anyway?”
“Thursday. Well, I guess it’s Friday now.” Ruthie touched Chloe’s forehead. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Fine. Just overworked and getting ready to be over overworked. Sunday may be just what I need by the time it gets here. If I can make it, I will. If not, I’ll let you know.”
“Great. I’ve left messages with the others.”
“Is there some occasion I’ve forgotten?”
“Nope.”
She nodded. “Good. Now I’m going home to get a couple hours’ sleep before we dig in again.”
Rachel didn’t know what time it was, she just knew she was exhausted. And it was dark. And she was scared. So far, no one had bothered to come into the barn and she’d been alone for hours. Well, she and her new friend, Smoky Hope. Because the cat reminded her of a billow of gray smoke and Hope because, right now, she needed some hope in her life.
Thankfully, she’d found an old horse blanket that stunk and had who knows what kind of creatures crawling in it, but she’d pulled it over her and welcomed the warmth it had offered.
Goose bumps still pebbled her arms, but she no longer felt like a block of ice. Smoky Hope huddled next to her, curled against her belly. Loath to move, but deciding it might be a better idea to sneak out under cover of darkness rather than wait for morning, she held the cat to her lips and kissed its soft head. “Bye, sweet kitty. Take care of yourself. I’d try to take you with me, but that’s probably not a good idea. At least you don’t have to worry about starving, there are plenty of mice around here.” Ick. She set the cat aside and stood, keeping the blanket pulled around her shoulders.
She opened the door, wincing at the shriek of the rusty hinges. Heart pounding, blood racing, she paused and listened while she peered out toward the house. A lone porch light burned and that was it. No lights in the rooms upstairs or down. She already knew the basement would be pitch black.
Nausea swirled at the memory. At the thought of going back down there.
When nothing happened, no more lights flicked on and no doors opened to investigate the sound coming from the barn, Rachel slipped out into the night. A quarter moon hung in the sky offering a bit of light, but not much.
Eyes scanning the area for any movement, she hurried across the open expanse of land, thankful she’d chosen the black converse tennis shoes instead of the clunky high heels someone had shoved at her. She’d tossed the heels and kept digging in the box until she’d found the tennis shoes.
Rachel reached the side of the house and stepped between the shrubs to peer in the window. The room was dark, and while she couldn’t see it from her position near the barn, there was a faint light inside. Probably a night-light. The blinds blocked her view for the most part, but she could make out a bed and someone in it. Probably one of the men taking his break from guard duty.
Slowly, she made her way around the house, looking in each window, careful to make as little noise as possible. Her pulse hammering beneath her skin, she reached the opposite side and stopped.
Cigarette smoke and low voices reached her.
Sweat pooled beneath her arms and her palms grew slick in spite of the chill in the air.
What were they saying?
Should she try to listen?
If they were out here, did that mean there wasn’t anyone watching the girls? Could she get inside and let them out of the cages?
Rachel bit her lip and shivered even as her stomach rumbled. Hunger hit her hard. The protein bar had lasted only so long. Pressing a hand against her stomach, she moved forward on silent feet. The voices became clearer. Carson and one she didn’t recognize. She peered around the corner.
“. . . get her back.”
“I know.” Carson held a cigarette to his lips and drew on it. As though he had all the time in the world, he blew the smoke out. It curled in the night air, aiming for the clouds she couldn’t see but knew were there. How many times had she wished she could simply evaporate and disappear from the cage that had held her?
Too many to count.
But she couldn’t focus on that right now.
“This is your fault, you know.”
“My fault? I didn’t have a wreck and then get myself killed and allow the girls to be discovered. You can’t put this on me.”
“Your face is on the security cameras now at the hospital.”
“You told me to go looking for her! And so what? Even if they run me through some system, nothing will show up. That’s why you hired me, remember?”
The other man snorted, took Carson’s cigarette, inhaled, then tossed the remains to the ground. He stomped it out and crossed his arms. “He’s still alive.”
“No kidding.”
“Then do something about it.”
“It’s in the works,” Carson said.
&n
bsp; A sigh slipped from the stranger and he raked a hand through his hair. With his back to her, she couldn’t see his face, but she knew for sure she’d never heard his voice before. In that dungeon where she’d been kept, all she—and the others—could do was listen when their captors talked. This was a new voice.
And who was the “he” they were referring to? Who was it they wanted dead so bad?
“I’m going to bed,” Carson said. “I’ve been up since yesterday morning.”
“I’ll keep watch.”
“We’ve got three new girls coming tomorrow.”
“Good. Losing that truckload of inventory cost us big-time. We’ve got a lot of money to make up.”
“Roger that.”
Rachel closed her eyes at the thought of the poor girls, the inventory, but she couldn’t worry about them for now. Right now, she had to find help for Lindsey. Maybe if she was able to save Linds, her father would—
No. Don’t go there.
She took a step back, her foot landed on something hard, and a loud crack echoed around her.
Carson stopped walking. “What was that? Hey! Is someone out here?” He turned to the other man. “You go that way. I’ll check over here.”
Rachel sucked in a silent breath and ducked down behind a bush, curling into the tightest ball she could, huddled up against the side of the house. Footsteps came her way. Seconds ticked. A flash of light passed over her head. Probably the light on his phone. She didn’t dare move.
They were going to find her and she would never see her father or the rest of her family again. Lindsey and the other girls were going to be sold off and Rachel was going to die. Because she’d kill herself before she let herself be used like that.
Bottom line was she was a loser, a failure. Her throat grew tight, sobs wanted to burst through. Biting her lip, she refused to allow a sound to escape.
The footsteps passed by. “It’s nothing, man. I’m going to bed,” Carson finally said.
“Go,” the unidentified man said, “we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
Rachel kept her eyes closed and slowly let out a silent breath. They hadn’t found her. She was still free. She still had a chance to help Lindsey and the others.
So, now what should she do?
8
FRIDAY MORNING
Blake gripped a handful of his hair and walked the length of the den. He had a much better understanding of people who stated they were frustrated to the point of pulling their hair out. Yep. He got that now.
He’d arrived at the Worthington house for his shift, and neither the judge nor his wife had yet to put in an appearance. Linc seemed to be biting his tongue and hanging on to his patience by a thread.
JoAnn placed a hand on Blake’s arm and raised a brow. “Chill.”
“I’m chill.”
“You’re anything but.”
He grimaced. “Where are they?”
“They’re here,” Deputy US Marshal Parker Hunt said. “She’s still in bed and he’s working in his home office. He said he had two phone calls to make and then he’d be happy to talk to you.”
“You’re going to have to have some patience,” JoAnn told him under her breath.
“I don’t have any left.”
His partner rolled her eyes, but the concern for him was there. He knew she cared and he appreciated it.
It didn’t do anything to help his raging desire to go find the judge and haul him bodily out of his office and question him, but he really did appreciate it.
Parker sat at the kitchen table and his partner, Justin Bolton, poured himself a cup of coffee. They would stay with Mrs. Worthington while Blake and Jo covered the judge.
They looked like quadruplets in their matching clothing. Navy blazers with their plastic pocket IDs and khaki pants. Justin had on his baseball cap with the USM emblem on the front. For this assignment, Blake and Jo both wore body armor as a protective measure. The judge would wear one too.
“He’s got a ten o’clock court time,” Blake said.
“That’s an hour from now,” Linc said. “But I’m going to have to run if he’s not out here in the next fifteen minutes.”
Ten minutes ticked slowly past.
The front door opened and Blake recognized Paula, the judge’s daughter. Miles, the fiancé, followed her. “But you have to tell me this stuff, Miles,” Paula was saying over her shoulder. “Seriously. How can you keep—” She broke off when she spotted Blake and the others. “Oh. You’re here.”
“Did you think we wouldn’t be?”
“No, of course not.”
Both carried fresh bagels if the odor emanating from the bags was any indication. His stomach rumbled as he stepped forward to take them from her. “Let me help.”
“Thank you.”
Miles was already in the kitchen pulling small plates from the cupboard.
Blake set the bags on the counter. “I didn’t realize you two were coming for breakfast.”
“I decided we needed an intervention,” Paula said. “Dad needs to drop this crazy human trafficking issue and get out of the sights of whoever has a bead on him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”
Blake raised a brow. “So, you just let them win?”
“Yes,” she snapped, “if it means staying alive.”
“If it wasn’t your father, how would you counsel him?” Blake asked. “To run or fight?”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She turned on her heel and left him standing there.
“Never seen anyone shut her up like that before,” Miles said. “Wow. That was actually kind of impressive.”
“I don’t mean to discount her feelings for her father, but if he gives in to these people, it’ll set a precedent.”
“You think?”
“Don’t you?”
Miles nodded, eyes thoughtful. He snitched a bagel from the bag and wrapped it in a napkin. “Well, I can’t stay. I’m just playing delivery boy for Paula. There’s enough for everyone. Dig in.” He turned. “Honey?”
“In here,” she called from the den.
Miles headed to tell his fiancée goodbye while Linc and Jo helped themselves to a bagel each. “Oh yum,” Jo said. “Hey, Blake, there’s blueberry.”
“Save me one.” He had a question for Paula. In the den, she and her fiancé were deep in conversation—the one they’d been having as they walked in the door?—and he almost turned around, but stopped when he heard her gasp. “Murdered? That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Who was murdered?” Blake asked. He knew it was nosey, but he couldn’t help it.
“Miles’s brother,” Paula said without taking her eyes from her fiancé.
“Half brother,” Miles said. “And it was two years ago.”
“Is that his picture?” Blake asked.
She held it out to him. “I was sorting his clothes for his next trip and this fell out.”
Blake took a look. A younger version of Miles stood next to a boy who looked to be in his teens. “Good-looking couple of kids,” he said.
Miles’s lips thinned. “Yeah. I miss him.” He plucked the photo from Paula’s fingers and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Let’s move on to happier topics.”
“But why haven’t you ever told me about him?” Paula persisted.
“I don’t know. I don’t talk about him much,” Miles said, obviously resigned to answering his fiancée’s questions. Blake almost smirked. What else could one expect from a lawyer but a grilling?
“We were very close growing up,” Miles said, “and then we kind of went our separate ways when we graduated from high school. I later learned he was murdered.” He gave a short laugh that held no humor. “Sometimes when I’m having a hard day and I’m missing him, I pull his picture out and think about him. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Blake said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He turned back to Paula. “But it’s in the past. I want it to stay there, okay? Now,
please.” He lifted Paula’s fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Change the subject.” He glanced at his watch. “Ouch. Actually, it doesn’t matter about the subject. I have to go.” This time he kissed her lips. “I’ll talk to you later tonight.”
Paula bit her lip and frowned, then nodded. “Fine, but we’re not finished discussing this.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
With an aggrieved look at Blake, he left and she gave an exasperated sigh. “Where are my parents? I told them I was coming over and we needed to talk.” She disappeared into the back of the house and Blake now had an inkling of why the Worthingtons hadn’t put in an appearance yet. Nothing like good old-fashioned avoidance.
Linc stepped into the room, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.” Well, it was something, but it wasn’t on his priority list for the moment. “We’ll have to leave in the next thirty minutes to get him there,” Blake told him.
“It’s a twenty-minute ride,” Jo said. “We’ll talk to him on the way, so quit grumbling.”
Blake sighed. He knew he was being a bear, but worry for Rachel wouldn’t let up the stranglehold it had on his throat. Why had she left the hospital without asking for help? He’d watched the security footage over and over and Chloe was right. Rachel had definitely been following the guy. But why? And why hadn’t anyone been able to figure out who he was?
Linc shook his head. “I can’t wait any longer. I’ve got an appointment at ten o’clock myself. I’ll call you in a couple of hours to get an update.”
He left with a wave, after Blake and Jo promised to keep him updated.
Ten minutes later, Judge Worthington’s appearance shut off Blake’s mental questions, only to bring different ones to the surface. Like, had the man lied about knowing who wanted him dead?
Blake turned to the judge. “We’re ready when you are, sir.”
“I’m ready. Sorry for making you wait. I had to deal with a daughter who wants me to cower behind closed doors and not go in to work.”
“Understandable. She’s worried.”
“I get that, but I refuse to let these people win.”
“Good for you, sir.”
Called to Protect Page 8
