“Nothing’s impossible. It’s simply a choice. Kill the judge or your daughter dies. She was supposed to encourage you to follow through. She disobeyed, so now she’ll have to be punished. You have twenty-four hours. And that’s a gift you should be grateful for. She should already be dead. Twenty-four hours. Once I get word of his death, I’ll let Rachel go.”
Punished? Because she wouldn’t tell him to kill someone. “You touch her and I’ll kill you.”
“Don’t make threats or promises you can’t keep.”
“I always keep my promises.” The line went silent and Blake decided not to push. “How will you know he’s dead?”
A low laugh filtered to him. “I’ll know. Tomorrow, Deputy US Marshal Blake MacCallum. Tomorrow’s the day. We’ll be waiting.”
Click.
Blake held the phone to his ear a little longer, then lowered it slowly. “It’s not over yet,” he said. “Noah Hampton may have wanted the judge dead, but so does someone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re back to square one.” He filled her in.
She blew out a breath. “Well, at least we know she’s alive.”
“Yes. At least we know that. For now. The punishment comment scares me just about more than anything.”
The last ambulance pulled away from the back of the house, and Blake watched it go as the coroner pulled in. Sickness coiled in his belly at the thought of Rachel in the hands of the monsters who thought life was something to be bought and sold—or simply ended. The very idea infuriated him and made him want to smash someone’s face. But he’d settle for simply stopping them and having Rachel home safe. “I’ve got to find her.”
“I know,” Chloe said. She squeezed his forearm. “Let’s go.”
With his hands shoved in his front pockets, he shook his head. “How did they know where she was? What tipped them off that she was at the store?”
Chloe placed a hand on his arm and curled her fingers around it. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, the cold was seeping through her coat. Sweat and a cold breeze mixing together produced a massive shudder. She led him to the officer’s patrol car—the one who’d driven alongside them. “I don’t know. Could have been a fluke thing. Could have been someone was watching the area and spotted her.”
“But who?”
“No telling.” She tilted her head. “Linc and the other agents—as well as the local officers—will make sure everyone who was in the store at the time is interviewed, but you know it could have been someone outside, someone who never set foot in the store, who saw her go in.”
“True.”
“For now, why don’t we grab some food, go over what we know, what we don’t know, and what we can do with what we know.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Let’s eat and talk.”
“Right.” Blake drew in a deep breath. “I just realized I really am back at square one. No one knows Rachel is missing. Really missing. Except you and the team here. And I can’t let on that she is. Which means I have to work tomorrow.”
“Or call in.”
“No. I did that today.” He ran a hand down the side of his face. “They’re watching me. They’re watching the judge. If I stay home, they’ll know and it might make them mad. And if I make them mad, they may take it out on Rachel.”
“Right.” They climbed into the back of the cruiser. With Hank against the door, that left Chloe in the middle. Blake took up the rest of the back seat, his right leg snugged up to her left. She tried to inch over closer to Hank, but it wasn’t like he was the size of a schnauzer or something. Blake raised a brow at her and she flushed. She didn’t mind being this close to him. Didn’t mind at all. But Rachel was missing.
Officer Monroe headed back to the store.
“Six miles,” he said. “That’s impressive. Not just the fact that y’all practically ran the whole way, but that Hank there was able to track backwards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog do that before.”
Chloe allowed a smile to curve her lips and scratched Hank’s ears. “Just one of the many exercises that we’ve trained on over the last couple of years. Today the conditions couldn’t have been more perfect for it.” Although, they’d trained in less-than-ideal conditions as well. “He’s a special guy for sure.” Her mind flashed to Jordan Crestwood and she grimaced. Too bad she couldn’t seem to fall for a special two-legged male as easily as she’d fallen for Hank. Then again, Hank had never ditched her for another woman. Or made her feel less of a woman because of her profession.
The painful memories settled themselves right in the middle of her heart and she blinked. Why was she thinking about that now? Her gaze slid to the man at her left. Blake MacCallum. She had a feeling he’d never treat a woman the way Jordan had.
Then again, it didn’t matter. Right now, the focus was Rachel and the human traffickers. Not her romantic baggage.
Officer Monroe pulled into the parking lot of the gas station and rolled up next to Chloe’s SUV. “Thanks for the ride back,” she said.
“Anytime. I’d love to stay updated on this.”
“Of course. Text me your number. I’ll give you an update when we find her.” Once Chloe had the man’s number in her phone, she waited for Blake to exit the vehicle and she followed, clutching Hank’s leash.
When they were settled in her Tahoe with Hank in his area, Blake let out a low breath. “Well. That was a bust.”
“Yes, for Rachel. But because of her, we found two girls alive, who, if they make it, will owe their lives to her.”
He paused, then gave a slow nod. “I guess that’s a really good way to look at it.”
“It’s the only way to look at it.” She caught him looking at her from the corner of his eye. “What?”
“What happened with you and Crestwood?”
“Huh . . . what?” Where had that come from?
“I need to think about something else. So . . . he hurt you.”
“Um. Yes, he sure did. Not physically, but definitely emotionally.” Why did he want to talk about that?
“Why?”
She gave a humorless laugh and started the vehicle. “I don’t know why. I guess because he found someone he liked better than me.” She pulled out of the lot and made a left. They had about a thirty-minute ride back to the office where he’d left his vehicle.
“I know the feeling.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I heard.”
He sighed. “Linc?”
“Yes. He wasn’t gossiping,” she hurried to say, “just mentioned you’d gotten a lousy deal, especially when it came to sharing custody with your ex.”
“It was lousy, all right.” He fell silent for a few moments before clearing his throat. “So, any word on our artist friend, Mr. Wright?”
“Nothing that I’ve heard. Been a little busy.”
“Right. He’s next on the list, though.”
“Someone is tracking him down, I’m sure. Why don’t you check with David? It looks like he and Annie are working together now, so nothing will fall through the cracks with all of us investigating and going in different directions.”
Blake dialed David’s number and put it on speaker.
“David here.”
“Hey, it’s Blake, any information on the whereabouts of Ethan Wright?”
“His last known address was vacant. Looks like they tore down the apartment building to put up a grocery store six months ago. We’re still working on it on this end, but as soon as we locate him, you’ll know.”
“Perfect. Talk to you soon.”
“Sooner rather than later, I hope.”
“Yeah,” Blake said, “me too.”
Rachel woke slowly, awareness of the cold hitting her first. She was so tired of being cold. Voices reached her and memory returned. Fear clawed at her, but fury burned bright. A soul-deep anger at the people who had no respect for human life—and at hersel
f for getting caught. She’d been so close.
She refused to open her eyes. Not yet. Let them think she was still unconscious. She wished she was. After she’d awakened the first time, they’d forced her to make that awful call to her father. And then they’d sprayed her again. Afraid she would cause them trouble, no doubt.
They were right to be afraid.
While she lay there, she engaged her senses and took inventory. When she’d called her father, she’d been in the back of a large van. After knocking her out, they must have moved her here. The question was, where was here?
The room was cold, but there was a mattress beneath her. And a thin blanket over her shoulders. So she wasn’t in a cage. That was only a slight comfort, but she’d take comfort where she could.
“. . . got her back. Now we’re in business again. He’ll kill the judge or she dies. Simple.” A voice she didn’t recognize.
“Not simple. If you kill her, that’s good money down the tubes.” A voice that sounded familiar. “Have you taken a good look at her? You know as well as I do this business is all about the looks. She’s magazine-worthy gorgeous and she’s never been touched. Top-dollar goods there.”
“Who’s going to buy her with the medical issues?”
“I’ve got someone in mind.”
“Then sell her. Whatever. I don’t care. But unless MacCallum follows orders, he’ll never see her again.”
“He’s not going to see her again anyway,” the second voice said softly. “And he knows it. I don’t see him killing the judge. We’re going to have to come up with another plan.”
“He’s a father. Fathers do desperate things for their kids.”
“Hmm. Guess we’ll see.”
She almost laughed. Like her dad would kill someone for her. Especially someone he was protecting.
But he had tried to come to her rescue. The thought resonated and her heart swelled.
Maybe he did care. A little anyway.
Shivers wracked her and she let her eyes open into slits. The room spun and she swallowed the hit of nausea. She remembered the feeling and knew to just stay still until it passed.
When she could open her eyes without wanting to heave, she did so. Slowly. Making sure no one was watching. The voices had stopped. A foot nudged her back and she slammed her eyes shut again. “This one’s going to sleep a little longer, I guess. I’m going to grab some food. I’ll be back to check on her before too long. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“She’s not going anywhere.”
“And check her sugar again. It was too high earlier.”
“The drug probably affects it. She’ll be fine.”
“I said check it.”
“I will.” Footsteps faded. And a hand touched her cheek. “Yeah,” the voice whispered. “So pretty.” Fingers trailed over her cheekbone to her collarbone and slipped under the edge of her shirt.
Rachel held herself rigid, forcing herself not to respond, to keep her breathing even. Just like when she used to avoid her mother and her incessant harping.
A chuckle. “You know, you don’t fool me. I know you’re awake.” His breath whispered across her cheek. She didn’t move. “If I thought you wouldn’t cause me no end of trouble, I’d be tempted to fork over the money and take you for myself. Unfortunately, I have other issues that demand my attention for now.” A pause and Rachel knew her heartbeat was visible in her throat. But still, she lay otherwise motionless, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her terror. “All right, then. I see how you want to play it. And if I didn’t have a problem to take care of, I’d call you on your little bluff. But I must go handle a rather explosive situation. Wish me luck.” His lips pressed ever so softly against her temple. “Until we meet again.”
And then he was walking away and Rachel’s breath left her in a whoosh that turned into a sob.
Tears leaked onto the mattress as her prayers for rescue whispered toward the heavens.
17
SUNDAY
Chloe let Hank take the lead on their route around the perimeter of the judge’s property. The Worthingtons had a beautiful estate, well maintained, and mostly green even in the middle of November. At least the rain had stopped. Hank trotted along beside her, his manner alert, but not alarmed.
So far, so good.
She made her way back to the house, unlocked the kitchen door, and slipped inside.
Files spread from one end of the massive twelve-person table to the other, spilling over onto the floor and the large island.
Blake, Linc, and the judge sat at the far end of the table discussing the three girls found in the house. “You have an update?” she asked Linc.
“Yeah. First, the three women who were knocked out at the store are awake and talking. Two, Deb and another, said the guy walked into the store with a gun. He pointed it at Deb and held a finger to his lips. So she didn’t make a sound. The other woman didn’t either. The third woman with the broken nose said she heard the whole thing go down, but was too scared to look.”
“So, she’s not really going to be any help, is she?” Chloe asked.
“No. Unfortunately. The guy walked in with a mask on. No one even got a look at his face.”
Chloe rubbed her eyes and nodded. “What about the girls at the house?”
“The one who didn’t make it is Katherine Moore. The other two—Nancy Littlejohn and Rhys Bolton—they’re in ICU. They’re clinging to life right now, but it’s not looking good for either of them. Nancy’s mother is with her and Rhys’s grandparents flew in to stay with her. Rhys lives with her dad and he’s out of the country on business.”
“Out of the country? When your kid is missing?” Chloe asked.
“She’s been missing for six weeks. The man had to keep his job in order to keep funding the search.”
“Right,” Chloe said. “Of course.” She knew better than to judge too quickly. “Where’s her mother?”
“Dead.”
She winced.
“Also, another body was found in a back room.”
“What? Who? We searched that place and it was clear.”
“He was wrapped in plastic and buried under a pile of mattresses. His prints came back belonging to a guy by the name of Manuel Garcia. Long rap sheet. Was busted for human trafficking four years ago. Did two years and got out on parole for good behavior. Looks like he made someone mad, though. He was beat to a pulp.”
“Manuel?” Chloe said. “Could be the one who pushed Skye down the stairs and kicked her. Rachel called him Manny. She said it made one of the other guys mad.”
“Mad enough to kill him.”
The judge slapped the table. “Those poor girls. It’s not right.”
“No,” Blake said, “it’s not.” He sighed. “Are you sure you don’t have any idea who could have it in for you like this?”
“No idea,” the man said. He gestured to the stack of files. “The answer could be here, but it’s impossible to pick one or the other out of the choices. These are all cases that I’ve passed sentencing on that have dealt with human trafficking.”
Chloe counted twenty files. She picked up the nearest one. “I can’t believe there’s not more than this.”
“Exactly. Why do you think I’ve been fighting so hard on this? Last year there were about fifty cases that came through the courts in South Carolina. Fifty. Nationwide there were about seventy-five hundred.” He swept a hand at the small pile of files. “There should be hundreds of cases coming through my court, but because most of the victims are afraid to come forward for various reasons, this is what happens. And then when there is a case, the sentences are so minor that the traffickers don’t really fear getting caught. I always give the maximum I can give, but I’m only one judge in a sea of them. We need to be consistent. We have to make it so that getting caught is not worth the risk. Right now, it is.”
Blake ran a hand over his face. “I had no idea.”
The judge shook his head. “It’s not
your area. No need for you to keep up with the statistics. But I’ve made this my passion.”
“What got you so fired up about this particular issue?” Linc asked.
The man froze, his eyes narrowing and focusing on something over Chloe’s shoulder.
“Tell them, honey.”
Chloe turned to find the judge’s wife, Lucy, standing at the entrance to the kitchen.
“I . . .” His mouth worked. “No. It’s not important.”
“So, it’s personal?” Chloe asked.
“Yes.”
“Then it might be important,” Linc said.
“It’s not.” He brushed past his wife without looking at her as he left the room.
“What is it?” Linc asked. “Anything you tell us, any small detail might help us find who’s doing this.”
“It’s not my story to tell, it’s his. And I was hoping he would share it with you.”
“Do you think knowing his story would make a difference in finding the person who wants him dead?”
“It’s . . . possible.” A frown. “But not likely.”
“Then you need to tell us,” Blake said. “Because whoever has my daughter wants your husband dead.”
She blinked. “Someone has your daughter?”
“Yes. The same person who’s making the threats against the judge. If he doesn’t die, my daughter does. And we’re running out of time.” He explained the situation in more detail with a final plea. “Please . . . help us.”
Pale, trembling, she took a seat at the table. “Oh my.” She glanced over her shoulder then back at them. “Oh dear. And they let you continue to stay near my husband?”
“I’m not committing murder, ma’am.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at her. “No matter the . . . cost.”
Chloe’s heart lurched. He knew they were going to kill Rachel regardless. The only way to get her back was to outsmart them and rescue her or pray she could find a way to escape again.
After studying Blake’s dark eyes for a moment, Lucy bit her bottom lip and she sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she sighed. “All right. Ben’s father left when he was ten and his sister was fourteen. Things were tough. He had no other family that could help—or would help. His mother slipped into a depression and started prostituting herself to make ends meet. And then . . .” She paused with another look over her shoulder.
Called to Protect Page 16
