Her Silent Spring

by Melinda Woodhall

  Even Eugene Wexler had finally gotten fed up with Sokolov’s games and had slipped out, claiming he was late for court.

  “We’ve been lurking on one of the darknet message boards Locke was using,” Jankowski said, turning a laptop toward the big man. “But we know there must be another way for Mack to communicate with the Syndicate.”

  Sokolov eyed the screen and smiled.

  “You need to find the message boards used by the Southern Circuit,” Sokolov said. “Mack’s a very active member.”

  “What’s the Southern Circuit?” Nessa asked Marlowe.

  Leaning back to look up at her, Marlowe shrugged.

  “A circuit is just a network of traffickers and suppliers that ship victims from city to city,” he said, turning his dark eyes back to the viewing window. “Different circuits operate all over the country. The Southern Circuit operates throughout the southern US.”

  The casual tone Marlowe used to describe the organized abuse of women around the country turned Nessa’s stomach.

  “I need some air,” she said, opening the viewing room door and stepping out into the hall.

  She closed the door behind her, and then leaned against the wall with a deep sigh. Her earlier bout with dizziness was gone, but she was still bone tired.

  Letting her eyes close, Nessa tried to block the disturbing images that wouldn’t leave her alone. Images like Amber Sloan’s dead body in the trunk of the Camry, or Misty Bradshaw’s scared face as she gave her statement.

  When Vanzinger had called Nessa to tell her Peyton had woken up, and that she’d seen her attacker in the hospital. He’d also mentioned that Peyton claimed Misty Bradshaw was another of the man’s victims.

  “The scumbag confessed to killing Misty while he was attacking Peyton,” Vanzinger had told her. “She’s pretty torn up about it.”

  Nessa imagined Veronica Lee would be devastated by Misty’s death as well. The reporter had tried so hard to help the young woman, and the WBPD had failed her miserably.

  Hearing footsteps approaching, Nessa forced herself to stand tall. No matter how bad things had gotten, she couldn’t let her team see her as anything less than strong and capable.

  “Chief Ainsley, I’ve been looking for you,” Dave Eddings said, sounding relieved. “Detective Vanzinger has been trying to reach you on your phone. He says it’s urgent.”

  The young officer stared at her expectantly, and she nodded, reaching into her pocket.

  “Looks like I left my phone on my desk,” she said, suddenly flustered. “Can I borrow yours, Officer Eddings?”

  Moments later Nessa was listening with stunned incredulity as Vanzinger told her Skylar had been taken.

  “We think Mack must have taken her,” Vanzinger said. “And Veronica Lee and Frankie Dawson have tracked her Apple Watch to the Windy Harbor Airfield outside town. They’re headed there now.”

  “The same airfield Amber Sloan told us about?” Nessa asked. “The one Mack had been using to pick up shipments?”

  Feeling Dave Eddings’ curious eyes on her, Nessa turned her back on him and lowered her voice.

  “So, they think he’s headed back to Sky Lake with her?”

  “That’s what they’re thinking, but I’m not so sure,” Vanzinger said. “If Mack found out Amber Sloan was an informant, he’s bound to know she’s told us about him. He’ll know we’ll be watching every airfield or airport near Sky Lake.”

  Nessa clenched her hand around Eddings’ phone. How were they supposed to find a man who had access to an airplane, and who was willing to kill anyone who got in his way.

  “I’ve got to go have a talk with someone, Vanzinger,” Nessa said, staring at the door to the interview room. “I’ll call you back.”

  Thrusting the phone back at Eddings, Nessa stepped to the door and flung it open. Both Jankowski and Ramirez turned in surprise.

  “I need to talk to Mr. Sokolov,” Nessa said. “I think he’s trying to sell us a load of crap about Mack, and I’m not buying it.”

  Sokolov turned to Nessa with a frown.

  “You think I’m lying, Chief Ainsley?”

  “I think you don’t know as much as you pretend to.”

  She walked to the table and put both hands in front of the big man, leaning forward to stare down into his craggy face, and ignoring the warning looks Jankowski was giving her.

  “I think you want a deal, but you don’t have much to bargain with,” she scoffed. “I think we might as well forget the whole thing.”

  Shifting in his chair, Sokolov was no longer smiling.

  “You want me to prove I can get to Mack?”

  “How would you do that?” she asked, trying to sound bored.

  Sokolov nodded toward the laptop open on the table.

  “Give me access to the laptop, and I’ll get you access to the Southern Circuit,” he said. “It’ll give you a taste of what I can offer.”

  She looked at Jankowski. The detective hesitated, then he shrugged his broad shoulders and pushed the laptop toward Sokolov.

  Moving his thick fingers over the keyboard with surprising speed, Sokolov quickly pulled up the site he’d been looking for and typed in a username and password.

  He clicked on several messages, then turned the computer back toward Nessa with a sarcastic smile.

  “This is the latest message from Mack on the Southern Circuit’s message board,” Sokolov said. “He offered fresh prime for top dollar and got a quick buyer. The pick-up happens tonight.”

  “Say that again in plain English,” Nessa snapped. “What does all that mean?”

  The door to the interview room opened again, and this time Agent Marlowe walked in, his face creased in a deep frown as he studied the computer screen.

  “It means Mack’s going to sell a young woman for a lot of money. The exchange is scheduled for tonight, but it doesn’t say where.”

  The words made Nessa’s chest tighten.

  “Skylar,” she said. “He’s going to sell Skylar.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Nessa let Jankowski drive her Black Dodge Charger on the way out to the Windy Harbor Airfield. She hadn’t told him why she wanted him to drive, but her recent dizzy spells had made her hesitant to get behind the wheel.

  The security booth appeared to be empty when they finally sped up to the airfield’s entrance, and Jankowski rolled the Dodge through the gate without stopping.

  Nessa surveyed the collection of white buildings ahead, surprised to see Sheriff Holt disappear into a hangar near the end of the row.

  “That’s Sheriff Holt from Sky Lake,” Nessa said, her tone reflecting her distaste. “He was on a mission to find Frankie earlier. I guess he heard Frankie was headed back here.”

  Jankowski pointed to his left, where a vehicle was parked at an angle, as if the driver had stopped suddenly.

  “Is that Veronica Lee’s Jeep?”

  “It sure looks like it,” Nessa said, as Jankowski steered the Charger toward the Jeep. “But I don’t see anyone inside.”

  Peering past the abandoned vehicle, she saw an empty hangar.

  “There’s nothing in there,” she said, looking back to where Holt had disappeared. “Let’s see what Sheriff Holt is up to.”

  Jankowski threw the Charger in reverse and backed up, coming to a stop outside the hangar at the end of the row. Nessa saw that it housed a small Cessna.

  As she got out of the car, she saw Holt circling the plane.

  “Sheriff Holt!” she called.

  Walking toward the hangar, she put her hand on her holster, double checking to make sure it was still there.

  “I’m looking for Frankie Dawson,” Holt said, his tone aggressive.

  He approached the loading door to the Cessna and wrenched it open before Nessa could protest.

  “Who’s in here?” he bellowed as he boarded the plane.

  A slim man in a baseball cap peered out of the cockpit. He looked sleepy, and he yawned as he regarded Holt.

  “W
here have you been, Sheriff?” the man asked, not seeming to notice Nessa and Jankowski. “We better get going. Where’s Beau?”

  “I’ve been looking for Frankie Dawson and Tom Locke,” the Sheriff said. “But it looks like they’ve flown off again. The other Cessna’s gone, and they’re nowhere to be found.”

  Nessa stepped closer to the Cessna and called up to Holt.

  “Sheriff Holt, we’re looking for a young woman who’s gone missing. We have reason to believe she was brought here.”

  The man in the baseball cap turned to Nessa in surprise.

  “There’s no one in here but me,” he said.

  “And who are you?” Jankowski asked, his eyes narrowed.

  Holt stepped in front of the man and scowled down at Jankowski.

  “This is my pilot, Curtis Webb. He’s co-owner of this plane.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” the man called from behind Holt. “I’m Beau Sparks’ partner. Only problem is, I can’t find Beau.”

  Looking back at Curtis, Holt seemed to hear him for the first time.

  “When’s the last time you saw Beau?”

  “He got out to smoke a cigarette about an hour ago I guess.”

  Curtis took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair.

  “When he didn’t come back, I got out to look for him, but he was gone. I thought maybe Tom had come and taken him out to get some food, but the van’s still here, so…”

  Nessa turned to see a white van parked just inside the hangar.

  “When I find Tom Locke, I’m going to wring his scrawny neck,” Holt muttered.

  The name vibrated through Nessa as she stared at the van.

  “Tom Locke?” she said. “Is he any relation to Donovan Locke?”

  The sheriff rolled his eyes.

  “He’s his brother,” Holt said. “Why?”

  Meeting Jankowski’s eyes, Nessa could see he was thinking the same thing she was.

  “Could Tom Locke have taken Skylar in the van and brought her back to the plane?” she asked, trying to think through the possibilities. “Could they be heading back to Sky Lake right now?”

  Jankowski shrugged, but Holt seized on her words.

  “That must be it,” he said. “I never trusted that freak. He and Frankie Dawson must be working together.”

  Holt spun around to face Curtis.

  “We need to get back to Sky Lake now.”

  “But what about Beau?” Curtis asked, looking out toward the van. “We can’t just leave him here.”

  Waving away his protests, Holt prodded Curtis toward the cockpit.

  “We need to go now,” he insisted. “They already have a head start. Beau will get a flight back later this afternoon.”

  Curtis started to open his mouth again, then shrugged.

  “I’ll go with them,” Nessa said, moving toward the plane. “If Skylar is in Sky Lake, I want to be there when they find her.”

  A big hand settled on Nessa’s shoulder.

  “You’re staying right here,” Jankowski said. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you on that plane in your condition.”

  The stubborn set to Jankowski’s jaw convinced Nessa he wasn’t going to budge, and she knew he was right. She couldn’t put herself and her child in anymore danger.

  But as she watched the Cessna taxi down the runway, Nessa had a terrible feeling that she’d failed Skylar, and that she’d let a killer slip out of her hands.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Frankie sat as still as possible in the leather seat, listening to the sound of the engine and tensing at each bump or sway of the Cessna. His usual motion sickness had kicked in just after take-off, and it was only getting worse as they flew north toward Kentucky.

  Moving his head slowly to look over at Veronica, he saw that her face had also taken on a sickly pallor. Although the jostling of the plane didn’t seem to bother her, she was sick with worry for Skylar.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Frankie said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of the engine and the air outside. “Right now Charlie Day is probably handcuffing Beau or Mack or whatever he’s calling himself. Skylar will be waiting for us at Sparks Air Charter when we arrive.”

  He took a stick of gum from his pocket, unwrapped the foil, and stuck the gum in his mouth, hoping the chewing would help with the pain in his ears.

  At least I don’t feel like drinking any more.

  The idea of alcohol made his stomach clench, and he concentrated hard on keeping the meager contents inside.

  “I don’t feel good about this,” Veronica said, looking up toward the cockpit to where Tom Locke sat behind the controls. “What if Beau doesn’t take her back to Sky Lake? How will we ever find her?”

  Twisting her hands nervously on her lap, Veronica glanced again at Tom, her face tight with anxiety.

  “Can you ask him how much longer it’ll be?”

  Frankie hesitated, then nodded, trying to project an air of confidence as he unbuckled his seatbelt and willed himself to stand.

  The plane rocked slightly as he got to his feet, and he staggered forward to the cockpit and maneuvered his long frame onto the seat beside Tom. He was careful not to look out the window.

  Glancing over at Frankie, Tom smiled and handed him a headset that matched his own. He gestured for Frankie to put it on and showed him how to adjust the microphone.

  “You don’t like flying, do you?” Tom asked as Frankie perched stiffly in the seat next to him. “No need to worry, though. I’ve been flying these little planes for years. Just like driving a car for me now, only not as much traffic up here.”

  Frankie thought ruefully of his newly obtained driver’s license, wondering if it was in a mail truck somewhere on its way to his mother’s house. He pictured his mother sitting alone on her couch as the carrier dropped the envelope in the mailbox.

  If this plane goes down, I’ll never even get to use the damn license.

  Dismissing the depressing thought, Frankie looked at Tom.

  “How long until we get to Sky Lake?”

  “We’re almost there,” Tom assured him. “I just hope Sheriff Holt isn’t there to meet us. I’ve never been arrested before. I don’t think I’d like prison.”

  Although Frankie didn’t want to encounter Holt’s rage either, the possibility that the irate sheriff would be waiting for them wasn’t his biggest concern. Now that he felt confident Peyton was going to pull through, his biggest worry was for Skylar.

  “You think Beau would hurt Skylar?” he asked.

  Tom cocked his head, then shrugged.

  “I can’t really say for sure.”

  Tom paused, then looked over at Frankie.

  “Between you and me, I’ve suspected something fishy has been going on for a while. I mean, Beau and Curtis are pretty cagey about some of the shipments. But they don’t tell me much.”

  Studying Tom’s worn face, Frankie wondered if the man was really as simple and naïve as he seemed.

  “You’ve worked for Beau a long time, huh?”

  Tom nodded.

  “Yeah, after Donnie had all that trouble, Beau and Curtis were the only ones who were willing to give me a shot,” he said. “My ma didn’t want me working with ‘em, but I didn’t have much choice.”

  Before Frankie could ask what his mother had against Beau and Curtis, Tom motioned ahead.

  “We’re getting close. We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”

  Frankie staggered back to his seat and leaned toward Veronica.

  “He says we’ll be landing soon.”

  Leaning toward the window beside them, Veronica bit her lip.

  “I just hope he’s taken us to the right place,” she said, her voice vibrating along with the plane. “And I hope someone is waiting for us when we get there.”

  The plane began to descend, and Frankie buckled on his seatbelt and gripped the hand rest, suddenly sure they were going to crash. He closed his eyes and braced for impact, bu
t felt only a hard thump, and then the sound of wheels on the ground.

  Minutes later the plane went still, and Frankie opened his eyes.

  “Uh, Frankie?”

  It was Tom calling back from the cockpit.

  “Yeah, Tom?”

  “There are some people here to meet us,” Tom said, his voice strained. “And it looks like they have guns.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Special Agent Charlie Day came into the reception area where Frankie Dawson and Tom Locke were being held. The team of FBI agents that had stormed the plane were in the hangar questioning Veronica, who refused to let Hunter Hadley leave her side.

  “So, you guys gonna go find out who really took Skylar and stop wasting time with us?” Frankie asked. “We told you that Beau Sparks was in a different plane, and that he’s the one who has Skylar.”

  “There’s only one problem with that theory, Mr. Dawson,” Charlie said. “There’s no sign of another plane anywhere. Not in the air, and not on the ground here or in Willow Bay.”

  Charlie didn’t wait for Frankie’s reaction. Instead she approached Tom and stared down at him, taking in his rumpled clothes and tangled hair with an impassive gaze.

  “Sheriff Holt and Chief Ainsley both called me and said they believe you may have abducted a young woman from her home in Willow Bay,” Charlie said. “But we haven’t found anything that would lead us to believe anyone else was on the plane.”

  “I never took any woman,” Tom insisted, his eyes wide with shock. “After everything Donnie did, I know better than that.”

  Footsteps sounded behind Charlie, and Frankie looked up to see Veronica and Hunter approaching.

  “Detective Vanzinger called,” Veronica said, her voice shaking. “They’ve reviewed the footage from the hospital security camera, and Peyton was able to identify the man who attacked her.”

  She held the phone out to Frankie. Squinting down at the grainy image on the little screen, Frankie focused on the man’s face.

  His heart began to thump in his chest as he realized who had been standing outside Peyton’s hospital room.

  “It’s Curtis Webb,” Hunter said, his voice hard.

  Jumping out of his chair, Tom leaned over Frankie’s shoulder and stared down at the phone, then nodded.