Hope and Honor

by Marilee Brothers

  He’s leaning against his desk, arms still crossed, eyes burning with fury. He dismisses his underlings. “Thanks, men. I can handle it now. Go home.”

  They leave, closing the door behind them. Hitchcock pushes away from his desk and closes the gap between us. I steel myself for what’s coming next, using every ounce of will power to keep from showing fear. He moves into my personal space, expecting me to back away. When I stand my ground, he reaches out and brushes his finger across the swelling on my face. His touch is surprisingly gentle. Sort of like a cat’s paw with the claws retracted.

  “What happened?”

  I hold back a shudder. “No biggie. Your guys don’t like females who have a mind of their own. But, you already know that.”

  He sighs. “Melanie, we’ve already established you have a smart mouth.”

  “Guess I’ll never learn.”

  He stares down at me. “Now, what am I supposed to do with you? You’re a valuable asset to our community, yet you try to steal our children.”

  “Maybe you should call the authorities. Turn me in for kidnapping.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He folds his arms again and looks me over, from top to bottom. “We were so hoping you would choose to stay with us, pick a mate, settle down. Be a mother to the twins. Frankly, we would welcome your genetic material. I have somebody in mind.”

  When I don’t respond, he says, “Now would be the time to speak up.”

  “So, if I don’t want to die, I have to marry one of your Neanderthals, produce a batch of soul-reading babies, and be an obedient little female who knows how to keep her mouth shut. Right?”

  “Crudely put, but accurate.”

  “Thank you, but I have to decline your generous offer.”

  He shakes his head sadly, as if I’ve somehow disappointed him. I know it’s an act because I can see into his soul. It shimmers with red streaks of pent-up violence and cruelty, waiting for release. Barring a miracle, I know my time on earth is short.

  He says, “I thought you’d say that.”

  Quick as a striking rattlesnake, he grabs my arm, opens the door and drags me into the conference room where another man waits. I can’t hold back a gasp of surprise.

  Hitchcock smiles down at me. “I believe you remember Paul Moen. He’s looking forward to a session with you. I’ll be here too, of course, in case he gets carried away. After all, we have all night.”

  Mel, you are so screwed.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Moen stands next to the table, gun in hand. I know what a Glock looks like and this is definitely not a Glock. It’s bigger and heavier. The large bore is aimed directly at my head.

  As sometimes happens when I’m in an impossible situation, a sense of calm settles over me. Am I ready to leave my earthly bonds to be re-united with my sister? No, I think it’s a defense mechanism that kicks in when I know my chances of survival are slim to none. On the plus side, Hitchcock and Moen think I’m a helpless female, totally at their mercy. Guess what? I know Brazilian Jujitsu and I can probably kick at least one ass before I go down. The gun is a bit troublesome, however.

  I place a hand on my hip and taunt Moen. “Pretty tough when you’re holding a gun. What a man!”

  He rises to the bait and sets the gun on the table. His eyes narrow and he spits his words out as if they taste bad. “Actually, shooting is too good for you. And, it would spoil the merchandise. After you’re softened up a bit, you can take the place of the little teenyboppers I had to get rid of. When I get done with you, you’ll be begging for the needle.”

  I take a step toward him. “I figured you were behind the kidnapping. Ziggy proved to be too much for your boys, and then you got scared and dumped poor Darcy ’cause you thought she was going to die. Well, guess what? She didn’t.”

  Hitchcock grips the back of my neck and squeezes a little harder than necessary. “I’m trying to help you, Mel, but you won’t listen. You could have found a home here. Now, I can’t save you.”

  When I speak, I add a little tremor of fear to my voice. “You don’t want to save me. I’m the female who refused to go along with the plan. Okay, you win.”

  Speaking of plans, I really want to take out Moen first. He’s got the gun. But Hitchcock’s proximity is too hard to resist. I relax in his grip and drop my head like I’m giving up.

  His grip loosens a bit. As my instructor taught me, I visualize a tightly coiled spring running through the core of my body. I jerk free, whirl and do a move that is so not sanctioned by the Brazilian Jujitsu association. Instead, I heed my mother’s voice. Go for the ’nads, Mel. I gather all the strength in my body and lash out with a vicious kick, slamming my right foot into Hitchcock’s crotch. He bellows in pain and slowly crumbles onto his hands and knees.

  Moen’s gun is still an issue. Actually, it’s an enormous issue. I dive behind Hitchcock, hoping his body will conceal me. Stupid. All Moen has to do is walk over and plant one right between my eyes. I peek over Hitchcock’s crumpled body, pleased to see Moen is having second thoughts. Perhaps the little female isn’t as helpless as he thought. Think, Mel, think. The door isn’t that far away. Can I get through it before he shoots me in the back? It’s worth a try.

  I slither across the floor toward the door. Moen walks toward me. His right arm is extended. He’s peering down the barrel, ready for the kill shot.

  It’s now or never, Mel.

  Just as I get my feet beneath me, the door flies open and Anna bursts through, holding a shotgun.

  “Watch out,” I cry. “Moen’s got a gun.”

  Moen lifts the gun and points it at Anna. She doesn’t hesitate. She aims and pulls the trigger. The blast hits Moen squarely in the chest. The gun flies from his hand. Deafened by the shot in such close quarters, I pull myself together and run over to retrieve it. Moen is alive and bleeding profusely, but I’m unable to work up a shred of sympathy.

  Hitchcock is still incapacitated and groaning, thank to moi. I give myself an imaginary pat on the back.

  He manages to get to his feet, though he’s clutching his injured private parts. “Anna,” he croaks. “Stop her. She’s crazy. She tried to kidnap the twins.”

  She aims the shotgun at his head and snaps, “Twins you planned to sell.”

  “But I…”

  Her grip tightens on the shotgun. “Don’t say a word, asshole. You’re the one I really want to kill.”

  I’m speechless with surprise. My gaze flickers back and forth between the two. Hitchcock moans and buries his face in his hands. I know there’s a backstory. I pinch my lips together and wait.

  Anna marches over and places the muzzle of the shotgun against Hitchcock’s head. He’s shaking with fear.

  “You did it. You killed my baby.”

  “Anna,” he pleads. “I took you and your boyfriend in when nobody else would. If I hadn’t, you’d both be locked up. Nobody was more surprised than me when Bobby took off. But, like I told you from the start, New Dawn isn’t for everyone. When the baby got sick, we did everything we could to help her.”

  Angry red splotches appear on Anna’s pale cheeks. Her finger tightens on the trigger. “Everything?” she repeats. “That quack of a doctor had no idea what was wrong with Frannie. I begged you to let me take her to a real doctor in 3 Peaks. I got on my knees and begged. But you refused and my baby died. I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Ken. A very long time. Remember your motto? A life for a life. It’s time you paid for your sins.”

  Visualizing the horror of what she is about to do, I find my voice. “Anna,” I say. “Please don’t do this. We’ll call the police, the sheriff, and the feds. They’ll handle it the right way. Hitchcock will pay for his crimes. You shot Moen in self-defense. If you kill Hitchcock, it’s cold-blooded murder and you’ll be locked up. I promise I’ll help you.”

  The shotgun remains firmly planted against Hitchcock’s head, but her trigger finger relaxes as she glances over at me. The pain in her soul is almost mo
re than I can bear. Her eyes brim with tears. “But he killed my baby.”

  “I know and I’m so sorry.”

  It takes both my hands to lift the heavy handgun. I take the correct shooting stance and point it at Hitchcock. I speak softly to Anna, praying my words will penetrate her emotionally unstable thoughts. “Here’s what we need to do. I’ll stay here and make sure Hitchcock doesn’t get away. If he tries to run, I’ll shoot him. Find a phone and call 911. Can you do that?”

  Her soul is a kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions. Rage. Bitterness. Loss. Sorrow. As she gazes into my eyes, I see a glimmer of green. The presence of hope in the human soul appears as a pale green beacon, the color of the sea on a sunny day. The flash of green tells me Anna hasn’t completely lapsed into a state of hopelessness and despair.

  When she backs away and lowers the shotgun, I smile and nod. “I knew you could do it. I’ll be right here.”

  Hitchcock lifts his head as she opens the door. I see his muscles tense like he’s preparing to make a run for it. I steady my grip on the handgun. Can I pull the trigger if I have to? Oh, yeah, I can. “Don’t even think about it, Hitchcock.”

  Before he can form an answer, there’s a commotion in the hall, stomping feet and loud male voices. One loud voice, in particular, brings joy to my heart.

  “Where are you, little girl? Uncle Paco is here!”

  I slip out of the room and close the door behind me. Moen is bleeding out. I kind of hope Hitchcock will try to escape. If so, he’ll have to fight his way through Paco and the ten Los Habañeros gang members in the hall, fully armed and spoiling for a fight.

  I take Anna’s arm and drag her over to Paco. “Hi, Unc. This is Anna. She’s kind of pissed off at a guy in the conference room. Maybe you can convince her to give you the shotgun.”

  He looks me over and holds out a hand. “What about the cannon you’re packing?”

  I give him the gun. “I’ll fill you in later. I have to do something first.”

  As I scurry away, I hear him talking to Anna in gentle tones. “Hey, sweet lady. I’m here to help. You don’t have to do a thing. Give me the shotgun and I promise you, the bad guy won’t get away.”

  When I exit the community hall, I see Paco and his boys haven’t arrived alone. Billy and a SWAT team pile out of armored vehicles, apparently late to the party.

  “Mel,” Billy calls. “You okay?”

  “I’m good. Talk to you later.” I scurry away before he can respond.

  Must find Kimber and Gunner.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I peer through the inky darkness, beyond the cluster of cabins. With a feeling of hopelessness, I realize the kids could be hidden anywhere. In an outbuilding, the blinds factory, the call center or even a musty basement like the one Ziggy and Darcy were in. The thought makes me shiver. I know I should wait until the cops fan out and do a thorough search. But, I simply can’t bear the idea of the kids, alone and scared, thinking I’ve abandoned them.

  After a brief hesitation, I turn and trot back into the building. Paco and his men are mingling with various and sundry law enforcement folk. A handcuffed Hitchcock is in the custody of two large men. His hateful glance follows me as I approach Paco, who’s cradling Anna in his arms and murmuring softly to her in Spanish. Paco has a special talent for comforting hysterical women. One of his men is holding Anna’s shotgun.

  I tug on Paco’s sleeve. “I need to speak to Anna.”

  Gently, he turns her around to face me. I look into her soul. Warring emotions still bubble beneath the surface, but a modicum of calm and reason has returned.

  I lean close and whisper. “I need to find the twins before a bunch of armed men bust in and scare the crap out of them. Are they at the schoolhouse?”

  She shakes her head. “The last time I saw them is when they left with you.”

  “Any idea where I should look?”

  I jump in surprise when one of the SWAT guys clamps a meaty hand on my shoulder. “Billy wants you to wait in his car. We’re organizing a search. Apparently there are a lot of heavily armed people here. He wants you out of danger.”

  I thank him despite the fact I have no intention of waiting in Billy’s car.

  When he stomps away, Anna pulls a small flashlight from her pocket and slips it into my hand. She whispers, “Go through the kitchen and out the back door. Wherever they are, the kids will be locked in and alone. That’s how Hitchcock does things if somebody steps out of line. Check Jake’s cabin first, then try the call center. It will be deserted this time of the night. Good luck and, Mel…thank you.”

  I give her hand a squeeze and check on Billy’s proximity. He’s deep in conversation with his cohorts, but spots me immediately. First, he points at me and then toward the parking lot. The meaning is obvious. Get your butt into the car. I smile agreeably and duck behind Paco whose huge bulk obliterates Billy’s view. Thankfully, Paco, who’s just as protective as Billy, is still absorbed in comforting Anna.

  I make myself as small as possible and slip between the men gathered in the hall. Hitchcock’s office has been cordoned off and, as I pass by the conference room, I see two men tending to Moen. Sirens in the distance tell me an aid car is on the way. Nobody challenges me as I walk through the kitchen and out the back door.

  In a matter of minutes, a team of armed men will cover every inch of the compound. The SWAT guy has it right. The residents of New Dawn are not only heavily armed, but practice regularly at the range. As I slip into the shadows, I wonder if they’re capable of functioning without their leader. The alternative is frightening. Guns blasting. Innocent children caught in the crossfire.

  Must find the twins.

  Reluctant to turn on the flashlight until I’m out of sight, I stumble down the rough, winding path leading to Jake’s cabin After I do a face plant on the pine-needle-covered trail, I whisper, “Damn it!” and flip the switch, taking care to aim it directly in front of my feet. Most of the cabins are illuminated and I see people huddled together, hear snatches of worried conversation.

  As I pass by one cabin, a woman calls out to me. “What’s happening?”

  “Not sure,” I say and hurry away.

  Unlike the others, Jake’s cabin is pitch dark and silent. I approach it with caution. The hair on the back of my neck prickles with alarm. If the kids are inside, there may be someone guarding them. A heavily armed someone. I step onto the porch, aim the flashlight at the door and see a hasp fastened with a sturdy padlock. I switch off the flashlight, take a couple of steps to the left and crouch.

  Hopefully out of range if a shooter lurks behind the door, I call, “Kimber? Gunner? It’s Mel.”

  I press my ear against the outside wall. An owl hoots its disapproval. The wind carries a cacophony of voices in the distance. Then, I hear a sound that makes my heart leaps with joy. A faint whimper.

  Tightly closed blinds conceal the windows in the front of the cabin. I switch on the light and hurriedly check the rest of the windows. The last one I check is on the left side and has a narrow gap from slightly askew, bent slats. Thank God for cheap blinds. I focus the beam at the opening and peer through. My breath hitches in my chest when I see the twins curled up together in an overstuffed chair. Gunner appears to be sleeping, his head propped against the arm of the chair. Kimber is wide-awake and clinging to Blossom Bunny. She stiffens and gazes at the window, her eyes wide with fear.

  Shaking with both relief and fury, I wonder what kind of animal locks a pair of five-year-olds in a dark cabin so he can sell them for top dollar. I want to race back to the community hall and give Hitchcock forty whacks.

  I pound on the window. “Kimber, it’s Mel. Hang on, I’m going to break the window.”

  Kimber runs to the window, tears streaming down her face. “Mel,” she sobs. “I knew you would come. I tried to unlock the door and so did Gunner, but we couldn’t.”

  I look around for a big rock and tell Kimber to back away. The window is no match for my pent-up anger.
I shatter it easily and pick at the broken glass. “Kimber, see if you can find a blanket and bring it to me.”

  Gunner, now fully awake, beats her to the bedroom and returns, carrying a heavy comforter. His face is ashen, but he manages a weak smile. “I’m so glad to see you, Mel. Mr. Ken said we were bad and had to be locked up.”

  I spread the comforter across the bottom sill and wriggle my way into the cabin without serious self-harm. After I hug both kids, I tell Gunner, “Mr. Ken is no longer in your lives, but I am and I promise to keep you safe.”

  The kids cling to me like we’re duct-taped together

  Kimber says, “Can we leave now?”

  “Yeah,” Gunner says. “It’s dark and creepy in here.”

  I go to the window. Brilliant lights illuminate the path. Then, Billy’s amplified voice. “This is Detective William McCarty from the 3 Peaks Police Department. I’m here with Sheriff John Dunbar and Special Agent Sanderson. Please remain in your homes. Place your weapons outside the door and wait for further instructions. You are not under arrest. I repeat, you are not under arrest. We will do our best to return you to your homes after the search.”

  I lead the kids to the big chair and settle them on my lap. “Guess what?” I say, hugging them close.

  Together, they say, “What?”

  “The voice you heard belongs to my friend, Billy. I’ve told him all about you and he’ll be here real soon. We’re going to wait right here until he comes. It won’t be long. Is that okay?”

  Kimber slips her arms around my neck and whispers. “Promise you won’t leave us here.”

  “I promise.”

  We snuggle in the chair and, to pass the time, I tell them about another set of twins called Hope and Honor, how they celebrated their birthdays with red and blue balloons.