Kate washed some pizza down with a soda. “Have you located the man?”
“No. He hasn’t been at the address we have for him in two years. I’m also going to go talk to the neighbors and see if anyone might know where he is now.”
“Things are starting to look up. I have my meeting with Senator Foster on Tuesday and you’ve got some leads to run down. A toast to our success this week.” She held up her can and tapped it against his soda, suppressing a groan from moving her sore arm up.
After tossing her empty paper plate away, Cynthia and Audrey neared the stairs. Cynthia’s dull eyes met Kate’s. “I’m going to go to my room.” She threw Audrey a look. “I mean our room and lie down. I didn’t realize how tired I am.”
Kate released a long breath. “So you two are going to share a room?”
“Yes, it made sense. We both don’t want to be alone.” Audrey took the first step. “I’m helping Cynthia move her things into my room.”
“Good. Do you need me to help?”
Cynthia’s attention shifted from Kate to Wyatt then back to her. The dullness in her expression brightened. “No, you look busy. We can manage. I don’t have a lot.”
As the two girls passed Kate on the stairs, she heard their giggles and whispers. Heat flushed her cheeks. Kate returned her attention to the other students and noticed most of them were watching her and Wyatt. Suddenly, it felt as if fiery flames licked her face. She noticed the quiet and the speculation in each girl’s gaze.
Wyatt leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
“Chicken,” Kate muttered back.
“Yep. Remember I live with a fourteen-year-old, and she often has her friends over. I know those looks we’re getting.”
Kate sat by a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the golf course at Oaks Country Club, staring at the vibrant greens that were dotted with large oaks, elms, and maples. She wrapped her hands around the ice-cold tea and waited for Senator Charlene Foster to return from taking a call. Other than greeting each other and ordering, they hadn’t discussed the program yet. She was wound so tightly she was afraid she’d snap any second. So much hinged on whether the senator meant what she said on Saturday.
She watched the senator and her husband making their way toward the table.
“Kate, you know my husband, Kenneth. He finished playing a round of golf and thought he would join us. I hope you don’t mind. He’s quite interested in your program too.” Charlene slid into the chair across from Kate while Kenneth sat next to his wife.
“I don’t mind. I’m glad you’re interested in Beacon of Hope.” Directing her look at Kenneth, Kate attempted to smile, but the corners of her mouth quivered and her stomach churned. She couldn’t pretend this was a casual lunch.
“Charlene is excited about this new project. That’s all she has been talking about the past few days.” When the waiter approached the table, Kenneth ordered a chicken salad sandwich.
The senator spread her napkin on her lap. “I’m so glad you sent a messenger over with your budget yesterday. Last night I looked over your numbers. I had Kenneth look at it, too. I’m willing,” she slanted a glance at Kenneth, “I mean, we’re willing to donate 65 percent of your monthly budget. I realize the Winslow Foundation was contributing 75 percent from what you had written on the paperwork you gave me. I wish I could go higher, but I can’t.”
“I’ve been working on broadening my base. I’ve approached various organizations and foundations and have filled out their applications. I’m applying for some grants, which I hope will come through in the next several months. But all of this takes time. This will help keep the program going. If the grants come through, then I can do some of the expansion I want to do.” She might have to make cutbacks, but it gave her time to strengthen her contributions for the future. In hindsight, she should never have depended on one source—even if it was family. She’d learned a lesson and would work extra hard to become schooled in the financial end of running a charity.
“I have one stipulation, however,” Charlene said.
“What?” Kate gripped her hands together in her lap, her breath held tightly in her lungs.
“I want to be involved with the program. It would help me to understand these girls’ plight better if I work with them. I could do something a couple of times a month. Maybe teach them about government.”
Kate let out her breath slowly. “What a great idea! Who better to teach about our government and how it works than someone who has been a part of it for twenty years. A young girl being exploited isn’t new. In fact, the number in the United States is growing and is alarming, not to mention what is happening in other parts of the world.”
Charlene grinned. “Great. With all that settled, we can enjoy our lunch before I have to get back to work. I leave for Austin this afternoon. I’ll talk with my attorney and get the details worked out and to you.”
The waiter appeared with their salads and placed the plates in front of them. The knots in Kate’s stomach unraveled one by one as she ate. This was going to work out. For the first time in over a week, hope blossomed inside her. Thank You, Lord.
Charlene sipped her coffee. “I understand you’ve had a bit of trouble at Beacon of Hope.”
Tension twisted inside Kate, and the bite of salad she’d swallowed burned in her throat. “One of my girls is missing and another ran away recently.”
“Does that happen often?” Kenneth asked.
“No, thankfully. I’ve only had a few over the past three and a half years. Most want to be in the program. I work hard to make them feel like they’re not in a prison.”
“Have you found either girl?” Charlene forked a piece of lettuce.
“The police are looking for Rose who is missing. Zarah was in a car wreck and died shortly after she arrived at the hospital.”
Kenneth’s gaze shifted from his wife to Kate. “So you still have one missing? Why did you say she is missing and not a runaway?”
“For one, she didn’t take her possessions with her. Rose was happy where she was and was making plans for the future. That wasn’t the case with Zarah.”
Charlene leaned forward. “See. That’s what I need to find out. What makes one girl want to leave and another stay? Why was Zarah drawn back to her old life? That kind of information will help me in my work at the state level and should also help you.” She took a piece of hot bread and buttered it. “Tell me about the girls.”
Tuesday afternoon Wyatt pulled up to the police department in Lake Royal, the fourth one he had visited that day. The sun beat down upon him relentlessly as he climbed from his truck and made his way toward the entrance into the building.
Part of being in law enforcement was tracking down leads. Most didn’t pan out. But Wyatt only needed one person to recognize Rose.
He approached the officer behind the counter when he entered the small station. “How’s things going?”
“Slow but I’m not complaining, Ranger Sheridan.”
“Is Chief Taylor here?”
“Yup. In his office. Go on back. He always has time for you.”
Taylor’s office door was open, and Wyatt poked his head inside. “Got a minute?”
The police chief glanced up from his computer. “Yeah, I need a break after working on this computer for an hour. I thought it was supposed to make my job easier. I spent the first twenty minutes trying to find the file I needed. I forgot what I named it.”
Wyatt sat in a hard-backed chair in front of Taylor’s desk that took up most of the small office. “I know what you mean. I have to go to my fourteen-year-old daughter for help. I don’t know what I would do otherwise.”
“So I need to hire some teenager to help me with my job?”
“Don’t you have a grandson?”
Taylor’s expression brightened. “Yeah and he’s twelve. Maybe he could help his grandpa.”
“Worth a try.” Wyatt slipped the photo of Rose f
rom the manila envelope and slid it across the desk toward the police chief. “Does this girl look familiar?”
He studied the picture and slowly shook his head.
Wyatt removed the second photo and handed it to Taylor. “This is a computer-generated photo of what the girl might have looked like at nine or ten. Does she look familiar?”
Again, the police chief scrutinized the image. Longer this time. “Nope. What’s this all about?”
“She’s missing.”
“You don’t usually come around showing me a photo of a missing child, especially one this old.” Taylor flicked the paper.
“We’re looking into a ring involving child prostitution.”
“Is she part of it?”
“She figures into it. Not exactly sure where.”
“Sorry I can’t help you.” He pushed the photos back toward Wyatt.
“You keep them. Show them around to your officers. Maybe one of them has seen her. If so, get in touch with me.”
“I sure will. I don’t cotton to people using children for their pleasure.” Taylor rose, taking the pictures out to the bulletin board in the work area of the station and tacking it up. “I’ll make sure every one of my officers checks these out.”
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.” Wyatt shook the chief’s hand.
“Anytime.”
Another dead end. If Rose had ever lived around Lake Royal, Chief Taylor would probably have seen her. The man had an uncanny ability with faces. He never forgot one.
On the way out of the station, his cell blared. “Sheridan here.” It was his mother.
“Wyatt, I’m stuck in traffic. There’s a bad wreck on the expressway. Are you near to pick up Maddie at Ashley’s house? I’m not supposed to be there for another hour, but Jack and me are way across town near Fort Worth. I know I can’t make it even in an hour. Maddie has tumbling lessons. If you can drop her off, I’ll pick her up.”
Jack and his mom were out again. Maybe this was more serious than usual. “Sure.” He started mentally rearranging his schedule. “I’m not far from Bluebonnet Creek.”
“Thanks, hon. See you later. Jack and me are bringing home dinner. I confessed that I’m not a very good cook. We laughed about Saturday night.”
“That’s nice, Mom. Bye.” He heard more than his mother’s words. Behind the words, he glimpsed his mother’s attraction to Jack, stronger than to anyone recently. Maybe he’d better do some checking into Jack Reagan—to make sure his mother wouldn’t get hurt. He’d put it on his to-do list. Most likely, by the time he discovered anything, Jack would be old news.
He hopped into his truck and made a U-turn in front of the police station then headed toward Bluebonnet Creek. This wouldn’t be much out of his way since he had to go near the town to get to Silverwood, his next stop on his list. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up into Ashley’s driveway. Laughter and shouting echoed through the hot afternoon air. Ashley had a pool and no doubt the girls would be outside swimming, just as any sane person would be, given the opportunity on a day like this.
He made his way to the side yard and through the iron gate. He followed the sounds of merriment.
“I can do a bigger cannonball than that,” Kelly was saying when Wyatt rounded the corner of the house.
Kelly jumped high into the air, rolled herself into a tight ball and landed with a big splash into the pool.
His daughter put her hand on her waist. “Nope. Ashley’s was bigger. But I can beat—”
He didn’t hear the rest of what Maddie said because his gaze zeroed in on a dolphin tattoo peeking out of the low-riding waistband of her bikini. He wasn’t sure what upset him more—the skimpy bathing suit or the tattoo.
12
Maddie,” Wyatt said in a surprisingly calm voice while inside he raged. His daughter had gone behind his back when he’d expressively told her no bikinis or tattoos.
Maddie spun around, her eyes huge.
He stalked over to her bathing suit wrap lying on a chaise lounge and snatched it up, then tossed it to her. “Put this on. You’re leaving. Now.”
“I have to get my stuff inside.”
“Get it. Meet me out front.” He strode back the way he’d come.
He sat behind the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly pain shot up his arms. The heat in his cab without the air-conditioning vied with the heat suffusing him when he remembered seeing both the bikini and tattoo. Even worse, he hadn’t realized how much his little girl was turning into a young woman. Where was the child he used to read bedtime stories to and hold when she hurt herself falling off her horse?
The passenger door opened. Maddie climbed up into the truck and faced forward, her hands clasping the strap of her gym bag.
Anger tied his thoughts into a knot. His teeth ground together.
“Dad, I can explain.”
“I doubt it.”
“Nana knows about the bikini and tattoo. She said it was okay.”
“I see. So then it’s all right to go against what I asked you not to do?”
“Well, I . . . You’re being unreasonable. Everyone has one. No one wears a one-piece suit anymore. And as I told you, the tattoo is a henna one. It will fade with time.”
“So that’s what makes it all right for you to disobey me?”
“I didn’t say that. You don’t understand what it’s like to be a girl. You don’t . . .” Her voice faded into a tearful sound.
He wondered when she would try that. He hated to hear someone cry, but that wasn’t going to change anything. “I’m taking you home to change out of that,” his gaze slanted toward her still in her bathing suit and cover up, “swimsuit. Then I’m taking you to tumbling class. Your grandmother will pick you up from there. We’ll talk about this later.”
Maddie sighed.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook for disobeying me. If I grounded you right now, your friends wouldn’t see you until your tattoo wore off.”
“That’s weeks—Oh.” Maddie snapped her mouth closed.
“In conclusion, be cautious when approached by strangers whether female or male, young or old, especially at places like a mall or where teens hang out. Before doing something with a person check them out with friends like an employer checks out a prospective employee’s references. You can never be too careful.” Not until Kate finished the last word of her presentation did she stop shaking. Giving a speech had never been one of her favorite things to do, but she felt so passionate about this subject she had no choice but to do this. “Are there any questions?” She scanned the audience of middle-schoolers. A skinny boy in the back of the auditorium waved his hand. “Yes?”
He stood up, all six feet of him. “Why are guys having to listen to this?”
A few snickers erupted around the student, and he grinned. The principal moved down below the stage to position himself in front.
Kate pasted a smile on her face, half expecting this question. The boy wasn’t the first one to ask her that. “Because predators don’t confine themselves to girls only. Boys have been caught up in the kind of situations I’ve discussed. And I think it’s important to raise everyone’s awareness about what’s happening to some of the kids in this country. Thousands and thousands.”
The teenager slinked back into his seat, his face flushed red.
“Any more questions?”
A girl at the end of a row in the middle rose. “What can we do to protect ourselves?”
“As I said, check people out. What school do they go to? Who are their friends? Listen to your gut. So many times something bothers you, but you dismiss the feeling. Don’t. If you’re having a problem at home, talk to a school counselor, your pastor, someone who can help you. Running away is not the answer. So many runaway teens end up on the street in horrible situations they can’t get out of.”
Ten minutes later Kate shook the principal’s hand then headed for the back of the auditorium and the exit. After the luncheon and this presentation, all she wan
ted to do was sleep, but she needed to go back to Beacon of Hope and work with the students on the plans for the open house.
Leaving the building, she crossed the west parking lot toward her rental car. Waves of suffocating heat came off the asphalt making it difficult to take a decent breath.
“Ms. Winslow?”
Kate halted at her car door and turned toward a girl, probably sixteen or seventeen. “Yes?”
“I need to talk to you about what you said to the kids.”
“Do you go to this school?”
“No. I go to Roosevelt High School. It’s not one of the year- round schools. But I heard you were going to be talking today. I don’t live far from here.”
“What do you need to talk about?”
“My sister, Zarah, called me last week. I just found out that she’s dead. A car wreck. She told me to come to you if anything happened to her.”
Wyatt pushed through the door into the Silverwood Police Station. The last stop on his list of police departments. He hoped one of the other rangers was more successful than he had been. He’d come up with nothing. Maybe Daniel’s database search for Rose’s parents would go better.
Silverwood wasn’t one of the police departments he worked with on a regular basis, but he knew the police chief had been serving the town for almost ten years. He’d found that in small towns with a police force that didn’t change much there weren’t many people in the area the officers didn’t know. He was counting on that to help him find where Rose came from. If he knew how Rose ended up a part of a prostitution ring, he might be able to track the people behind it.
He saw Police Chief Bo Jeffers a few steps inside the front door. Wyatt held out his hand and said, “We met last year on the Lindaman case. I’m Ranger Wyatt Sheridan.”
The six-foot three-inch man with graying hair at the temples and a barrel chest shook Wyatt’s hand. “Yes, I remember. Glad I could help with the case. What brings you around these parts?”
Saving Hope: Men of the Texas Rangers Book 1 Page 16
