“Sure, you would. It would have been a perfect cover to keep an eye on her. You would have then been in position to deal with her when the time came.”
“Are you serious? I could never hurt Tasha! You’re the ones! You’ve done something to her! Where is she?”
More glances from Ananke’s colleagues. Even Ricky appeared to be rethinking the woman’s involvement in Patterson’s disappearance.
Ananke thought for a moment before saying, “If you were in a real relationship with her, why did she contact others but not you after April fifth?”
“How did you know that?”
“That’s not the question.”
“The hell, it isn’t. If you didn’t take Tasha, then who are you and why do you care?”
Rosario and Liesel gave Ananke a nod, encouraging her to tell Harris the truth.
“We’re here at the request of a friend of Tasha’s who’s worried something happened to her.”
“Friend? What friend?”
“Scott Davos.”
“Davos,” Harris said, not like she was surprised, but like it made sense. “If that’s true, then we want the same thing.”
“Not so fast. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“About being contacted?” Harris let out a short laugh. “Bradbury might be modernizing, but it’s not so progressive yet that a relationship between…someone like her and me would be universally accepted. We’ve kept it quiet. No one, and I mean no one, knows. We set up a special email account that we use only for each other. Whoever sent out those messages pretending to be her must have used the contacts from her main email account. I’m not on that list, so they knew nothing about me.”
That made sense. “When you suspected she was missing, why didn’t you report it? You’re a cop.”
“The answer isn’t any different. If I did, and it turned out she really wasn’t missing, I, for sure, would be forced out of town. My hometown. And Scolareon would be pressured to fire Tasha. I have no proof other than my gut, but I’m the only woman cop in the whole department. Even if I pretended Tasha was just a friend, do you really think my bosses would listen to me?”
“So that’s why you put the wire traps around her house?”
Harris’s eyes widened. “How do you know about those?”
“Because we’ve seen you check them.”
Harris was silent for a few seconds. “Look, Tasha told me that if anything happened to her to contact Scott Davos, so the first thing I did was email him. If he really sent you here, it’s because of me.”
“Why would she think something was going to happen to her?”
“I honestly believed she was joking when she told me. It was about two months ago, maybe a little less. She didn’t make a big deal of it, but she did tell me not to forget.”
Ananke nodded, and looked at Liesel and Ricky. “Untie her.”
After the cords had been removed, Harris stretched her arms and gingerly touched her head.
“Uh, yeah, about that,” Dylan said. “We weren’t trying to crack your skull open or nothing, just keep you from ripping the boss’s eyes out. Sorry.”
“I would have if you hadn’t,” Harris said.
“You would have tried,” Ananke corrected her.
Harris looked as if she wasn’t so sure.
“How was Tasha before she disappeared?” Ananke asked. “Was she acting strange? Different?”
Harris looked around. “Is that aspirin?”
Dylan handed her the glass of water and opened the pill bottle. “How many?”
“All of them?”
“How about we go with four. That sounds like an excessive but not too excessive amount, if you know what I mean.”
She downed the pills, then said to Ananke, “I’m not telling you anything else until we have an understanding.”
“We do have an understanding. If you don’t cooperate, we tie you back up and leave you here until we’ve completed our mission.”
“You won’t do that.”
Ananke said nothing.
“I share what I know and you share what you know,” Harris said. “That’s the deal.”
“No.”
Harris stared at Ananke as if she expected her to change her answer. But Ananke remained silent.
“Fine,” Harris said. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but from this point forward you keep me updated on your progress. And when you find her, I’m the first to know.”
“Officer Harris, Morgan, I respect and understand your desire to remain engaged in the search. Here’s my deal, nonnegotiable. You will answer all our questions, and when necessary, provide any assistance we might require. This could range from using the police department’s resources, to giving us rides, to anything else we might think of. In return, I will inform you first when we find her. There will be no updates or sharing of information. With the exception of what I’ve already told you, this is a one-way street, you to us.”
Ananke held out her hand. After a moment, Harris shook it. “Fine.”
“Good. Now, about Tasha’s mood before she disappeared.”
“Something was definitely bothering her. She had a hard time sleeping and was more frustrated than usual.”
“What do you mean by frustrated?”
Harris thought for a moment. “Like she’d lost something she couldn’t find.”
“What about struggling with something she couldn’t figure out?” Ricky asked.
“That’s it! Yes.”
“Did you ask her about it?” Ananke said.
“All the time, but she just said it was work stuff, and not to worry. I assumed that’s what it was.”
“And she never told you anything else?”
“No.”
Ananke looked around the room. “Did she leave anything else here other than clothes and the book on the nightstand?”
Harris glanced at the memoir. “She’d bring her briefcase, but would always take it with her when she left. That was about it.”
“Do you know if she ever had problems with Kyle Scudder?”
“Not that I’m aware of. As far as I know, they got along well, and he was happy with the job she was doing.”
“Is there anyone she might have mentioned that she was having an issue with?”
“No, no one.”
“Who were you trying to catch with the traps at her house?” Rosario asked.
Some of the strength drained from Harris. “I’m not sure. I guess I thought if someone had taken her, maybe they would come to search her place. But I can’t deny there was a part of me that also wondered if this was some kind of ploy to break things off, and maybe I’d catch her sneaking back.”
“I gotta say, that’s verging on stalker territory,” Dylan said.
Ricky shrugged. “I’ve done worse.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything if it were true,” Harris said. “I just wanted to know where I stood and didn’t want to be ghosted.”
They clarified a few more points, but gained little new information.
“Can we trust you not to blow our cover?” Ananke asked.
“If I say no, will you kill me?” Harris asked. “No, I won’t turn you in. Unless I find out you’ve been lying to me.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Twenty
The last thing Eduardo remembered was the clunk-clunk, clunk-clunk, clunk-clunk of the big rig’s wheels and the sway of the trailer lulling him to sleep. But as his consciousness returned, he realized not only were both gone, so were the rumble of the truck’s engine and the snores of his traveling companions.
Everything was quiet. Deathly quiet.
He pried his eyelids open, both feeling as if they weighed a million pounds, and had to quickly shade his eyes from the glare of light. After they adjusted, he saw he was in a gray-walled room.
He tried sitting up, but an intense swirl of vertigo kept him down. Eyes squeezed shut, he waited until the world stopped spinni
ng, and tried again. His head swam again, but not as badly, and he made it all the way up.
His bed was a cot, sitting on a platform a few feet above the room’s floor. The disturbing discovery was the large transparent box containing him.
He rose unsteadily to his feet and put a hand on the wall. Not glass, but thick plastic.
He tried to push it but it was anchored in place, and all he managed to do was rock the whole thing—cover and platform—an inch or two in either direction.
He scanned the room. His wasn’t the only boxed-in platform. There were six others, lined up against two of the walls. Though the room had a heavy-looking door on the far side, there were no windows.
He turned his attention to the other—enclosures? Cells?—looking for Sonya. He’d promised to protect her. All but one of the boxes were empty, however, and the one that wasn’t held a man sitting on his cot, facing the other way.
Eduardo slapped the wall. “Hey! Hey! Over here!”
The man didn’t move.
“Sir, please!” Eduardo yelled louder. “Behind you!”
Not a twitch.
Eduardo hit the wall harder, but the man remained motionless. Eduardo attempted to rock his cell into the adjacent cell, hoping to start a chain reaction that would bump the man’s platform, but as much as he pushed, he couldn’t get his platform to move enough.
He cupped his hands against the plastic and repeatedly yelled, “Over here!”
When the man stood, Eduardo thought he’d finally gotten through to him, but then Eduardo noticed movement in his periphery.
The door had swung open, and two men had entered. Both were Caucasian, the older one in his forties at least, but the younger one looked to be around Eduardo’s age. They both wore blue jeans and long-sleeved, buttoned work shirts.
They headed straight for the other guy’s cell, but as they crossed the room, the older man noticed Eduardo watching them. He said something to his companion. The young guy continued to the other caged man, but the older one changed course toward Eduardo.
As the man neared Eduardo’s cell, he grinned.
Eduardo shouted, “Where’s Sonya?”
The man pointed at his ears, signaling he couldn’t hear.
Eduardo hit the transparent wall. “Where’s Sonya?”
The man’s eyebrows rose, and he held up a hand in the universal signal to wait. Kneeling in front of Eduardo’s platform, he fiddled with something underneath. Suddenly there was a low buzz in the cell.
The man stood again and said, “Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?” His voice came from under the cot and sounded distant, like the guy was standing too far from a microphone.
“Where’s Sonya?”
“Sonya? No women in this room, amigo.”
“Where is she?” Eduardo demanded.
“Now, hold on. Let’s see. You came in last night, right?”
“Tell me where she is.”
“She, uh, older or younger?”
“Younger. Eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” The man shook his head and whistled in surprise. “Sorry to tell you this, but she’s probably a thousand miles from here by now. Don’t you worry, though. I’m sure her new owners will treat her in the way she deserves.” The man laughed.
Owners? What the hell did that mean? “Where is she, goddammit?”
“Better you worry about your own hide.”
Across the room, the young guy said, “Ready.”
The older man looked over his shoulder and then back at Eduardo. “You might want to get a little more rest. If we need you this afternoon, you’ll want to be sharp.”
“You can’t hold me like this! Let me out! Let me out!”
Somewhere in the middle of Eduardo’s rant, the man had reached down and turned off the communications system.
But Eduardo kept yelling.
Slater and his assistant, Bryan, rolled the holding cell into the work room, and set about prepping the prey for trial number two. Trial one’s soon-to-be trophy was in his cage on the other side of the space, sitting on his cot, stunned.
This was the most common reaction. Slater had seen it dozens of times. The this-can’t-be-happening cloud that descended after a prey had their tracking chip embedded at the base of their neck and been told what was going to happen. The second most common reaction was enraged pacing and shouting. Little did this latter group know that, by using up so much energy, they were only making things worse for themselves. Members of this group seldom ever lasted more than the first hour, whereas someone who’d reacted with shock might make it two hours or even three before they found themselves in the crosshairs.
Once number two was ready, Slater said, “Let Monica know the prey are ready to go. I’ll be back later.”
“Yes, sir.”
Slater headed upstairs and exited at the back of the lodge. His cousin’s car was gone, the man no doubt putting in an appearance at his day job. Slater was glad he didn’t have to worry about anything like that, and could concentrate on the bigger picture.
Between trials, he was free to plan where his and his brother’s cash would be used to further the cause. Slater was the one who’d picked out the land they’d bought in northern Montana, which would someday be the heart of their glorious free state, where like-minded people would find none of the crap the rest of the country had been collecting.
He whistled as he climbed into his truck, and started the drive to Green Hill Estates.
Chapter Twenty-One
While there was no concrete evidence Kyle Scudder was involved with the human trafficking scheme, it was hard to believe he wasn’t somehow part of it. Tasha Patterson worked for him. She disappeared after visiting one of his facilities. Secret shipments of, presumably, people were processed through his factory by his employees. And, from what Ananke and the others had discovered at his facility, the people may have even been stored there at one time.
It was time Ananke had a little talk with Scolareon’s owner.
Unlike with Officer Harris, they couldn’t just break into Scudder’s house or office and wait for him. Nor would it be wise to tie him to a chair and pepper him with questions until he broke. Not yet, anyway.
Fortunately, Ananke had a legitimate way to get to him.
She pulled out the business card he’d given her at the party and called his cell.
“Kyle Scudder.” True to his word, he answered his own line.
“Good morning, Mr. Scudder. It’s Shawn Ramey.”
She expected him to take a moment to recall her name, but there wasn’t even a beat before he said, “Shawn, nice to hear from you. And, please, if I didn’t say it last night, you should call me Kyle.”
“Thanks. I’m calling because you mentioned being willing to talk about your experiences here in Bradbury. I was wondering if we might get together. I know this is short notice, but are you free for lunch?”
“Hold on a second.” The line went quiet. When Scudder came back on, he said, “I’m supposed to have lunch with one of my production managers, but between you and me, I’d love an excuse to cancel. So, I’m definitely free. Twelve-thirty?”
“That would be great.”
“Have you tried TJ’s Grill yet? It’s on Pine Avenue, just off Main Street.”
“I have not.”
“Let’s meet there.”
“Sounds great. Thank you for making the time.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you then.”
“See you then.” Ananke hung up, filled in the others, then said, “Liesel and Dylan, I want you nearby, monitoring the meeting remotely. Rosario and Ricky, find Dalton Slater and see if you can get a tracking bug on his truck.”
Ananke arrived at TJ’s Grill at exactly twelve-thirty. In place of her normal comm mic, she’d equipped herself with a Spedzine 23XT concealed microphone that was guaranteed to evade ninety-nine percent of electronics sweeps by shutting down the moment it picked up any detection equipment.
Dylan, who ha
d eaten at the restaurant thirty minutes earlier, had attached a signal booster under the diner’s lunch counter before he left. During the meeting with Scudder, he and Liesel would be strolling the neighborhood, “researching her novel” while listening in on wireless earpieces.
At the start, though, they waited in their rental car across the street, keeping an eye out in case Scudder brought any muscle with him. There was no reason to believe he knew Ananke wasn’t on the up and up, but plenty of missions had been blown by similar assumptions.
As Ananke climbed out of her car, she whispered, “Test, test.”
“Loud and clear,” Liesel said in her ear.
“Your date’s already inside,” Dylan chimed in. “I recommend the roast beef sandwich. It was pretty tasty.”
Ananke silenced her phone so that she wouldn’t be distracted while questioning Scudder, and entered the restaurant. Scolareon’s CEO had claimed a table along the wall. If it was a big deal for the founder of Bradbury’s largest company to be gracing the small café with his presence, there was no sign of it.
He rose as she approached and pulled out her chair for her.
“Thank you,” she said as she sat. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not. You’re right on time. I had some business on this side of town so I arrived a few minutes early.”
“I didn’t realize Scolareon was so spread out.”
“Not Scolareon. I have investment stakes in a few of the smaller firms that have moved here.”
She raised an eyebrow. “From before or after they arrived?”
A small grin. “Let’s just say I’ve provided the encouragement for a relocation or two.”
“Convenient.”
He acknowledged this with a smile and picked up his menu. “You really can’t go wrong with anything here. The burgers are good. The barbeque chicken’s delicious, but messy. If you’re vegetarian, their cobb salad is tasty.”
She perused her menu. “What are you getting?”
“The salad. I’ve got a busy afternoon, and if I eat too much, I’ll want to take a nap.”
She laughed because she knew it was expected. “The salad sounds perfect.”
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