“Jace, wait.” She drew away, breaths coming in slow gasps as she slid from his lap to stand. “Was Timmy kidnapped or did he run away?”
Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he shoved himself up, turning toward the kitchen. “Is there coffee?”
“Tell me about Timmy.”
“I need coffee first. I’ve been up all night and don’t expect to sleep anytime soon.” Stalking away, he heard her snort of frustration. Grabbing cups and coffee pods, he started hers before turning around.
“The couple discovered him gone a couple hours ago. After searching, they called Vela, who called her husband. Geoff got in touch with Wrath. Timmy left his backpack and clothes, so no, I don’t think he ran. Plus, Vela found fresh mud on the floor between the kitchen and Timmy’s bedroom. More than one set of boot prints.”
Placing a hand to her chest, Ali sat down, taking the cup of coffee he offered. “It must be the bikers.”
“That’s what Wrath and I believe. Geoff and Vela aren’t so certain, but they have to deal in facts. Vela also contacted Ethan. He’s leaning toward our explanation.”
She lifted a brow. “An Amber Alert?”
Grasping his cup, he sat next to her, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “It’s not up to me. They may need more information than the fact a boy is missing.” His calm voice belied the turmoil burning inside him.
Since running away from his mother and her abusive string of boyfriends years before, he’d distanced himself from children going through the same abuse. Raider wasn’t sure if it was a defense mechanism meant to shield him from past pain or a cowardly reaction, an inability to watch the same fear play out on other young faces.
Having spent time with Timmy, he found himself believing it was because of his own failure to confront the past and put it behind him. Checking the time on his phone, he nodded toward her bedroom.
“Get dressed.”
She resisted the urge to plant her feet, crossing her arms. “Why?”
“Vela and Ethan are coming here to go over what we know about Timmy. They want to speak with you about Digger, then we’re paying a visit to Timmy’s mother.”
Oh yeah, she could get behind that. “Five minutes.”
Checking his phone for messages, he glanced up, taking a deep breath as she hurried down the hall. He hadn’t planned to jump her the instant she’d opened the front door. His relief at seeing her unharmed had been immediate and out of his control. He’d wanted to sweep Ali into his arms, let her know how much she meant to him.
Knowing she’d seen him with Heidi, no matter how innocent he believed the brief encounter to be, had gnawed at him since the Brethren touched back down in Liberty Lake in the predawn hours. The nurse telling him she’d heard every word underscored how much what Ali thought meant to him.
He had no intention of calling Heidi and hooking up for dinner or anything else. But Ali didn’t know that. She knew his reputation, and thanks to Dani, believed every word of his reputed exploits.
By some standards, such as Wrangler’s activities before Becca walked back into his life, Raider’s womanizing was tame. Ever since the explosion at WETC, he’d slowed down, preferring to spend his time in other ways, rather than get hot and heavy with some random woman he’d met at Robbie’s.
He’d just started to accept his time with Ali didn’t fall into the same category as those women who passed through his life before her. She was so damn special. Other than his SEAL brothers and grandparents, Ali had come to mean more to him than anyone else. And he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about it.
Laurie Fallon sucked on another cigarette as if it were a lifeline to sanity. Five minutes with her assured Ali the woman had no business raising a child. She’d yet to ask about Timmy. Every question centered on Digger and her.
She kept assuring Vela and Ethan she’d been at work until two in the morning before passing out in an empty upstairs room of the bar. Yes, she’d been alone. No, she knew nothing of Timmy’s disappearance. Yes, the morning janitor had brought her home. No, she hadn’t gone anywhere else. No, she hadn’t seen Digger for the past three days.
Hadn’t heard from him much at all since he’d whisked her from the house where he and a couple other men had held her. But Laurie wouldn’t tell the sheriff and his deputy about that ordeal.
She’d thought Digger planned to kill her, along with her brat of a son, for seeing and hearing too much. Guess he figured kicking her in the ribs, repeated punches to the stomach, and a crisp hundred dollar bill would keep her quiet. As always, Digger was right.
The same as every time he worked her over, no one would notice, although this time she’d coughed up enough blood to worry her. Without insurance or extra money, she treated it with a few shots of cheap liquor. And it was all because of her ungrateful son.
“I don’t know anything about Digger or the kid.” She dropped the cigarette butt on the kitchen floor, grinding it out with the heel of her sandal.
Jaw tight, Ethan leaned toward her. “You have no idea who might’ve taken him?”
“Well, sure. Digger and his friends have no use for Timmy. But why would they take him? Like I said before, the kid probably ran off. He’s been doing it for a while now.” Laurie lit another cigarette, blowing smoke at Ethan and Vela.
Ali sat a few feet away, disgust pumping through her. The woman wasn’t fit to take care of herself, let alone a young boy. She was thin as a reed, probably hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days or weeks, subsisting on cigarettes and alcohol.
Laurie’s gaze landed on Ali, her features contorting. “Are you the nurse who reported me to CPS?”
Ethan gave a brief shake of his head, warning her to let him and Vela handle this. “Your son was moved to a foster family after seeking help at the hospital. I’m certain you’re aware multiple X-rays showed a history of what we believe to be abuse.”
Shoving up, Laurie paced away, removing the cigarette dangling from her lips. “I didn’t do anything to that boy. He’s been a nuisance since the day he popped out. Always crying, wanting things. Never grateful for all I’ve done for him.” Sucking in another lungful of smoke, she coughed, the force of it doubling her over.
Ali fought the urge to go to her, play her role as nurse. Whatever ailed Laurie would take testing and serious treatment. More than she could offer in the cluttered, dirty house.
Standing, she opened cabinets, locating an old, chipped coffee mug and filling it with water. At first, Laurie waved her off before a second bout of coughing forced her to sit back down.
From one of the back rooms, Raider appeared, shaking his head. “No sign of him.”
The others already knew this, but he’d wanted to take one more look around before leaving to search for Timmy. Holding a tattered pair of pants and t-shirt so old the logo couldn’t be read, he set them on the table, his gaze boring into Laurie’s.
“Do you mind if we take these with us, Mrs. Fallon?” Raider knew Ethan owned a blood-detection coonhound, heard he’d been training him for other searches.
“It’s Miss, and you can have anything you want from his bedroom. Just don’t take any of my stuff.”
Scraping his chair against the worn, wood floor, Ethan slid his notepad into a pocket and stood. “I expect to hear from you if Digger or any of his men come around. And if you hear from Timmy.” Handing her his card, he turned to leave.
“I doubt I’ll be seeing either of them, so don’t expect me to call.” She held up the card and tore it in half, scattering the pieces on the filthy floor.
Chapter Nineteen
“The little shit refuses to drink or eat anything, Mario. Just sits on the bed, like some zombie.” Digger headed outside, holding the phone to his ear.
“Has he seen you?”
“Hell no. We wore ski masks and blindfolded him. He’s been in the room since we arrived. Hasn’t eaten anything.”
“Sonofabitch, Digger. You’re supposed to kill the kid, not worry about whether
he’s eating. Do your job and get the hell back here.”
“Consider it done.”
Ending the call, Digger looked around. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, had been since they’d arrived at the house with their package.
There were no houses close by and few trees to hide anyone approaching. He saw no movement, nothing to trigger the unease he felt.
The discomfort started the moment his men had shoved Timmy inside the bedroom and locked the door. A niggling sensation in his gut Digger hadn’t experienced in the past when planning a kill. This one should be simple. A boy of eight wouldn’t cause a problem.
They’d drive several miles into the desert to perform the deed, bury the body, and breathe easier knowing he no longer posed a threat. Digger had done the same at least a dozen times. No hesitancy. No regret. Why did this one feel different, have him on edge?
He knew the answer. This would be the first time he’d killed a child.
Digger reminded himself he wouldn’t see what was coming. He’d be blindfolded with his wrists and ankles tied. The location had already been selected, the hole dug. Hours from now, all the world would know was another kid had disappeared, never to be seen again.
Entering the house, he shot a look at the two men sprawled out in the living room, watching television. They had hours before the sun set. Hours before putting an end to this job.
Placing an ear to the door of Timmy’s room, he heard nothing. The kid had always been quiet. Not shy, but watchful, taking everything in, saying little.
It was the silent, unobtrusive manner which convinced Digger the boy knew too much. The reason he had to be eliminated.
“It’s just another job,” he muttered to himself. Checking the knob, confirming it was locked, he headed to the kitchen for a beer. They never stocked much in the house, but beer was a staple.
As far as the neighbors knew, the owners were purported to be a childless couple in their fifties who used it as a second home. In fact, they were names pulled from a cemetery in another state, both dead and buried years ago.
Once they’d driven off that evening with Timmy, several Night Devils would arrive to clean the house, rid it of any trace anyone had been inside in months.
Timmy worked the zip ties on his wrists, doing what he’d seen on a YouTube video. They’d been secured in front, making the job of breaking them easier.
Scooting to the edge of the bed, he set his feet on the floor and shoved up to stand. It took several seconds to gain his balance. Steadying himself, Timmy twisted his wrists back and forth before lifting his arms above his head. Sweeping them down toward his hips in a fast, decisive motion, he lost his footing and dropped back to the bed, shoulders slumping in disappointment.
The outcome wasn’t anything like the video, where it had seemed so easy. At the time, he’d never imagined having to use the technique, so he might’ve missed something.
Refusing to give up, Timmy shifted and stood, determined to break the ties on his wrists and ankles. Going through the process once more, he almost whooped in relief when the tie ripped away from his wrists. Calming his excitement, he went through the steps to break the bindings around his ankles.
Walking to the door, he tried to hear the men he knew were still in the house. He recognized the sound of the television, but nothing else. The lack of voices bothered him.
He hadn’t seen them, but knew there were at least three, all with distinct voices. One was Digger. Timmy guessed the others were part of the Night Devils or maybe members of MS-13. Either way, they were evil.
Stepping away from the door toward one of the windows, he chanced a look outside. The place had a large yard with what appeared to be a huge field beyond the fence. From this vantage point, he didn’t spot anyone. The men were gone, or maybe passed out someplace in the house.
Hope soaring, Timmy studied the window. It was an older one found in lots of homes built in the sixties and seventies. All he had to do was push the bottom half up, crawl outside, and run.
Licking his lips, he crept to the door once more and listened. A door closed down the hall. Timmy hoped it was to a bathroom, which might mean one of the men would be occupied for a few minutes. Hearing nothing else, he hurried back to the window.
Flipping the lock, he gripped the frame and shoved upward. It didn’t budge. Sucking in a breath, Timmy tried again, getting the same result.
He heard the flush of a toilet before a door opened and heavy footsteps passed by his room. Exhaling a shaky breath, his body trembled, fear wrapping around his small frame.
Timmy knew he had to find a way to unstick the window before they came to check on him. Gaze whipping around the room, he searched for anything that would help. Unless he could break apart the bedframe, he saw nothing.
Staring at the floor, desperation overcame him. As always, he felt completely alone. If only he were taller with the muscles required to force the window to open. Muscles like Raider’s.
Feeling his shoulders vibrate, rocking his entire body, he swiped at a tear before whirling around to face the window. Storming toward it, he lifted his fist. He tapped along the frame, careful not to be so loud the men would hear.
The work had little impact. At least that was what he thought until he tried once again to lift the lower half of the window. Surprised and excited, he bit back the sense of relief when the window moved. Two inches, three, and within seconds the opening had grown at almost a foot, more than enough space for him to slip out.
Bracing his hands on the windowsill, he levered himself up. One leg slithered through the opening, allowing him to balance his body before pulling up his other leg and dropping the short distance to the ground.
Crouching, Timmy looked around. He had a long sprint to the fence in broad daylight. After slipping through the rails, he’d still have to run a good distance before finding the cover of trees and low, sparse bushes.
Taking several calming breaths, he looked one way, then the other, and took off. His thin, short legs pumped wildly as he followed a straight line to the fence. Without stopping, he slid under the lowest rail, the same as he’d learned to do when playing baseball.
Jumping up on the other side, he didn’t glance behind him before racing away. It seemed forever before he reached the first trees. Not big enough to hide him, he continued, having no idea where he was. It didn’t matter as long as he got far away from the house and the men inside.
Digger’s head jerked up, his hand fumbling for the ringing phone in his pocket. Seeing Mario’s name, he groaned. It was still a couple hours before they’d be taking Timmy to his final destination.
“Yeah?”
“Take the kid and get the hell out of there. Let him go several miles from your location.”
Digger straightened in the tattered, overstuffed chair. “What’s going on?”
“Coleman called.” Mario mentioned the dirty FBI agent who’d become their partner, along with several others. “Junior and Wendt are involved in the search for Timmy. That damned nurse went on local TV and radio asking for help in finding the kid. She even mentioned the Devils and her belief we might have some involvement in his disappearance.”
“Fuck.”
“Damned right.” Mario yelled at someone in the background before returning to the call. “Hustle the kid out of there and lose him. I don’t care where, but make sure it’s a long way from us.” He didn’t wait for Digger to respond before ending the call.
“We’re out of here. You two get the kid while I toss our stuff into the truck. And wear the masks.” Digger grabbed his keys, the duffle the three had stuffed with extra clothes, and a ski mask.
Retrieving the truck from one side of the house, he pulled it forward, engine running. He pulled the mask over his head, looking up to see the two men rushing toward him, the taller of the two speaking first.
“He’s gone, Digger.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“The little shit broke the ties and escape
d out the window.”
“Dammit!” Digger’s fist hit the steering wheel. “When?”
“How the hell would we know? Sometime after we checked on him a couple hours ago.”
“Sonofabitch.” Digger knew Timmy could’ve put a lot of distance between them. “Get in the truck. We’ve got to find him.”
Once they were inside, he punched the gas, wheels spinning before gaining traction on the gravel drive, throwing up rock as he pulled onto the county road.
“We need to ditch the truck, Digger. Damn kid probably memorized the plate before leaving.”
He didn’t believe so. Timmy would’ve been in too much of a hurry to get away. “We’re going by the nurse’s house. That’s the first place he’ll go, and I want to be waiting for him.”
“Not a good idea before changing vehicles.”
Other than a grim scowl, Digger didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the traffic around them. “Keep watch for Five-O,” he snorted, referring to the police. Picking up the phone, he hit Mario’s number, dreading the upcoming conversation.
“You get rid of the kid?”
“He got away.”
“What the hell, Digger? He’s eight. How did you let that happen?”
Digger didn’t remember the last time he’d heard Mario so angry. Then it hit him. It was seconds before Mario aimed his pistol at a brother who’d screwed up one time too many. There’d never been an ounce of regret on his prez’s face. He’d set the weapon down, casually throwing out orders, before leaving the old warehouse, mounting his bike and roaring away. Digger found himself grateful he wasn’t anywhere near Mario right now.
“Broke the ties and escaped out the window.”
Mario was quiet for several long moments. Too quiet, and it didn’t bode well.
“You damn well better find him. When you do, bring him here. I want to be sure the kid is dealt with.” Gone unspoken was the implied thought Digger couldn’t be trusted to finish the job right.
Exposed (Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Book 7) Page 13
