by J. D. Allen
Jim stepped over the dead body and headed for the stairs to the basement. The scene was going to be hard to see for him as well. Maybe he should shield her and deal with it. She stepped up next to him.
“Maybe you should go—”
“I need to do this. Not you. Last thing these women want to see is another scary-looking man.” She sneered at him.
“I’m not scary!”
“Right now you are.” He looked at himself in the reflection of a window. She was right. His shirt was torn, his eyes red and running, and his lip had managed to get busted in the mêlée. He was a mess.
He wasn’t sure which was worse: how badly he’d scare the girls or how badly the state of the girls was going to scar Erica.
30
Jim had to text Miller. Meanwhile back at the ranch …
He included the street address from his phone’s GPS and a quick sorry.
“We may have half an hour before cops get here.” Erica acknowledged him as he tossed his torn, pepper-spray-covered plaid shirt in the trash. That left him in a black tee. He rinsed his eyes one more time and used the water to rinse his head as well before they headed downstairs.
“That’s better. I guess.” She touched his busted lip. He’d lost the urge to pull away from her at every opportunity.
Jim led the way with Erica tight on his heels. He hesitated about halfway down. O had to have eliminated his targets down here.
“More bodies.” And he’d seen snippets of those videos. “The girls. They could be the worst thing you’ve ever seen,” he whispered. “Worse than the bodies or anything you could imagine.”
She put her hand on his back. “They need us, Korey. These poor women need us to be strong and to be human. No matter how bad it is in there, we have to make it better. That’s what Chris was trying to do.”
She was right. But thinking that was one thing; seeing the broken lives left in the wake by the horrors people inflict on others could change your life. He knew. Saw it in his business all the time. Marriages, families, lives broken and torn by greed and lust. The stories some guy told you he heard about from some other guy. Usually there were six degrees of separation to buffer from the atrocity. But this? This was the stuff of movies and late-night news stories. All live action.
Erica was holding strong. She had been sheltered from this kind of shit and here she was. Most people would have crumbled long before now in this situation. She was still standing tall, still telling him what to do.
“Keep it soft, quiet. Move slow,” she whispered. Erica Floyd, all grown up, impressed the shit out of him.
Whether he liked it or not, she was bringing back a hint of his humanity; even in the middle of this fucked-up situation, she’d managed to find something left of Korey Anders. He nodded. She gave him a little squeeze.
He put his game face on and moved down the rest of the flight of stairs like a tiger hunting prey, slow, deliberate, and aware of every sound and scent in the place. The men upstairs, the remnants of the flashbang. At the base of the stairs he stepped in, knife drawn and at the ready. Dead guy at the bottom.
Jim scanned from one end to the other of a large open room with a set of sliding glass doors. In the middle. Walk-out basement. A closed interior door was all the way on the far end. No other escape routes or danger spots.
The only occupants were two very young women and another dead guy. A brunette on a small sofa looking out the sliding glass doors. She was naked, old bruises peppered her skin, her hair dirty and matted. No concern about the death around her.
The second was lying on a dirty mattress on the floor near the far wall. Also nude, on her side, and facing away from them. The poor girl’s skin was pale, very pale, her short hair very blonde. The marks on her body stood out bright and angry. Her thighs were covered in deep lash marks. Jim felt ill. But at least they weren’t in the cages.
Erica’s sharp intake of breath must have mirrored his own. She started for the girl on the couch. Neither had responded when Jim and Erica entered the room.
Jim stopped Erica’s attempt to pass him by and tilted his head at the closed door. She understood he needed to check it first, but let her anxiousness be known with an angry scowl that told him to hustle. She wanted to get to the girls. “I know,” he mouthed as he moved off, trying to be smooth and slow, as she’d instructed. He turned the knob. Not locked. He peeked in. Big closet. Some linen. Cleaning supplies. Three dog crates.
At his signal, Erica eased onto the couch next to the girl. Her attention swung from the unknown object in the distance to Erica. Her brows drew, she looked a little confused, but quickly laid back and opened herself up as if Erica was there to have her way with her. Frail hands fell to her breasts as if to display them. “How may I please you?” Her words were practiced, her smile forced.
Jim closed his eyes. Swallowed his anger. If this was Zant’s doing—and everything seemed to be pointing that direction—Jim would be the one to make that man pay. How had he let himself be manipulated, basically owned, by a man who could order things like this done, partake in it himself? The horrible thing he’d done to get his cousin out of Zant’s clutches was nothing compared to knowing what Zant had done to these girls. Directly or indirectly. By not putting a stop to Zant before now, he was partially responsible for that girl’s condition.
“No. Sweetie.” Erica pushed her thin legs together. Tried to give her a simple smile. “Sit up here with me for a minute.”
She needed help to sit up. Her head lolled back and then flopped to the side as Erica pulled her back into a sitting position. Certainly drugged. Erica eased her against her chest. Held her there, pushed her hair back out of her eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Lola.”
“That’s pretty. Where do you live, Lola?”
“I don’t know.” She looked up at Erica with heavy eyes. “Do you?” Her left eye was healing from a nasty blow, much worse than the one on Erica’s face. The lingering bruise was green and brown and yellow, like a bad sixties painting. There were a few others on her body at different stages of healing, but most had to be days old. They were letting them heal up as much as possible before taking them to the next stage. That eye was probably still rather sore. Jim figured the girl was too drugged to care at the moment.
“We’ll find out. Okay?”
Lola didn’t answer. She let Erica rock her. Closed her eyes.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Erica was still talking in a low, soft motherly voice.
Lola fought to raise her head and look over at the mattress. “Oh.” There was a moment’s hesitation. “That’s Lola too.”
The girl snaked her arms around Erica and rested her face on Erica’s chest. Jim could see her body tremble from ten feet away. “But I was the first Lola. I’m better trained.” She looked up to Erica again. Big fat tears poured from her eyes. “Take me with you. I’ll be real good. Do just what you say to. I swear it.”
Erica looked at him over the trembling girl’s head as she held her. The once laughing green eyes that Jim had loved so much as a younger man were now filled with loathsome anger. He was witness to a moment that would forever change the woman before him. He’d never again get to see her as carefree and light as she had been back in Ohio. Before he was changed, before this changed her. She was silently pleading with him to do something. To fix this. He couldn’t. Life happened to a person. That was the lesson he’d learned long ago. He looked down, wishing it were different.
When he met her gaze again, Erica bit her lip to stop its tremble. He watched as she steeled herself. As she hardened to this world. “Find them some clothes. Take ’em off those bastards up there if you have to.”
A job. Action was good. “Yes, ma’am.”
He made his way past the two living suspects upstairs, not caring if they got help anytime soon or not. As a matter of fact, while Erica was soot
hing the girls … He grabbed the guy bleeding badly from his neck and jerked him pretty hard. Jim was standing over him. Holding his shirt. “That looks like it hurts.”
“Fuck you.”
“You like that kind of thing?” Jim turned him a little to the side and pretended to check out the man’s ass. “Huh.” Never in a million years of forced celibacy, but this guy didn’t know that. “I think I will.” He yanked him up and dragged his body over to the couch and dropped him, facedown. He landed with his chest on the cushions and his ass facing Bean. Jim kicked his feet apart. All the movement had to hurt. The guy had to think about getting violated … just like the girls downstairs …
“Oh fuck this.” The man struggled. Jim ground his knee into the dude’s back. He wiggled the guy’s huge wallet around, the god-awful chain jingled against his side as Bean got it from the pocket. The stupid ass would think Jim was trying to cop a feel.
Cash. Not much. Not one credit card. “No ID?” He grabbed the guy’s spiked hair and turned his head. The bleeding increased. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Fuck you.”
Jim dropped his head—well, slammed his head—to the cushion. The guy curled as best he could around the front of the couch. He was all but crying.
The other one, the one still on the floor, moaned. That one was no use. His jaw was shattered. Jim felt it when the slapjack connected with his narrow face. No way he was talking. Not for eight to ten weeks, anyway.
“Who is the thin man that headed out?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Jim put his thumb over the bullet hole. Little bit of pressure. Amazing how little it takes when a guy knows you’re willing. “Good thing my friend uses a small caliber, dude. Would have hated to have had you lose your head.”
That had to hurt too. The poor man was probably just babysitting the girls. Easy money. Money to keep this pathetic ranch running. Or money for drugs. Or prostitutes. Or video games. Right now the guy was wishing he’d found other employment. Jim pushed just a hairsbreadth harder, his thumb poked inside the ragged wound. Cursing turned to quiet, still crying.
“We call him Earl. Don’t know nobody’s real names. Honest.” He was shaking. About to hit his threshold.
“Who was coming to pick up the girls?”
“I swear. I don’t know. Earl was in charge. I was just supposed to make sure the girls stayed in the house. That’s all.”
“How long?”
“Saturday night.” He tried to pull away from the pressure. Jim applied more. “Just till Saturday. And someone was gonna take them.” His feet started to twitch and wriggle. His breathing was fast and shallow. Jim should keep at him till the little fuck’s heart exploded.
“Where from there?”
He shook his head in a short, brisk movement. He knew Jim wouldn’t like that answer, but Jim was danged sure it was the truth. Nothing like pushing on a gunshot wound to bring the honesty out in a man.
“Clean clothes somewhere?”
Jim let go of his neck, his body relaxed. “What?”
“I was hoping you’d leave those assholes naked and scared like the girls were.”
“Considered doing that. Believe me, they’re not happy. Miller will be here soon. If we want to get them to that nun, we need to move it.”
“Okay.”
“Can you manage while I go get the Escalade?”
Erica barked out a laugh that made Lola jump. “No. I can’t manage this. Not the whole of the thing, but yes, I can manage to get them dressed.” She looked at the two lying there listless. “Kind of like the end of the night at one of the old house parties. Back in college.”
Back when you still loved me. He thought it. She left the words unspoken but he saw her face. She was looking for comfort. He wasn’t capable of that at the moment. Too much anger. Disgust.
“Minus the injuries and the abuse.” He handed her the knife. “Keep this close.”
“Like I’m going to do anything with it.”
“You will or you won’t. I would suggest you do if needed.” He turned for the steps. “I’ll pull it around the back to the sliding glass.” He tossed her the clothes, turned away. Faced the wall, but there was a velvet Elvis print on the wall. Strange to see the King reflecting this reality, so he turned back.
She inspected the jeans for size and eyed the girls. Both pairs were going to be huge. She found a length of cording around the ancient green drapes pushed off to one side of the glass doors. Used his knife to cut it down to the size of two belts.
“Lola, sweetie.” The brunette opened her eyes again. She took a moment to remember Erica. “Can you put these jeans on for me? We need to go.”
Her eyes got big. She sprang up to a sitting position. “Oh. No. No, we can’t go nowhere. Earl. He’ll get real mad again.” She looked over at the blonde Lola. “We stay here and as we were born.” She nodded. “Just like we’re told.”
Jim felt ill. He remembered what Oscar had said at one point. These girls may wish they had died once they sobered up, realized what had been done to them. How would they ever find a way to function in the real world again? They’d been brainwashed, conditioned to want to be good for their captors. Beaten down so badly that they’d lost all sense of self.
Erica turned the girl so she was looking her directly in the eye. She wanted to make sure Lola believed the next thing she said. “Remember, you’re mine now. I bought you from Earl.” Erica let that lie set for just a second. “And not just you, but Lola too.”
That Lola’s face scrunched. It looked angry in the reflection, but Jim knew she was trying to think through the drugs. Believe what she heard.
“But I need to call her something different so I can keep you two straight. What should we call her?” Erica situated the jeans at Lola’s feet like she was a child. Turned her attention to something productive. Nice work. The young woman stepped into them and tentatively stood. The pants were gaping around her hips and waist. Erica quickly rolled up the legs so she wouldn’t trip on them and then laced the cording around the belt loops and tied it snug.
“Connie. I think her name should be Connie.”
“Okay.” Erica grabbed the other pants. “Let’s get Connie dressed so we can go get some food.”
“Food?” Lola was waking up a little more. “What … what kind of food?”
“What would you like?”
“Anything but oatmeal and bologna.”
Jim wondered how long they’d been fed that particular diet.
“How about a cheeseburger?”
She nodded again, with even more vigor. But when she stood to assist Erica with Connie, Lola lost her balance and wilted to the bed. Her eyes fluttered with the effort it was costing her to remain coherent. “I’m …”
“It’s okay, Lola.” She patted her gently on the shoulder. Jim waited to be called to help but Erica was able to move Connie. The tiny, young girl couldn’t weigh much more than a case of glass-
bottled beer.
She rolled the blonde onto her back and Erica gasped. Jim spun to check the room for threats, but apparently it was the bruised state of the girl’s face and chest that had Erica shaking. That and the welts on her thighs. The poor girl must have fought them hard. How could this happen to a child not more than nineteen or twenty? In this country, for fuck’s sake.
Erica took in several breaths. Jim clenched his teeth and willed himself not to march up those stairs and rip those bastards up there to shreds with his bare hands. He could do it and never lose an instant’s sleep over it.
“I want to help,” Lola said. She looked to be concentrating on being stable. Maybe realizing now that leaving with Erica would be better than staying here with Earl and his friends.
Erica handed Lola the shirt. “Get this on first.”
Erica worked the jea
ns over Connie’s feet as Lola fought the T-shirt. She got the jeans almost all the way up before Lola had managed the shirt. But she’d gotten her bare chest covered and seemed quite proud of the accomplishment. “Did it.” She gave Erica a braces-straightened-perfect grin.
“You did. Now. When I lift Connie’s hips, you tug up her pants.”
Lola smiled. “Okay.” And she positioned her angle to be optimal. Erica lifted. Lola pulled, shimmied that denim, and once she worked the waistband past Connie’s hips, they slid right up. Erica tied them off with the other length of cord. She heard one the men holler from upstairs. It was muted through the closed door.
Lola froze. Her body shook. “Earl might catch us.” She backed away.
The fear in Lola’s eyes was contagious. Jim felt it wafting through the room. They were dressed. He felt like he could get back into the conversation. “Look at me. Earl’s dead. You’re coming with Erica. Do you understand?” It was a lie, but he’d make it a truth as soon as he got the chance.
“Dead?” Lola bit her lower lip and fingered the fabric on the shirt. She’d only glance at him, her dead gaze clinging to Erica. “Go with you.” She nodded.
Connie’s torso was so frail-looking as Erica eased her up and managed to work the shirt over her arms and head.
“No shoes, but at least they’re not naked,” she said to him. Lola was inspecting the shirt carefully. Jim wondered when was the last time she’d been allowed clothes.
31
Like most buildings in Las Vegas, the church looked practically new and somewhat plain. There was a large stucco archway out front with little in the way of design. Two women (one in nuns’ clothing) and a young man in a collar were waiting under it.
“Are you sure about this?” Erica was between the girls in the back with an arm holding each one close. He didn’t think blonde had lifted her head the entire trip. “Her pulse is going strong and her breathing seems okay, but she’s still out. This one may need a doctor, not a priest.”
