Altercation (16 page)

“Yeah.” Neal nodded. “What’s going on? Where’s Sara? What are you doing out here?”

Megan licked her lips and took a deep breath. She knew this wouldn’t go over well. “The girls are gone again.”

“What?” Ricky pushed up on his elbows. “Gone? What do you mean?”

“On the way to the rendezvous, the counselor took them to a McDonald’s. They never showed up at the rendezvous.”

“Never showed up.” Ricky whispered the words and dropped his head in his hands. “Was it Crystal?”

Megan paused. “I don’t remember a name.”

Neal pressed his lips together. “That’s why you were searching out the McDonald’s in town. Find anything?”

Megan nodded, but Seth interrupted.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t matter. Too many people will ruin things.”

Ricky lifted his head, his features tight. “Don’t worry; we won’t let you get in our way. I’m sure we can handle it.”

Seth snorted. “Uh-huh. A couple of kids that ran from a group home. You think that makes you all that or something?”

Ricky gave a short laugh. “Did your mom teach you to be judgmental, or does it come naturally?”

“What’s your problem, kid?” Seth glared at Ricky.

“What’s
your
problem?” Neal entered the conversation. “You have a missing sister. So do we. That gives us as much right to be searching as you.”

“Yeah.” Seth rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re only interested in your sister. The other girls catch your eye, too?”

Ricky shot to his feet, his fists clenched.

Megan jumped in front of Seth, holding her arms out. “Okay. That’s enough. This is so stupid.”

Ricky took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. “If you weren’t Jaci’s brother . . . ”

Megan glared at Seth, willing him to calm down. “Stop being such a jerk.”

His gaze met hers, and he relented a little. He turned back to the twins and leaned against the dresser. “How well do you know Jaci?”

“Pretty well,” Neal said, his tone cautious. “We traveled with her for several weeks. How do you not know someone after that?”

Seth crossed his arms over his chest, studying both of them. “How well?”

“We didn’t kiss her, if that’s what you mean,” Neal said with a dry chuckle.

Megan noticed Ricky’s ears turn pink. As if feeling her gaze on him, Ricky lifted his face and met her eyes. “Why are you here, Megan?”

She glanced at Seth. He watched her from the dresser, arms across his chest, dark eyes brooding. Yet something about the curve of his mouth gave her the impression that at any moment he might cry. “We couldn’t just sit at home and do nothing. Seth wanted to look for Jaci. I came too.”

Neal cracked his fingers. “Well. Have they talked to Crystal—the counselor?”

“No. She hasn’t been found. The last McDonald’s we went to told us which way the car went. So, we haven’t figured out anything new. We’re just following the same trail the FBI has.”

“Where does the trail end?”

“Soon. The car was dumped under a bypass.”

Ricky’s shoulders sagged. “We’re not going to be able to find them.”

“See, that’s what I mean.” Seth spoke up again. “You don’t know where to look. You’ve just been following us. Why don’t you guys go on home—in fact, take Megan home too. I can do this myself.”

Megan looked at Seth incredulously. “Excuse me?”

He blinked, the skin around his right eye shiny and swollen from his fist-fight with Neal. “You never wanted to come anyway.”

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “And so, um, that gives you the right to send me away?”

He shrugged, lowering his eyes. “You’ve helped me all you can.”

She couldn’t even think of what to say. So she just stared at him.

Neal cleared his throat. “Whose car is it?”

She turned to face him, blinking back the angry tears that pricked her eyes. “Seth’s girlfriend’s.”

Ricky arched an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Does she know he’s with you?”

Definitely not. Megan shook her head.

“Then let’s call her and tell her.”

Seth narrowed his eyes at Ricky. “That’s blackmail, even if you knew how to reach her.”

Ricky yawned and stretched. “Finding phone numbers is easy, Rivera. Or you can let the three of us do what we want and you get your own car.”

Seth grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it on the floor. “No problem. I’ll get my own car.” He lay down with his back to them, hugging the pillow.

T
here was no question that Ohio was more pleasant than Alaska. Still, Carl felt some frustration as he unpacked his bags. He was no closer to finding anything out about Gregorio Rivera than he had been a few weeks ago. Two more people from the photographs had been identified, and just as Carl suspected, both were involved in illegal activities. More importantly, one of them was dead while the other walked free.

He didn’t know for sure, but Carl was pretty sure Rivera had killed the dead man. Agent Purple had been at the same place, at the same time, as the other guy.

Carl threw his suit on top of the floral bedspread in the hotel suite. Why didn’t Rivera at least call someone and tell them what was going on? His daughter was missing! Again! Surely he knew about this.

Just in case he didn’t, Carl’s last email had been more detailed. He’d also outlined his suspicions that Rivera was hiding because his own illegal adventures were about to catch up to him. Carl hinted at working out a plea bargain if he would turn himself in. But even that hadn’t prompted a response.

He shook his head. He needed to focus on Ohio. First on the agenda was to call the FBI and let them know he was situated so they could bring him a car. After that, dinner. He put his hand on the hotel phone, about to pick it up, when it rang. Too startled at first to answer it, Carl got it on the second ring. “Yes?”

“Detective Hamilton?”

“Speaking.”

“Agent Banks. We have a lead on an empty warehouse downtown. The police are planning a raid in twenty minutes.”

Excitement coursed through Carl’s veins, driving out the jet-lag and hunger. He hadn’t even started investigating yet, and already a break. “What’s the address? I’ll be there for the aftermath.”

Banks rattled off the address, and then added, “I’m also supposed to inform you that Florence and her daughter were spotted on security cameras.”

Carl ripped the top page off the hotel notepad and started in on the next one. “Where?”

“At the Chicago O’Hare airport. Boarding a flight to Argentina.”

Some of his excitement sank. “Did she leave a forwarding address?”

“No such luck. I’ll brief you more at the raid.”

T
here had been no sound in the other room since nightfall. It was pitch black in the little closet. Jaci focused her eyes where she knew Amanda knelt in front of the door.

“Damn.” Amanda’s whisper filled the closet. “I broke the bobby pin.”

Jaci fought back the crazy urge to laugh. “You broke it? Do you have another pin?”

“Uh-huh.” Her jeans scraped the floor as she fished around in her pocket. “Good luck.”

Jaci felt blindly in the dark until she touched the cool smoothness of the bobby pin. They shifted positions, and Jaci prayed silently.
Help me get this door open. Our chance to get out is now.
She knelt on the hard concrete and felt the metal doorknob. Jaci pushed and prodded the pin, twisting it around, trying to slide it between the door and the wall. No luck. The pin bent under the hard lock, defying Jaci’s best efforts to use it like a wedge.

She sank down. “I can’t get it.”

“I know.”

A loud clanging echoed in the warehouse. “What’s that?”

Amanda used Jaci for leverage to get to her feet. “I have no idea.”

In the other room, the door hit the wall so hard that the closet rattled. The girls barely had time to back away before the closet door flung open, a flashlight shining in their faces.

“Move. Now.” The
Grandón
wrapped his fingers in a crushing grip around Jaci’s forearm and hauled her out.

She struggled to get her feet under her, whipping around as the Creep got a hold of Amanda. The
Grandón
didn’t wait. He switched his light off and dragged her through the warehouse, her shoes catching on broken glass and wires. Her arm throbbed where he held her.

She blinked as they stepped into the street. A lamplight flickered above them and cars drove down the road. He yanked her arm, forcing her to keep walking.

The familiar SUV sat in a parallel parking space in front of a bookstore. The
Grandón
shoved Jaci inside. Amanda stumbled in right after. The doors slammed and the car took off, turning right down a narrow alley and climbing a hill.

The Hand was at the wheel. Was he finally going to collect his money and get rid of them?

The SUV bumped over a curb and drove into a wooded park at the top of the hill, barely missing a bench and a barbecue grill. The Hand stopped the car and only then did Jaci realize they’d been driving without lights. No wonder he’d almost taken out the park bench.

The Creep lit up a cigarette. The black, acrid smoke drifted to the top of the SUV, making her cough. Dancing red and blue lights in her peripheral vision attracted her attention. She watched as several police cars surrounded a white-top, one-level building below their hill.

The warehouse.

Jaci slept off and on while they drove. The night grew dark as they traveled through small cities, interstates with no street lights. Periodically, The Hand would get on his cell phone and she always tried to be alert to listen to the conversations.

“Yes. Got it. Block two. Uh-huh.”

The last one was pretty much as helpful as the previous ones.

The Hand pulled the SUV up to a gated community. A glance at the digital clock in the car showed it to be just after three in the morning. Rolling down the window, he punched in a code and the gate rolled sideways. The Hand entered the community, driving the car to the end of the cul-de-sac.

A man waited in front of a three-story brick mansion. His graying hair blended into his white robe, his hooded eyes awake but sleepy. The garage was open, and The Hand pulled the SUV inside. Jaci felt the
Grandón
’s familiar fingers close in on her arm. She wanted to shake him off but didn’t.

The man was in the kitchen when The Hand led his little band inside. “This way,” he said, his voice soft with a British accent. His gray eyes roved over the girls before turning back to The Hand. “I have a room for the girls.”

“Not a bedroom.” Anger punctuated each word that The Hand spoke. “No windows.”

“No windows.” He nodded. “It’s my old office.”

The Hand stopped, blue eyes flashing. He lifted his lip in a growl. “Electronics? Computers? Phones?”

“No, no. It’s quite in disuse. Just a few books, I’m afraid.”

The Hand narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “All right.”

Jaci couldn’t recall ever seeing The Hand so angry. It left her uneasy.

They went down a spiral staircase into the basement. Passing through a large sitting room with a plasma TV mounted on the wall, they stopped in front of a wooden door. The man opened it, revealing an office the size of a small bedroom, complete with a closet.

Jaci’s eyes flitted over the room. Books, bookshelves, a wood file cabinet, and pieces of paper were the only objects inside. She started to follow Amanda into the room, but fingers dug into her shoulder, pulling her back.

Jaci glanced behind her to see The Hand gripping her. He inclined his head at the old man, who raised a graying eyebrow and closed the door, shutting Amanda inside. Jaci’s heart jumped into her ears. Cold terror shot through her chest, paralyzing her.

Amanda’s reaction was instantaneous. The man grimaced and held on tight to the doorknob as the girl screamed and pummeled her body into the door. “I’ll need some help here. The lock is on the inside.”

“We’ll have to get that fixed.” The Hand’s eyes darted around the basement. “Move that china cabinet in front of the door.”

The
Grandón
started toward the cabinet but the old man spoke up first. “The door opens inward.” He now had both hands on the doorknob and was using all his body to hold it closed. The door rattled in the frame.

The Hand dug his fingers deeper into Jaci’s shoulder. “Open the door and knock her out.”

The
Grandón
changed directions and took the doorknob from the old man. He pushed the door open. Jaci strained her ears, but all she heard was a thump.

The Hand snapped out more orders as the
Grandón
exited the room. “Get a screwdriver and switch that knob around. I want it done before I get back.” He used his grip on Jaci to guide her up the stairs.

She forced herself to breathe.
It’s okay. Whatever happens, you can get through this.
Her words did nothing to stop the way her hands trembled.

The Hand and the Creep led her down a hall with beige walls and soft blue carpet. Portraits of various sizes adorned the wall. What kind of man had pictures of himself and his grandchildren in the same hall where he consorted with kidnappers?

Someone like her father.

Her knees went weak at the thought. The Hand opened a door and pushed her inside. She sank down on the plush carpet, fighting tears.

“Close the blinds,” The Hand said to the Creep. He looked at Jaci. “Get up.”

She pushed herself to her feet, risking a glance around. She was in a study. More bookshelves, but also a desk, and a computer, and a cordless phone.

“Sit.” The Hand pointed at a black leather chair. She did as he said.

He shoved the chair up to the desk. Digging around in a drawer, he pulled out a pen and slapped it in front of her, along with a sheet of paper. “Write. Exactly what I tell you to.”

Jaci gripped the pen, her hand shaking.

“Daddy.” He waited a moment, and then shouted, “Write it!”

She scribbled the word across the top of the page.

“I am safe. For now.”

She wrote the next five words and felt the blood drain from her face. She was writing a letter to her father.

“Time is running out. If you want to see me again, please electronically transfer four million dollars into this bank account.” The Hand rattled off several numbers. “Here’s the routing number. It’s under the name of Andrea Bobleta. This name is fictitious. You won’t find the person anywhere so don’t bother.

“You have seventy-two hours. I know this is a lot of money, but I know you have it. If you want to free Amanda, please also deposit four million for her. At the end of seventy-two hours, depending on what you’ve done, we will either be released to the FBI or sold into slavery. If that happens, no one will ever see us again.”

The Creep interrupted. His Latin accent slurred with exhaustion. “Shouldn’t we offer proof? Of what we are going to do to her?”

The Hand looked at the man and then at Jaci. “Yes. Get a digital camera from Er—our host. We’ll send him a picture of her.”

The man slipped out of the room.

“Keep writing.”

Jaci flexed her fingers, her head throbbing.

“Please don’t let them hurt me, Daddy. I don’t want this for my life. Please save me.”

She couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she wrote the words. She hated The Hand, hated him for making her use these words against her father. Hated her father for putting her in this position where she could be pitted against him. And she hated how desperately she hoped he could come up with the money.

“Love, your baby girl, Jaci.” He waited while she wrote out the last line. “Now sign your name.”

The other man came back in and handed a camera to The Hand. He took it and looked back at Jaci. “Take your clothes off.”

The Creep’s black eyes lit up, all signs of sleepiness disappearing. A sinister smile curled around his lips.