InTooDeep (15 page)

Carley’s words had galvanized the women
into action. She had more sharp objects being shoved at her than she needed.
With a grim smile, she looked at the piece of metal Becca offered.

“You’re going to need something to stand
on.”

“Me?” Becca’s voice squeaked.

“Well I’m not exactly in any position to
pick the locks myself, am I? All you need to do is get the first cuff open. I
can take care of the rest.”

The blonde held her hands against her
chest. “I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can. I can talk you through it.
Picking locks is a piece of cake. It’s the first thing you learn as a thief.”
She offered the encouragement with a slight smile. “You won’t be the first
person I’ve trained. Now please get something to stand on. I don’t know how
much time we have.”

Two women scooted a plastic crate forward
before ducking back into the darkness. Becca pushed the crate with her foot
until it bumped the stone next to Carley’s leg.

Carley held her breath as the woman reached
out to capture her right arm. She’d broken into more houses and buildings than
she could count but she wasn’t sure she could really teach this woman the art
of picking a lock, not with the way her hands shook like she was standing in a
cold wind.

“Okay, there should be a small hole. It
might look like a keyhole. I need you to put the end of the strip in that
hole.”

As she wiggled the thin strip of metal in
the lock, Becca began to chatter. “So how are we supposed to get out of here
once you’re free?”

“I need you to focus on this first. Push
the metal in gently until you hear a click.”

Becca grunted but did as instructed. Sighs
of relief followed the audible click. “Now what?”

“Turn the strip to the right just a
little.”

“We could all get killed,” Becca whispered.

“True, but if we stay here we’re definitely
dead,” Carley reminded her. “Did you turn it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Now give it a bit more
pressure.”

Becca leaned in closer. “I ain’t sure you
want to be confronting Agnes.”

That made Carley tip her head up to see
Becca’s face. What was it about the woman that made these women cower in fear?
From what she’d seen Agnes appeared to be an ordinary woman. Yeah, a little
sneaky, but not one that couldn’t be taken down. And if Carley got her way, in
a most painful manner.

She couldn’t help but wonder though, why
the women hadn’t banded together, tried to formulate their own plan of attack.
Even in their present state they could have overpowered the one woman…maybe,
anyway.

“If you ain’t scared, you ought to be,”
came another voice from over Becca’s shoulder.

“Fear can be a powerful motivator, and I
can handle Agnes.”

Becca snorted. “You’re standing here
chained up like a junkyard dog and you’re saying you can handle her?”

Well put like that it wouldn’t instill
confidence. Carley lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “She caught me off-guard. It
won’t happen again.”

With a loud clink, the first cuff opened
after the last word left her mouth. “Great job!” Feeling a bit more in control,
she took the strip from Becca and went to work on freeing her left arm.

“Okay, ladies, it’s time to get ready. I
need all of you to line up beside the stairs and stay quiet.” The second cuff
popped open and Carley lowered her arms with another grateful sigh. Her
shoulders ached and her wrists were chafed. But at least she was partially
free.

“Becca, put the crate beneath my feet.” As
soon as she felt the plastic touch her skin, Carley leaned down and released
the chains holding her ankles in place.

There were several mini-cheers when she
finally jumped off the crate. Becca shushed the women with frantic waves of her
hands. “We don’t know where Agnes is!”

“That’s okay.” Carley crossed the cold
stone floor. “They’re going to need to make noise and a lot of it.” She stooped
and peeked beneath the stairs. There wasn’t a lot of room but she could wiggle
in.

“Noise?” Becca tapped her on the shoulder.
“What are you talking about? We don’t want to bring anyone down here.”

Carley dusted her hands together as she
straightened. “Actually, we do. We need the guard.”

The women gathered around, each beginning
to pepper her with questions.

“We’ve never seen a guard. What makes you
think there is one?”

“How can you be sure it won’t be Agnes?”

“What if she has a gun?”

She held up one hand to quiet them. “There
is a guard because we already know Agnes doesn’t work alone. She killed
Franklin, which means she had someone to take his place. But try not to panic.
I can handle this.” Carley pinned her gaze on the woman who’d been concerned
about the gun. “Even if he’s armed.”

Becca chewed her lower lip. “And if there’s
more than one?”

Carley figured that would be one of the
questions. “I can handle more than one too.”

The blonde assessed her. “You don’t look
like you can.”

She didn’t take offense. “And Agnes doesn’t
look like a woman who sells women, either.”

“You a cop?”

Carley rested one hand on the woman’s
shoulder. “No, I’m way better than a cop.”

“What’s better than a cop?”

“Someone who doesn’t have to play by the
rules.”

An FBI agent. A fucking FBI agent. Which
meant her husband was now involved. So calling him would do no good. He would
throw his hands up in the air and manage to eloquently extricate himself from
their marriage and her life, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was
clueless about her activities.

Rena paced, and the longer she paced the
madder she got. How in the hell had the FBI found out about her? Had her
husband caught on first and turned her in? And how close were they to knowing
where she was?

Well it didn’t matter. Even though the
island house she’d secured under a false name would keep her safe for a while,
she had to get out of town. Fast. There was no need to worry about the laptop
Franklin had taken. Now it came down to survival in any way possible.

She could get away, and she had more than
enough money secured to provide her with a very comfortable lifestyle on some
faraway island. As her mind concocted a scheme, her hands twisted the silencer onto
the tip of the semi-automatic.

Behind her the grandfather clock ticked a
steady rhythm, reminding her time was slipping away. Now that her husband knew
everything, he’d be eager to help put her away, she was sure. Sniveling
bastard. He wouldn’t stand up for her, not when it came to a choice between
saving her or his own skin. No, she was truly on her own, and once she’d erased
all living evidence, she’d be better off alone.

Chapter Fourteen

Was she alive? The question beat at him
like a whip against raw flesh. It ate through his stomach like a bleeding
ulcer. Still, there was nothing he could do. So naturally, Hunt took his fury
out on whoever had the misfortune to cross his path which, at present, was only
Dave.

“Ease up, man.” Dave’s lips stretched to
one side in an exaggerated whisper. “People are starting to stare.”

Hunt massaged the back of his neck. It
didn’t help. Tension still knotted his muscles so tightly he could bounce a
quarter off them. “Carley’s in this situation because of me.”

“Though I don’t know her, I doubt she’d
agree. Doesn’t seem like the type from the little information I’ve gleaned from
you. Emphasis on little.”

“Let’s take a walk.” Hunt jerked his head
toward the door and Dave fell into step beside him without question.

Pushing one hand against the glass door,
Hunt walked out into the sunlight, leaving the murmur of voices, clicking of
computer keys and ringing of phones behind. Once he was a safe distance away
from the sheriff’s department, he turned to face his former partner.

“I don’t know if Rena is in this alone now
that Franklin’s dead…or if she’s working with someone higher up the food
chain.” He’d even considered that the techs and agents who were inside the
station right now could actually be working for Rena Baulding.

His gut clenched in perfect imitation of
his neck. These were men he’d trusted with his life, worked with on a daily
basis. Was it possible Rena or even her husband had managed to wave enough
money in front of their faces to make them forget about duty?

Dave grimaced then rubbed one finger over
his top lip. “You seriously think your director might be involved?”

“I don’t want to but my gut’s telling me
not to trust him. And if he is involved, there’s no telling how far up the
ladder this goes. Even if he didn’t know in advance, he knows now, which means
he has a decision to make. I’m not so sure he’ll choose his badge over his
wife.”

“Then I guess it’s best we keep as much
information to ourselves as possible to mitigate any possible damages.”

Hunt’s cell phone beeped and he flipped it
open, scanned the text message and dropped the phone back into his pocket. “My
team wants to know where I am.”

Dave frowned. “You have a team?”

“We don’t usually work alone.”

“Yeah, I always heard agents travel in
packs, a lot like wolves.”

Hunt smiled grimly. “Something like that.”

Fingers snapping, Dave cleared his throat.
“So you don’t trust your team either?”

The question drew Hunt’s gaze. “We’ve been
together for five years.” He considered Dave’s question further. What was his
hesitation with trusting his team? They knew about this case as they had each
case before this one. More than once he’d trusted his life to each of them. And
they’d never let him down. But could he be certain their hands were squeaky
clean?

“Well?”

Hunt turned his attention toward the
expertly trimmed hedges separating the front of the station from the parking
lot. “I trust them,” he finally responded.

“Sounds so convincing.” Dave slapped him on
the shoulder. “Just answer one question for me. Is Carley worth dying for?
Because that’s very well what might happen if you go into this thing guns
a-blazing.”

“Is that your way of telling me to keep a
level head?”

“Shit, you left level behind hours ago.”

Hunt would have to agree. It was a little
too late for rationality. The second he’d heard Rena’s syrupy voice telling him
she had Carley, his world had narrowed. As much as he wanted to put the deputy
director’s wife away for a very long time, finding Carley, making sure she was
safe, consumed him.

He’d lost count of the number of times in
just the past few minutes he’d kicked himself for not sending her away when
he’d discovered who she was and why she was there. But should-haves wouldn’t
help Carley now. He wasn’t sure anything could.

No, he wouldn’t think about the possibility
that he was already too late. He couldn’t. His focus would slip, and an agent
with no focus was an easy target. Besides, there’d been something in Rena’s
voice, something that told him Carley was alive…and the bait Rena Baulding
needed to catch him.

That was a wish he was more than willing to
grant. Hunt retrieved his phone, sent a text message in reply to his team’s
query. “Let’s go take a look around JT Everly’s house in case the forensic
techs missed something. There’s nothing else we can do here until we get a bead
on Baulding’s wife. I’ve sent a couple of guys back to the warehouse for
another look.”

“I guess it’s good to have a team.”

Hunt didn’t have the same feeling…at least
not now. To the other agents this was just another case, another animal to take
off the street. Though they always tried to keep all the victims alive, they
didn’t know what this one victim meant to him.

He hadn’t known until Rena said her name,
but now that he did he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to her. No
matter what it took, he’d get her out of there alive.

Carley hid beneath the stairs, her shallow
breaths barely making a sound. All she could do was wait and hope the women
followed her instructions to the letter. The plan could collapse if even one woman
fell apart.

She heard footsteps on the stairs. The plan
was underway. “Come on, ladies. Just like I told you,” she whispered.

A hand slapped the metal door. “Hey! We
need help in here! Open up!” In unison, the women began to shout, demanding
attention.

Carley spared a glance at Becca, who’d
taken her place at the wall. Now chained against the stone, the blonde kept her
head low in an attempt to blend into the darkness. The clink of metal in the
lock dragged Carley’s attention back toward the stairs.

“What the hell is going on in here?” The
voice was gruff and husky—a man who’d smoked one too many cigarettes.

Just like Carley had hoped, he wasn’t
prepared to see all of the women gathered together at the top of the stairs.
Carley peered up in time to see two women, surprisingly strong in spite of
their gaunt frames, take hold of his arms and yank him down the stairs.

The guard tumbled to the bottom, cursing
all the way. Carley sprang out from her hiding place, quickly taking the upper
hand. The man was down but definitely not out. He tried to push himself upward
but she kicked him in the gut and aimed another kick at his groin before
dropping to her knees beside him.

As the man groaned in agony, she removed
the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans and the keychain attached to his
belt then pried the two-way radio from his hand. She pressed one knee against
his throat to silence his groans and, with one quick butt of the gun against
his head, quieted him altogether. His jaw went slack and his head fell to one
side.

The women descended the stairs as one,
rushing to Carley’s side to follow her next set of orders.

She tossed the keys to a thin brunette
behind her. “Get Becca down. The rest of you help me get this lug up. We’ve got
to make sure he won’t come after us.”

“So we’re…we’re going?” The brunette
shifted from one foot to the other. “I ain’t been outside these walls in, well,
I don’t know how long.”

While Carley took pity on the woman’s
nervousness, she knew they had little time to spare. “Well you’re going now. So
get Becca down from there.” She sharpened her voice to push the woman into
action.

Her throat grew tight as butterflies
somersaulted in her stomach. She’d only get one chance to get these women out
alive, and that was a chance she wasn’t even sure about. But trying was better
than giving up.

Managing to roll the guard over, Carley
unbuttoned his plaid shirt and tugged it from his shoulders. The guy was all
muscle, which made the shirt an extra large size, but it would do to cover her
for now. She’d have to find something for the other women to wear on the way
out.

The rest of the women jumped in to help
drag the guard toward the dangling chains and with much grunting and curses
they finally managed to secure the unconscious man with the cuffs.

Stepping back, Carley released the breath
she’d been holding and wrapped the guard’s belt around her waist. “Here.” She
tossed the t-shirt she’d peeled off the guy to Becca. “Put that on.” The woman
gave her a grateful smile before turning away to get dressed as though seeking
some semblance of modesty.

Carley checked the gun’s clip. Full. Just
as she’d expected. She held the weapon low in her hand and motioned toward the
stairs. The steel against her palm reassured her, made her feel more in control
than she had fifteen minutes ago. “Okay, ladies, follow me and stay quiet. We
don’t know where Agnes is or who’s with her. The best we can hope for is a
quick exit out the first window we come to.”

She didn’t tell them she had no intentions
of going with them. Right now they needed a leader, and that was what she’d be
to them. But in the end her need to confront her captor on even footing would
be the controlling factor.

“Becca, do you still remember the number I
gave you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your boyfriend’s cell
phone.”

“Detective Brandon, but his real name is
Agent Chandler,” Carley corrected, climbing up the stairs with quick, stealthy
steps. “I didn’t want Agnes to know he was with the FBI. She had enough
information as it was. Now do you remember what to do once you get out of
here?”

“I’m to find the first phone I can, call
him and tell him to trace the call.”

The woman’s words reassured her somewhat.
She reached the top of the stairs, running on pure adrenaline. The door was
still open and Carley caught a glimpse of tile. A kitchen or laundry room. She
prayed it was the kitchen. There’d be a better chance for a window.

Leading the way, she crept out onto the
tile, her bare feet making no noise. She’d told the other women to form a solid
line and stay behind her no matter what. And so far they’d obeyed to the
letter. They were so quiet if she didn’t know they were behind her she would
have thought she was alone.

The tile led into a small laundry room with
a basket of clothes sitting atop the dryer. But there was no window in sight.
Carley opened her mouth to curse and then saw the back door. Heart pumping, she
turned the lock on the door handle, took a deep breath and gently opened the
door. Not a kitchen, but the garage.

Relief flowed through her but only for a brief
moment. There’d be plenty of time to celebrate later. For now she had another
problem. The garage doors were down and there was only one small window above a
workbench.

“Grab some of those clothes, whatever you
can find to wear,” she whispered. “Then follow me.”

Carley slowly descended the concrete steps,
hearing the slap of bare feet as the women trailed her. Her gaze scanned the
dark interior. Two cars. She could hotwire them easily enough but the door
could be electrified or any number of other possibilities. She wouldn’t risk
these women’s lives, not when they were this close to freedom.

She eyed the window. It was narrow but
possible for women as thin as these. She leaned in to inspect the sill,
checking for any attached wires. Nothing. That didn’t mean they weren’t alarmed
though, but considering the only other option was to take their chances with
Agnes, Carley figured it was best to chance it.

“Becca, can you make it?”

The blonde didn’t hesitate. “For a chance
to get out of this hellhole, I’d rip the skin from my body if I had to.” She
climbed up onto the bench and tugged open the window. “Good thing they don’t
feed us,” she muttered, shifting so that the top of her head stuck out the
window.

Holding her breath, Carley waited. “What do
you see?”

“A long drop,” came Becca’s excited
whisper, “and then a road. Looks like we’re at the back of the house.”

Carley caught hold of the woman’s ankle.
“Becca, listen to me. When you hit the ground, drop to your stomach and stay
low. Keep as close to the side of the house as you can. You’ll need to slide
along on your stomach beneath any windows.”

“Right. I’ll plaster myself to the ground
until I reach the road. Then I’ll run like hell.”

“You don’t know who is friend or foe in
this neighborhood so try to find a phone in a public place. You can call
collect. Just say you’re calling collect for Carley. He’ll take the call.”

Becca began to wiggle farther out the
window before she paused. “What about the rest of them?”

“I’ll get them out. I promise.”

Becca resumed wiggling and every woman in
the garage held their breath until they heard the thump of her drop. Carley
scrambled up on top of the bench in time to see Becca’s bony figure roll to her
side, her gaunt frame pressed against the wall of the brick house.

All Carley could do now was keep her
fingers crossed that she made it. With a smile she didn’t feel, she faced the
other women. “Now let’s get the rest of you out of here.”

Hunt had never received a collect call on
his cell phone before but the operator’s nasally voice telling him the call was
for Carley had him fumbling to press the right key to accept the call.

“Carley?”

Dave sat up straighter beside him, his gaze
focused on Hunt’s profile.

“No. My name is Becca. Carley asked me to
call once I got out. She wants you to trace the call. You can find her that
way. We were in a house. Big. Two story, maybe three. There are other women in
there…in the garage. I don’t know if they can all fit through the window like I
did. You have to get them out.”

She said the words so fast they all blended
together. Hunt managed to decipher enough to tell him Carley was alive. The
crushing weight lifted off his shoulders. He covered the mouthpiece and
directed his gaze at Dave. “Call my team and tell them to put a trace on this call.”