Minutes to Kill (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

“
Brody!” Hannah lifted the gun. Brody and Sam went down and rolled under the train. She couldn’t shoot. She might hit Brody.

She ran ahead a few steps, dropped, and rolled under the next freight car. Turning, she ran back. The bodies had stilled. The figure on top flipped to his side. One arm flopped out into a patch of tall weeds.

Was that Brody or Sam? The grass was too high to see his face. Hannah pointed the gun forward. “Brody?”

“I’m here.” Wheezing, he sat up. One hand held his rib cage. “I think he’s dead.”

Hannah walked closer. She peered over the vegetation. Sam’s eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. A knife protruded from his belly.

“Hey, look!” Brody pointed behind her. Red and blue lights swirled in the distance.

Hannah helped him to his feet. Now that the threat was gone, he sagged.

“You need a hospital.”

“Need to find Chet,” he said.

They limped toward the lights.

Mac rode shotgun in Officer Dane’s patrol car. They were flying on the rural straightaway that led to the abandoned rail yard. Lights flickered around them, but the sirens were off. They didn’t want to spook the suspects.

She stared straight ahead. “You’re really a wildlife biologist?”

“Yes.”

“What do you study?”

“Otters.”

Her brow lifted. “Otters?”

“Yeah. Otters.”

“Interesting.” Her tone sounded more puzzled than curious. “How do you know the rail yard so well?”

“I spent considerable time out there as a teenager.”

The quick glance she cast in his direction was surprised. “Sex, drugs, or underage drinking?”

“Yes,” he said.

The cars pulled through the sagging-open gate. Cops spilled out. With Mac’s input, a quick and dirty search plan had already been agreed upon in the conference room of the police station.

“You stay here.” Dane pointed at him.

“But I know this place.”

“Do I need to handcuff you and put you in the back?”

“No.” Mac hung back, leaning on the car and crossing his arms. His memories of handcuffs and the backseats of patrol cars were not pleasant. Nor were the bad decisions that had put him there.

Dane hesitated, glancing back at him. “We’ll find her.”

Mac nodded. “You’d better.”

“Don’t you go running off into the dark the minute my back is turned,” she warned. “You’ll get shot.”

Hm
. Mac wondered how the cop knew he was going to do just that.

“There they are!” someone shouted.

Two figures limped toward them. Mac ran past the cops. His sister was banged up but on her feet and walking. Relief nearly took him to his knees. He folded her into his chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“I’m all right, Mac,” Hannah said.

He took his first full breath in hours. What if she hadn’t been? He would have been too late yet again. He would have put work ahead of his family for the hundredth time. He hadn’t been around to help Lee. Hell, he hadn’t even known Lee was in trouble, which was totally inexcusable. Lee had saved Mac, and in return, Mac had abandoned him.

He tightened his grip on his sister.

Their childhood had been messed up, but what Mac did with his adult life was his responsibility.

Brody zipped up the winter jacket one of the patrol cops loaned him. Vehicles crowded the yard. Flashlight beams crisscrossed the ground. Every available body had been called in to search for Chet.

Hannah strode next to him. Mac was teamed up with Stella. His knowledge of the yard’s layout had proven useful. But two hours into the search of the rail yard, Chet hadn’t been found.

“Over here,” someone yelled. Brody picked up the pace. A black Dodge Charger was parked behind a rusted engine. A cop shone his light inside the vehicle. “Nothing.”

He opened the vehicle door and popped the trunk. Brody surged forward and peered inside. A hand protruded from under a tarp.
No!

With a silent prayer, he reached down and moved the tarp.
Please let him be alive.
But it wasn’t Chet. The face was slender, young, and badly beaten. Shock paralyzed Brody for a second. “It’s a woman.”

Brody leaned in and pressed two fingers to her throat. A weak pulse tapped against his fingertips. “She’s alive.”

He tugged off his jacket and draped it over her. Her eyes opened, white-rimmed with fear.

“It’s all right. You’re safe. We’re the police.”

A tear ran from her eye.

An ambulance was already on-site, waiting. EMTs rushed in. Brody backed off and returned to the search. Hannah took his hand. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I’m all right.”

“You don’t look all right. You look terrible.” She took his hand. His devotion to his friend only deepened her feelings for him. Brody was the kind of man she’d been waiting for her whole life. However long he wanted to keep searching, she’d be here with him. “But let’s keep looking.”

“Found him!” A shout floated over the yard.

Brody’s breath fogged in front of him as he turned toward the voice.

“He’s alive!”

They jogged toward the commotion in front of a freight car. A patrol cop handed Brody up. Chet was on his back, three navy-blue SFPD jackets draped across his body.

“Chet?” Brody knelt.

“He’s breathing, Brody,” a cop said over his shoulder.

Barely.

Within minutes, the EMTs were in the car, starting an IV, draping Chet with blankets. One of Chet’s eyes opened. His fingers made a small motion, gesturing Brody closer.

He leaned over, putting his ear close to his friend’s mouth.

“There was an e-mail,” Chet rasped. “About Teresa. Follow up. Please. I don’t care what she wants. Promise. If I die, you’ll find her.”

“Done.” Brody squeezed his arm and backed away, giving the rescue crew room to work. The EMTs’ movements were urgent. Had they found him in time?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Hannah’s feet dangled off the edge of the gurney as the neurologist shone a light in her eyes. Concerned about the cumulative effect of concussions, the doctor had run her through the same balance and coordination tests as Royce’s neurologist. “Other than minor bruises and abrasions, you seem fine to me.”

“Really?” she asked.

The doctor scribbled on his chart. “You passed all the tests.”

She’d be able to go back to work. Why didn’t that idea fill her with the pleasure she’d expected?

A nurse came in with paperwork. Hannah signed the forms and collected her things.

Brody entered the cubicle. He’d already been poked, prodded, and x-rayed. Despite two cracked ribs and a concussion, he refused admittance. “Well?”

“I’m fine.” She hopped down off the table and took his arm. “But you look like you’re going to fall down.”

“I’m OK,” he said, but he allowed her to lead him to the hallway.

“How’s Chet?” She moved toward the waiting room.

“Dehydration did a number on his kidneys, and his liver tests don’t look good. No shock there. But he’s going to recover, at least physically.” Brody tugged her down a different corridor. “He’s going to start up his search for Teresa again. He found an old e-mail from one of his contacts in a national missing persons organization. Someone who looks like Teresa was spotted in Vegas. Apparently, Vegas is a national trafficking hub. I’m going to put him in touch with Detective Douglas.”

“That’s something.” She tried to sound hopeful.

“For Chet, anything is better than sitting in his house with nothing to do. On a more positive note, Lance is going to make it. They moved him out of intensive care.”

Hannah exhaled. She squeezed Brody’s hand. “I’m so glad. What about the woman?”

She would never get the sight of that poor girl in the trunk out of her head.

Brody studied their joined hands. “Her name is Marcia Falcon. She’s a pharmaceutical rep from Cleveland. She checked into a hotel on the interstate. We think they abducted her from the parking lot of the sports bar next door. The bar gave us the surveillance footage. Marcia was eating there at the same time as the Arnette brothers.”

“Oh, no.” That poor woman. “Is she going to make it?” Hannah didn’t ask if Marcia would be all right. Raped and beaten and kept in the trunk of a car, she would never be
all right
again.

“Yes, physically she should recover. The doctors are stunned that she survived.”

“It’s amazing what the human body is capable of bearing.” Hannah had
seen all that her father had endured, and his heart refused to give out.

“I want to go home.” Brody steered her toward a rear exit. “I don’t want to run into any reporters. I’m not giving anyone a statement or filling out a single form.”

“Surely, no one would expect . . .”

He raised a brow. “You’d be surprised.”

Outside, a patrol car waited for them. They slid into the back. Brody rested his head against the seat for the ride home. “Do you need to get the dog?”

Hannah shook her head. “Mac picked her up and took her home with him.”

“Good,” Brody said. “You’re still keeping all this from Grant?”

“Yes. Mac and I agreed that none of this would help his post-traumatic stress. We’ll tell him in person.”

“He’s going to be furious when he gets home.”

“Yes, he will.”

She was still surprised by Mac’s response at the rail yard. She’d always thought of Mac as the least emotional of all of them. He’d rather be out in the wilderness than in a room full of people. Maybe she’d been wrong. Grant was reaching out to her for contact, and he said he was doing the same with Mac. Grant shouldn’t have to do all the work. Hannah would talk to Mac tomorrow.

The car dropped them at Brody’s house. Inside, Danno greeted them with ankle rubs and meows. They went upstairs and shared a hot shower. They were both mottled with bruises and scrapes.

“We are a sad sight.” Hannah gingerly blotted a seat belt abrasion across her chest.

“Indeed.” Brody tugged her into bed.

She helped him wrap an Ace bandage around his ribs. He settled back on the pillows with a groan of pleasure. He pulled her down beside him.

When his phone buzzed, he lifted it off the nightstand and opened one eye. “It’s Douglas.”

Hannah stiffened.

Brody sighed and answered the phone. Five minutes later, he ended his call. “The address on Mick’s license was bogus, but the Vegas cops found some people in that neighborhood who knew where he really lived. They raided the place today and found five underage girls being kept there by another woman. None appear to be Jewel, though the police are having a hard time identifying any of them. None of the girls will say anything. Three are likely illegals.” He paused, and Hannah could tell he was holding something back.

She sat up. “What?”

“They found evidence that someone was being held prisoner in a shed out back. One of the other girls said that was Jewel. Douglas thinks this girl known as Lola is the one who sent you those e-mails. Mick had your purse in the house. Your business card was on the table. Lola won’t talk to them, but she asked for you.”

“I want to go to Las Vegas,” Hannah said. Mac could keep the dog for a couple of days.

“OK.”

She lay back down.

“I’ll go with you.” Brody wrapped his arm around her waist and spooned against her back. “We’ll arrange flights in the morning.”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

“Tomorrow morning I’ll have a tome of a report to type. But I won’t be on active duty until I get medical clearance. According to the ER doc, I’m going to have a few weeks off at minimum.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “And I am not ready to let you out of my sight.”

The thought of leaving Brody behind hurt more than any of her injuries. She’d almost lost him tonight. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

She rolled over to face him. Putting a hand on his chest, she said, “I don’t want this to end between us. I know we both said we didn’t love the idea of a long-distance relationship, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

He kissed her. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Late the next afternoon, Hannah sat in a conference room down the hall from Detective Douglas’s office in Las Vegas.

Douglas scanned his report. “We found an arrest record for a weapons charge against Mick Arnette in Ohio. Some of his fingerprints weren’t clear, so they hadn’t been entered into the national database. After checking the missing persons reports for Ohio, we found a girl we believe is Jewel. Her name is Jenna Young, native of Toledo. Jenna ran away from home about a year ago. Her mother didn’t report her missing for several weeks.” He put a paper on the table in front of them. A dark-haired teenager smiled sadly at the camera.

Hannah sucked in a quick breath. “That’s her.”

But she looked different. Her eyes were mournful rather than panicked, and her face was fuller in the picture, as if she had lost weight since.

“Why wasn’t she reported missing right away?” Hannah asked.

“Her mother said Jenna had run away before. She thought her daughter would come back on her own.” Douglas frowned. “But the Toledo police found out that the mother’s boyfriend was a registered sex offender. He’d been convicted of molesting a twelve-year-old girl seven years before. Seems he hooked up with Jenna’s mother barely six months after his release from prison.”

“So you assume he molested Jenna.” The coffee in Hannah’s stomach soured. Brody put an arm across the back of her chair and gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze. She couldn’t have gotten through this day without him. His solid and quiet support made the most onerous subjects bearable.

“Probably a fair assumption,” Douglas said.

“Any ideas on how to find her?” Brody asked.

“We found a computer at the house. Our technicians think the e-mails you were sent originated from that unit. This girl, Lola, claims to have sent them. We recovered a computer. Most of the files have been wiped, but our cyber techs hope to recover deleted files from the hard drive. But we do have the records for Mick’s burner phone, and the cyber team followed a data usage trail. We strongly suspect Mick’s operation is part of a larger organization.”

“So what do you want from Lola?” Hannah asked.

“I’d like her to tell us what she knows. We want to bring down as much of this organization as possible. But she doesn’t trust us. Where she comes from, law enforcement is often as corrupt as or in bed with the criminals. With the Mexican cartels, either you do as you’re told or they kill you and your entire family.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Hannah offered.

“We know she’s afraid of being deported, but if she cooperates with us, we’ll help her. Several agencies have been to visit her. She won’t talk to them either.” Douglas stood. “I’ll take you over to the hospital now.”

They followed the detective to the hospital in their rental car. Twenty minutes later, Douglas pushed the number on the elevator. Lola was recovering in a room on the fourth floor. “How long will they keep her in the hospital?”

Douglas shook his head. “I don’t know. She needs to be detained. It’ll take some time to find a safe place to house her and the other girls.”

“They’re all witnesses.” And in danger. Hannah thought of Sam Arnette and the witness who disappeared before his trial. “I’m sure illegal trafficking victims who agree to testify have gone missing in the past.”

“Yes.” Douglas stopped at the end of the hall and showed his ID to a cop standing guard.

“She doesn’t speak much English, ma’am,” he said. “But I can translate.”

“There’s no need.” Hannah smiled.

“I’ll be right over there.” Brody pointed to a U-shaped waiting area. A flat-screen TV hung high on the wall. “Too many people in the room might intimidate her.”

“Thanks.” She kissed him. Thoughtful man.

She wasn’t looking forward to leaving Brody and going to London next week, but she was fit for work. Staying out any longer felt dishonest. She’d called Royce that morning. He hadn’t been available, but his secretary said he’d be in the New York office for a few days. Hannah was going to see him as soon as she returned from Las Vegas.

But she’d miss Brody, with his quiet strength and old-fashioned manners. And the kisses . . . Yeah. She’d miss those, too. And maybe even New York. Despite the terrible events of the past week, being in Scarlet Falls felt like home.

She followed Douglas into the room. Lola was sitting up in a bed. Her eyes opened wide when Hannah walked in and greeted her in Spanish. But she wouldn’t respond to any of Hannah’s questions. The girl’s eyes kept shifting to the detective with suspicion.

Hannah turned to the cop. “Would it be possible to give me a few minutes with her alone?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” he said. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

As soon as the cop left, Hannah pulled a chair to the bedside. “Now it’s just you and me,” she said in Spanish. “Why did you ask to talk to me?”

“Because you helped Jewel,” Lola said in Spanish. “And because I did something bad. I told on her. If it wasn’t for me, she might have gotten away.” She studied her hands twisting in the sheets. “I was a coward.”

Hannah’s heart ached. “I’m sure you were scared.” What had the Arnette brothers done to this poor girl?

Over the next thirty minutes Lola slowly opened up with her harrowing story and enough details to possibly find more victims. Hannah had also determined that the e-mails hadn’t been purposefully cryptic. Lola’s English was too limited to express what she’d wanted to say.

Hannah asked her about that night.

“We worked that place often,” she said in Spanish. “Men coming out of the club were always looking for sex. That night was a private party. Special arrangements had been made.”

Suddenly, Hannah knew. The girls had been hired for Herb’s big bash. Initial shock was replaced with fury. How could Herb do this? She liked him. How could she not have seen what he was hiding under his regular-joe charm? Wait. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Surely, other private parties had occurred that night. Carnival was huge. But something nagged at Hannah, an image of Herb squeezing his waitress’s butt. The girl had been at least thirty years his junior, and there was no question that he treated his female employees like sexual objects. How young was his taste?

She smiled at Lola and told her to hang tight. Out in the hallway, she found Douglas. He rose. “Any luck?”

“Yes. Lola told me about a place she was kept, along with dozens of other girls. A warehouse. It sounds like a processing center of some sort. She might be able to give you enough details to find it.”

And maybe Jewel.