“You’re not sure?”
“Well, it was in Mexico. I can’t remember if the university had an accounting program. But that’s the equivalent in America.”
“Ah.” Carl nodded. Yet something didn’t click right. Maybe it was her nervous manner. “What university was that?” He opened a drawer and pulled out a dried rose.
“The National University of Mexico?”
“Are you asking me?” Carl looked up, meeting her eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She put a hand to her forehead. “No—I just can’t remember. It’s been a long time. And I’m nervous. My husband is not home, my daughter is missing, and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I’m not quite myself.”
Carl tucked a hand-written note into his pocket.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow? My husband wants very much to talk with you.”
“I will. Thank you for your help.” He slipped down the stairs and out the door.
Chapter 7
Sara broke the silence in the small attic. “I know where we are.”
Jaci stared at the flecks of dust floating in the shafts of light sneaking in through the roof.
“You do?”
“I found a postcard in the basement with an address on it. Rue Landry, Victoriaville, QC.”
“QC?” Amanda echoed. “What state is that?”
“Canada,” Jaci said. “They drove us all the way to Canada.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve got news, too. I overheard a conversation today. The Hand is going to sell us.”
“Sell us!” Sara gasped.
Jaci put a finger to her lips and nodded.
“Trafficking.” Sara gripped the edge of her bedroll, knuckles white.
Should she tell them they knew her father? No, Jaci decided. She needed to figure out what that meant first.
They slept until the wiry, black-eyed man woke them up. He took them out on the balcony at the break of dawn.
Claber waited for them. “Thanks,” he grunted, a tool belt strapped around his waist.
The man turned to leave, and Claber called out, “Eli.”
Eli paused. “Yes?”
“Bring some toast. For the girls. They’ll be working hard today.” Claber’s lip curled upward, disappearing behind his mustache.
“Got it.” Eli disappeared into the house.
They spent the day on the roof, fixing potential leaks. By the time they came back inside and headed into the attic, Jaci felt too tired to climb. She gripped the ladder rungs in her hands, her head sagging.
Amanda had already made it up, and Sara lingered behind her. So many times Jaci had looked over the edge at that four-story drop and wondered what it would be like to fall. Would she be scared? Would it hurt when she hit the ground? Or would it happen so fast that all she would feel was a huge gust of wind, and then it would be over?
She sighed and crawled after Amanda, over the bumpy wooden floor. The trapdoor closed behind them, the deadbolt clicking as Claber latched it into place.
“Where’s Sara?” Amanda asked.
The haze cleared from Jaci’s mind. “I don’t know. She was right behind me.”
Amanda pounded on the trapdoor. “Hey! Sara! Where’s Sara?”
A numbness closed over Jaci’s chest as she backed up against the attic wall. A cobweb brushed her face. She stumbled forward, joining Amanda. Together they screamed and pounded on the trapdoor until they were hoarse.
First Callie, now Sara. Who would be next?
Someone touched her shoulder, and Jaci swung her hands up, blindly slapping before realizing it was Amanda.
Jaci grasped Amanda’s arm, clinging to her. “This is it,” she said, a sob building in her throat. “We’re going to die. They’re going to separate us.”
“Jaci. We’re going to find Sara, and we’re going to get out of here. It’s not the end.”
Taking several deep breaths, Jaci forced herself to relax. “All right. We’ll find Sara.”
“Yes. Tomorrow. And then we run. No matter what.”
“No matter what,” Jaci echoed.
September 17
Shelley, Idaho
Mr. Rivera, a tall, broad-shouldered man with glittering black eyes and cropped black hair, opened the screen door. “I’ve been waiting for you, Detective.”
Carl followed the man to the white porch-swing. “I’m terribly sorry about your daughter. What an awful thing to come home to.”
“Yes.” Mr. Rivera focused his dark eyes on Carl. “I had a few things to tie up. I came as soon as I could.”
His accent was thicker than his wife’s. Carl glanced down at his notes. His palms were sweating. “What company did you say you work for, Mr. Rivera?”
The man leaned back in the swing. “Call me Greg. I work for International Accounting Alliances, based out of Dallas. I spend a lot of time traveling.”
“Your wife said you got your degree in accounting at the National Autonomous University in Mexico. But she wasn’t sure she had the right university. Do you recall what it was?”
He was giving Mr. Rivera a chance to give him the right data. He had already checked with the university, and they had never had a Gregorio Rivera enrolled.
One corner of Mr. Rivera’s lip rolled upward. “Are you interviewing me? I was going to interview you. No, it wasn’t the National University of Mexico. I went to the University of Pedrita in Zacatecas, doing my studies in business negotiations.”
“And where was your first job after college?”
Mr. Rivera stared at him. “Gatorland.”
“Gatorland?” Carl raised an eyebrow. “Where’s that?”
“Theme park in Orlando.”
That was unexpected. Carl wrote it down. “When did you move your family here?”
“I met my wife in Orlando. Almost twenty years ago.” He leaned forward. “I want to know about my daughter. What leads do you have?”
Carl flipped through his notes. “We don’t have any leads. At this point, we do believe it was a kidnapping.”
Mr. Rivera narrowed his eyes. “You have no suspects on the robbery?”
Carl shook his head. “None. The only fingerprints we found were Amanda Murphy’s, in the door frame.”
“Then it had to be The Hand.”
The Hand. The robber was so-called because the first few burglaries, a decade ago now, each had a crayon-traced hand, minus the fingerprints, on the unbroken glass of the jewelry case. He had quit leaving the calling card years ago, but the name had stuck.
“I’m hesitant to blame every robbery on him.”
“He was in the area. We know he was in Utah. Why not Idaho, too?”
“Kidnapping has never been a part of his game.”
Mr. Rivera pressed his index fingers to his forehead. “And you don’t know where his base is?”
The Hand always vanished. Sometimes for months, sometimes years, only to reappear again and disappear as quickly. “The Hand’s a cat thief. High-tech burglar. He’s not been a top priority because he’s more of a nuisance than a danger. However, if he really took the Swan Lake Necklace in Houston, which included two homicides, and kidnapped the girls, he has managed to jump a little higher on the list.”
Mr. Rivera shook his head and jumped off the swing. “Thank you for speaking with me, Detective. If I learn anything, I’ll be in touch.” He went inside.
Carl stood there a moment, a slight frown creasing his brow. That hadn’t gone how he had expected. He looked over the notes he had taken. He would check these sources.
He needed a reward. The last of his Claussen pickles were calling him.
Chapter 8
The low murmur of voices in the hall under the attic woke Jaci. She felt sore from lying on the wooden floorboards all night.
A movement next to her distracted her. It was Sara, curled in a fetal position, arms around her head.
“Sara! You’re back.”
Sara lifted her face, her eyes blank.
Amanda sat up and let out a cry. She grabbed Sara into a hug. “Where were you?”
“Here,” Sara answered. Her voice sounded empty and dull.
Something wasn’t right. Not sure what to say, Jaci wandered to the small round window. She saw The Hand walk out the front door. The yellow Camaro sat in the circle drive, driver sitting at idle, passenger door open.
Jaci snapped her fingers. “You guys, come here. He’s going somewhere.”
Amanda joined her. The Hand was giving instructions to someone in the doorway. Three of his men were with him. Jaci recognized two of them. Grey, the guy with the fat lips, and the dark-eyed one with razor eyebrows—was his name Eli?
“Where is he going?” Amanda asked. Her shoulders touched Jaci’s as they each tried to peer through the tiny opening, barely bigger than one of their heads.
The Hand glanced up at the window, his face implacable as he saluted in their direction. Then he slithered into the passenger seat and the car sped away.
Just as the vehicle pulled around the house, another car pulled up, one with a red and blue rack of lights on top and white-on-blue lettering on the side. Jaci gripped Amanda’s hand. “It’s the police.”
“They found us!” Amanda cried.
The trap door swung open, and one of The Hand’s musclemen poked his head up. “Come on down.”
He was taking them down? They must not have noticed the police car. If they could just be seen—or get someone’s attention.
The man’s head popped out of view, and the girls followed him down the ladder. He waited for them below. She tried to remember his name, but came up empty. He looked kind of like Homer Simpson, so she dubbed him Homer.
“Someone’s coming to see you.” Homer smiled without mirth. “You need to use the bathroom and get cleaned up. Come on.”
They followed him downstairs to the bathroom on the main floor. They turned a corner to see two officers, laughing and talking to Grey and another man.
Jaci and Amanda exchanged glances, and together they launched themselves at the policemen.
“Help us,” cried Amanda.
Jaci threw herself at the feet of one of the men. “We’ve been kidnapped. Please, take us away!”
The officer looked down at her in total silence, and then all the men burst out laughing.
He hooked his boot on Jaci’s shoulder and shoved her. “Get off me.”
“Stupid girls,” Homer snarled, reaching out and backhanding Jaci across the face. “These are The Hand’s police. Didn’t he tell you he has his own force? Wolves among the sheep?”
Understanding washed over her, and Jaci felt the blood drain from her face.
“Now get in the bathroom and get cleaned up. One at a time. And don’t try any more stupid stunts.” He shoved Jaci and Amanda back toward Sara.
Still chuckling, the fake officer placed his hat back on his head and Grey escorted them out of the room. Homer kept his eyes on Jaci and Sara.
Sara looked at Jaci and shook her head, her hazel eyes hooded.
Jaci leaned against the white wall and studied her dirty fingernails. It was hopeless. How to get away when they were shadowed every minute?
Amanda came out of the bathroom, and Sara went in. Poor Sara. She hadn’t said more than a word since returning during the night.
From the other room, the phone rang.
“Claber, come watch them!” Homer hollered. “I’ve gotta get the phone. It might be Truman with Sid.”
“Right,” Claber yelled from the higher floor.
The guard turned to the girls. “Don’t move.” With that, he trotted away.
As soon as his back was turned, Amanda yanked open the bathroom door. Sara stood by the sink, washing her face, eyes wide. Amanda grabbed Jaci’s forearm and thrust her inside, then closed the door and locked it.
“Quick,” she said, “we have to hurry.” Amanda rushed to a window over the toilet and pushed it open.
“There’s no screen,” Jaci said, stating the obvious.
“And it’s not locked. Go, go, go, go.” Amanda climbed through.
Jaci scrambled after her. There was a bump outside the bathroom door, and she paused with one leg out the window.
“Hey, Sanders?” came Claber’s voice. “Was it this bathroom?”
Jaci dropped to the ground outside, then reached up to help Sara. They pulled her through the window, and Amanda closed it.
“Run!” said Jaci.
The forest was about ten yards in front of them. They made a mad dash for it.
“Hurry, hurry,” Jaci gasped aloud as they ran. “Don’t stop.”
“They’ll search the house first,” Sara said. “They won’t know we were all inside the bathroom.”
“They’ll know,” Jaci panted, “when they check and it’s locked.”
“Don’t talk,” snapped Amanda. “Just run. And pray there’s no dogs.”
Chapter 9
Amanda came to a sudden halt, panting and holding her side. “Stop,” she gasped. “I can’t keep running.”
Jaci and Sara pulled up and walked back the few feet to her. Jaci, out of breath, grabbed a tree trunk for support. She was an endurance runner, not a sprinter, and she welcomed the break. She had already tripped over a branch, fallen on a rock, and scratched her face going through thorns. “They’ll be right behind us.”
“Maybe we should split up?” Amanda suggested.
“No!” cried Sara.
Jaci reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll stick together. Find a place to hide and lay low until nightfall. Then we can keep going.”
“Are you sure?” asked Amanda. “Wouldn’t it be better to get away as quickly as possible?”
“We can’t just hurry down this mountain. We’ve got to think. They’ll be waiting at the bottom for us.”
Amanda nodded. “Okay. Let’s find a place to hide—a tree, overhang, cave, something. Go.”
In an instant they were off again. Jaci prayed as she stumbled over the undergrowth. “Please, Lord. Please, Lord. Please, Lord.” She never formed a deeper thought.
As she ran around an uprooted tree, she tripped.
“Oh!” Her hands shot out as the world fell away. It took her a moment to realize she was in a hole left by the uprooted tree. The hole disappeared into the forest floor, hidden by the overhanging, broken roots. “Sara, Amanda. In here.”
They hopped in next to her. Jaci pulled dead leaves and debris into the hole, covering themselves with the foliage.
Sara stopped her. “Shh. Listen.”
They froze. The sound of feet crashed through underbrush nearby.
“Faster,” Jaci said. They piled up leaves quickly, stopping when the footsteps got closer.
Jaci sunk into the leaves, huddling close to her friends. If anyone looks inside the hole, they’ll see us. Jaci breathed her little prayer, her lips moving soundlessly. She could feel Amanda’s heart pounding under her elbow. Sara’s knees crushed against her ribcage.
Footsteps rustled the leaves near their hiding place. Jaci tensed, her muscles preparing to catapult her from the root-hole and fly down the mountainside. Amanda gripped her forearm, pinching. A spider crept across the leaves under nose. She stared at it.
Amanda spotted it too. Her eyes widened as she drew her head back. A soft gasp escaped her lips.
“Hey!” The man’s voice came from right above them.
Jaci squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her shoulders, trying to slide further into the leaves.
“Find anything?” The second voice was further away, but coming closer.
Jaci’s heart pounded. She knew they could not outrun these men.
“No.” Dirt kicked into their hole as a large boot walked by. “Nothing over here.”
Jaci didn’t breathe. She listened to his footsteps jog away. The running feet turned into shouting voices that faded as they traveled down the hill. It took several minutes before Jaci found the courage to open her eyes.
<
br /> They were safe. She felt Amanda’s grip on her arm relax.
The girls didn’t move for about an hour. Every time Amanda checked her watch, her tangled red hair brushed Jaci’s cheek. Jaci’s legs were starting to cramp and the adrenaline was wearing off, making her tired and irritated.
“What now?” Sara said.
“We wait,” Jaci said back. “At least ’til nightfall. Maybe even ’til tomorrow. They’ll be looking everywhere for us.”
Amanda shook her head. “No, we can’t wait that long. I say we wait until nightfall, then make a run for it. The forest is big; they can’t be everywhere. We have to trust our luck or risk being trapped in here forever.”
Jaci glanced at Sara, who watched her with brooding eyes. “All right. We wait until dark. We don’t run. We watch each other. If one person stops, we all stop. And not one word. Got it?”
She met each girl’s eyes in turn, and they nodded. Jaci opened and closed her fists uneasily, then leaned her head against the rotten wood.
It was the longest hour ever. Jaci memorized every leaf in front of her. She listened to the birds cooing. She watched an insect crawl around the debris. She wondered how many small, white termites crawled in her hair.
Someone’s stomach gave a furious growl, and Jaci began to huddle tighter and rock a bit. “I never got to go to the bathroom,” she said.
Amanda gave her a tight smile. “Just don’t do it now, okay?”
“I need to go again, too,” Sara said.
The sun began to set, and she could feel everyone tensing in anticipation. There had been no further sign of the men. The occasional squirrel scampering by had set Jaci’s heart into a staccato break dance, but the men appeared to have moved on.
When it was too dark to clearly see the trees in front of them, they pushed away the leaf barrier and crawled out. Jaci crouched over the damp leaves, shaking and trembling as she tried to keep herself up. She exhaled, relieved to empty her bladder.
It was a dark night, with a sliver of moonlight poking through the branches. They could barely see each other as they moved through the forest.
It took several hours before they reached flat ground. The trees cleared a bit, and then they were in a grassy meadow. Without the tree foliage to block the moonlight, they had better visibility.
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