The truck came to a stop. Brody lay still on his side, his ankles pressed tightly together, his hands behind his back. Hannah sat next to him. Their eyes met.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
The door rolled open. Brody’s heart slammed against ribs he suspected were broken. Every deep breath he drew felt like a knife slicing him from the inside out. He closed his eyes almost all the way.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Mick climbed into the truck. Gun at his thigh, he prodded Brody with the toe of a boot. Brody let his body roll limply.
“Is he dead?” Mick asked.
Hannah sniffed. “I don’t think so, but I think he might have some internal injuries. He needs to get to a hospital. Please.”
“In a short while, it isn’t going to matter much.” Mick laughed. He leaned over to grab her arm. “Get up.”
Watching through his lashes, Brody wanted to kill him right there and then, but he waited. They had a plan. Hannah wasn’t injured. Brody needed to trust her.
Mick bent over. The knife in his hand moved toward Hannah’s ankles.
She wobbled, making a show of awkwardly folding her feet under her body. When her boots were planted flat, she launched her body forward, head first. Her forehead struck Mick in the nose. Blood spurted.
“Fucking bitch.” He punched her and brought the knife up.
Brody rolled, taking Mick’s feet out from under him. Mick went over backward, his knife clattering to the metal floor. He flipped onto his belly and reached in his pocket. His hand came out with a gun. Brody crawled onto his back. Mick leveled the pistol and turned the barrel to aim at Hannah. Brody couldn’t move fast enough to disarm him. Instead, he snapped Mick’s neck. The body under him went limp.
The sudden movement sent agony rolling through Brody. He panted, unable to take a deep breath.
Hannah rubbed her jaw. With a head-clearing shake, she scooped the gun from the floor and pulled the clip out to check the load. Satisfied, she snapped it back in place.
Light-headed, Brody searched Mick’s pockets and cell phone. He pressed a button, and a lock screen displayed. Pass code–protected. No use to them.
Hannah nodded toward the door, no doubt thinking exactly what was on Brody’s mind. She whispered, “The brother is out there.”
The one who took a bat to Joleen’s face.
“We need to get out of here.” Brody rolled the dead man into the dark back corner of the truck. Then he peered out the door. Not trusting his vision in the dark, he waved Hannah forward. She nodded the all clear.
A cold wind hit them full force as they climbed down from the trunk. Next to him, Hannah shivered.
Knife in hand, Brody took in their surroundings. Trees in the distance. Large, bulky shapes all around. Where were they? A rectangular structure loomed ahead. There was another behind it. Clouds shifted, and moonlight brightened the landscape. A train.
They were in the rail yard. The same place where Joleen’s body had been dumped.
Brody called up a mental image of the area, but the yard comprised multiple acres. They had to move. Sam was out here somewhere, armed, dangerous, and ruthless. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem his bullet wound had slowed him down. Footsteps crunched on gravel. Brody pulled Hannah into the shadow of a freight car.
“Mick?” Boots clunked on the metal ladder of the van. “Fuck. No. Mick.” An inhuman roar echoed from the moving van. Remorse slid through Brody at the wounded sound.
Sam had found his dead brother.
But Brody would have to process taking another life later. Now, fear for Hannah’s life blotted out any other emotional reaction. Sam would be coming for them, and Brody could feel his pain and rage vibrating in the cold night air.
Boots hit the dirt and came toward them. “I’m going to kill you!”
Then Sam went into stealth mode. No more footsteps. No more words. Where was he?
Brody went down on one knee and looked under the freight car. No boots. Hannah turned and faced the other direction. Back to back, they waited. Nothing. Brody pointed ahead. They needed to get out of here.
Hannah inched forward. Brody moved in a crouch, watching the ground under the train, the bent-over position killing his ribs.
The air shifted. Brody sensed more than heard the movement. He turned just as a body dropped on top of him from inside the train.
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 w
as 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.
Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls) Page 27