by Liz Johnson
That was going to leave a nasty bruise, but he couldn’t afford to have the man alerting his boss until Ashley was safe.
With a shudder, Matt pushed himself to his knees and dragged the second unconscious man back down the stairs. Then he hustled past the four cells on each side of the hall to the garden hose. With swift fingers he unscrewed the metal end attached to the spigot, then took it back to the two limp forms. A few creative knots was all it took to secure them to the chains on the wall, at least for the time being.
The knots wouldn’t hold for long, but it might slow them down long enough to give the police a chance to get there. Maybe they hadn’t actually done anything illegal in the basement, but guys like this usually had rap sheets a mile long, and, if he was lucky, an outstanding warrant or two.
Now he had to get back to Ashley. There was no telling what their boss had in store for her, as long as she hid Joy.
* * *
Ashley jerked awake, the sound of a door closing drawing her from a fitful sleep. Slipping on her jeans and a sweater, she tiptoed into the empty hallway. Careful to avoid the hardwood slat that always creaked when stepped on, she scurried toward the front door.
When she got there, her stomach flipped and twirled as fast as the flashing light of the alarm system keypad.
Someone had just reset it, and it didn’t take a gumshoe to figure out who. The laundry room door stood wide-open; Matt’s cot was empty and his blankets were folded neatly on the foot of the bed. Apparently navy habits died hard, even on leave.
How could he leave her alone? Of course she could take care of things herself, but that didn’t make it okay that he’d suddenly decided to take off without so much as a word about it. They’d been shot at, threatened and assaulted. And he thought it was a good time to waltz off without telling her?
Taking a deep breath and wrapping her arms around her stomach, she tried to talk herself out of her own insanity.
“He’s probably just checking around the house.” Her whisper barely carried to her own ears let alone down the corridor. “I don’t need him here with me every single second, and anyway, he’ll be back in a minute.”
He didn’t come back in a minute. In fact, after three minutes ticked out in agonizing seconds on the grandfather clock, the only change was the uneasiness brewing in her stomach.
What if the noise that had woken her wasn’t Matt leaving but someone entering? Or what if Matt had gone out and had been injured again?
Fear built upon fear, and she squeezed her eyes tight against the sudden desire to crumble to the floor and hide from everything that this day represented.
But she had to be strong. If she couldn’t be strong with Matt gone, she’d never be able to be strong with him there. She could face this morning, this day, without him. Wherever he was.
She snuck up to the door and brushed the curtain aside just enough to scope out the front yard.
Empty.
“God, I’m being so silly. Give me a peaceful heart today.”
She couldn’t quite produce a true smile as she turned toward her office, but the churning in her stomach had slowed. Settled into her desk chair, she picked up her address book, automatically flipping through the pages until she reached the last, and punched in the number Tristan had written in years before. His voice mail picked up after half a ring.
“This is Matt Waterstone. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back.”
After the phone beeped, she stared at it for several long seconds before hanging up. No use unloading her ridiculous worries on him. He’d be back shortly.
But maybe she could do a little investigating while she was alone. After a quick glance at the clock on the wall, she punched a different number into the keypad.
“Chief Donal.”
“This is Ashley Sawyer.”
“Ashley.” He gave her name two extra syllables, like his tongue was too heavy to annunciate. “What can I do for you...at seven-thirty this morning?”
A thick strand of hair fell into her face, and she brushed it behind her ear. “Have you heard anything lately?”
“Anything about what?”
The hair escaped again, and she ran her fingers through it to put it back into place. “You know what. My shattered windshield. The brick that someone threw through my window. The notes. Miranda’s disappearance. The gunshot that sailed right past my head and blew out my car’s window. Feel free to pick any of them.”
He cleared his throat, and she could picture him loosening his tie. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to say.”
“On which one?”
“All of them.”
Her head fell forward into her hand, propped up by an elbow on the desk. The wayward strand fell, too, and she blew a frustrated sigh out of the corner of her mouth, sending the hair flying. “You must have something. Anything.” The pitch of her voice rose, and she cringed. The desperation was evident, and she had to fight it. Had to stay strong. “Please. Give me something.”
He shuffled some papers, the gentle scratching crystal clear over the phone line. “Let’s see. The notes didn’t have any prints on them. Not even the one that was attached to the brick that went through your front window.” As he continued looking, he whistled under his breath and she held hers.
There had to be something that would give them a clue, because the next shot might miss her again but hit one of the others. She pressed the heel of her palm into her eye, only adding to the pressure building there.
Giving up Joy wasn’t the answer. It wasn’t even an option. She’d die before she’d give the wounded, haunted girl back to this lunatic. Her huge almond-shaped eyes had stared, never blinking, as she trembled just inside the back door. She’d bitten her lip and nodded at Miranda’s prodding, speaking rarely and even then, never above a whisper. Except for when they prompted her to hold her arms out so they could check her over, not once had she pulled her arms from where they were wrapped around her body. She had barely even flinched when they’d gently prodded her arms for broken bones beneath that sea of bruises.
This was all because Joy had stumbled into her home. Joy was the link to the midnight blue Suburban and the man behind it all.
So maybe they should be trying to find out more about her.
“Chief! Can you look into something for me?”
“What kind of something?”
She rubbed her forehead, inadvertently pulling that wayward strand of hair back into her face. Blowing it away again, she leaned over to reach her filing cabinet beside the desk. As her fingers skimmed the file names, she chewed her lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that my troubles are all related to an abused woman we had at the house a few weeks ago.”
“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” His voice rose an octave. “Who is she?”
“I’m not quite sure, but she was in serious trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“She was beat up pretty bad, mostly on her arms.”
“Self-defense?”
Ashley finally found the file she had been looking for and pulled it from the cabinet, laying it open on her desk. “I don’t think so. The bruises went all the way around her arms, like they’d been made by a hand circling the whole way.”
He sighed as though she was the bane of his existence. “Where is she now?”
It would be so easy to just hand the whole thing over to the chief, to tell him where the girl was hidden. But what if he let it slip to the wrong person? She couldn’t risk the information about Joy’s location getting out to anyone. She just needed to know more about her. Maybe they could figure out who was after her if they knew more about who she was.
“Could you maybe find out who she is first?”
“First?” She could picture his face turnin
g red, the vein in his forehead throbbing as his agitation grew. “How about first you tell me where I can find her?”
“I can’t. I just need to know if there are any missing person reports out there for her. Could you just check to see if there are reports within a five-hundred-mile radius for someone matching her description?”
“Five hundred miles? Are you kidding me? That’s all the way into Nevada, which means getting the feds involved, which would be a whole ’nother mess.”
She steepled her hands in front of her mouth, scanning the file for any bit of information she might have overlooked. What could be useful? What would point to Joy’s true identity?
Ignoring the chief’s qualms, she dove into the description he should search for. “She’s of Asian heritage. Between the ages of sixteen and twenty.”
“Whoa. Hold up right there, Ms. Sawyer. If she was underage, you should have called Child Protective Services immediately.”
A flood of heat washed over her face. She hadn’t meant to admit that she thought the girl could be so young, but if he agreed to search for a missing person, he had to consider all possibilities.
“She said she was eighteen.”
“Did she have any sort of identification?” he asked, pressing the point.
“None.”
“So you just took her word for it that she was of age?” Sarcasm dripped from his words like honey from the comb. “Of course you did.” By now the pulsing in his forehead was likely about to pop, but she didn’t have anything to add that would soften the blow.
“She was in trouble. And she still is.”
“Because the person you think is after you is actually after her.” He didn’t sound like he believed her at all.
She mouthed a prayer under her breath, asking for the right words, not even sure where to begin. “Chief, I know you’re a busy man. And I know you have a small staff. Your office deserves more than you’ve got. But you’re still here to serve and protect the citizens of Charity Way, right?”
He grumbled something that she’d never be able to repeat, but finally said, “I suppose.”
“Well, I need your services right now. I need you to help protect me and the families at Lil’s Place. You’ve followed up on every lead we’ve given you, right?”
His huff echoed over the line. “Of course.” Now he was offended.
Good.
“Well, I’m giving you another lead. Follow up on Joy. You don’t need to know where she is to figure out if anyone is missing her.”
“I’ll see if I can get someone on it this week.”
Time to pull out the big guns. “What if finding out Joy’s past will reveal what happened to Miranda? I’m sure the two are linked. Miranda was the one who brought her here.”
He mumbled a few choice words through his hand and finished with a loud groan. “Fine. Give me her details again.”
Ashley ran through the list of notes she’d taken on the girl. Height. Approximate weight. Even a description of the torn blue jeans and stained pink sweater she’d been wearing. After asking a few more questions, he hung up with a promise to check into any reports and even call a friend who worked across the state line.
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, a smile creeping into place. It wasn’t much, but she’d done something. She’d done as much as she could for the moment. Maybe it wouldn’t pan out, but maybe the chief would uncover something that would blow the whole case wide open.
The three sharp reports on the door of her office made her jump, and she turned just as Benita poked her head in.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, Ashley, but it’s Julio.”
She stood and hurried across the floor to hold the other woman’s shaking hand. “What is it?”
“He’s running a terrible fever. It’s over one hundred and one already.” Benita’s eyes clouded with concern; the features of her face pulled into a tight mask of her own pain.
“Did you give him something to bring it down?”
“We’re all out. Meghan gave Greta the last of the fever reducer last week.”
Ashley grabbed her purse as she stepped all the way into the hallway. “I’ll run to the pharmacy right now and pick some up.”
“Thank you.”
Before ducking out the front door, she poked her head into Lil’s room. The older woman sat in her rocking chair, her Bible open across her lap.
“I’m running to the store. I’ll be right back.”
“Is Matt going with you?”
She chewed on the corner of her lip. “I’m not sure where he is right now. But he’ll probably be back soon.”
Lil pushed a slipper-covered toe against the floor, the gentle rocking motion of the old wooden chair contrasting with the sudden tightening of the lines around her mouth. “Maybe you should wait until he gets back.”
The thought was tempting. She could wait for him and hold his arm as they walked the eight blocks to the store. She could wait and be assured of safety.
But Julio couldn’t wait.
This is what it meant to be strong for her girls. Going outside even when she wanted nothing more than to curl up and wait for someone else to face the unknown.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t worry about me.” Her voice caught on the last word, and she cleared her throat to cover her own fear before offering a solid smile. “I’ll be fine.”
She disengaged the alarm system, but didn’t open the door until she’d inspected the yard for any intruders. The pitch in her stomach had less to do with what she thought she might find there and far too much with hoping to see signs of Matt returning.
The yard was as untouched and empty as it had been almost an hour earlier. And the raised hair on her arms was from the morning chill. Right?
She dipped her hand into the outside pocket of her purse, her fingers wrapping around the thin metal tube of pepper spray.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slipped outside.
Just as she turned to lock the dead bolt behind her, an arm twisted around her waist while another one wrapped around her throat. She started to scream, but it was cut off as abruptly as it began. The arm around her waist moved to cover her mouth, and the one around her neck tightened, cutting off her supply of air as everything went black.
FOURTEEN
As he rounded the corner two blocks from Lil’s at a dead run, Matt pushed everything but Ashley’s welfare out of his mind. His ears rang with the pounding of blood, his muscles burning.
A scream pierced through his consciousness. It was high-pitched, filled with fear and cut off quickly.
Ashley.
He knew it in his heart even before he saw her blond hair disappear into the backseat of a painfully familiar midnight-blue SUV. Before he heard the back doors slam and the tires squeal against the pavement.
Pressing his body for every ounce of strength left, he reached his truck and jumped in.
Like a fool, he’d left his keys inside, so he made quick work of hot-wiring the engine, a skill he’d picked up from one of his foster brothers.
In six seconds flat he was flooring the old pickup after the abductors, swerving between lanes and sailing around morning commuters.
As his knuckles turned white around the steering wheel, he took three deep breaths. His eyes swept the roadways and every side street for any sign of the SUV.
Where had it disappeared to?
He’d been after it within moments. It couldn’t have vanished so quickly. Not with Ashley in it.
He had to find her.
He had to save her.
But what if he couldn’t?
Human traffickers had a vast underground system for moving their wares. He’d seen it before in places like Thailand, but it happene
d stateside, too. Women and kids disappeared and popped up hundreds of miles away, slaves to a system that made his head spin and his stomach roll.
What if he couldn’t find her?
Pain shot through this chest, a band around his heart pulling taut. He kept both hands on the wheel as he flew through a yellow traffic light, despite the need to claw at his chest to relieve the pressure building there.
A flash of blue caught his eye, and he crossed three lanes of traffic to follow it before realizing it was a sports car. He spun again onto Main Street, not far from the police station. The colorful awnings of the town’s tourist district taunted him with their cheerful appearance.
He’d lost her. He’d lost the woman he loved.
The knot in his stomach twisted so hard that he had to pull off into an alley so he could get out of his truck and wretch.
With one arm resting against the cement block wall of a building, he leaned over and emptied his stomach, his whole body shaking.
No mission, successful or not, had ever made him physically ill.
But this was so much more than a mission.
He pressed his shoulder into the wall, just needing something to lean on, a groan coming from deep inside as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
How had this happened? How had he failed to protect her as he was supposed to—as he wanted to? Why had he left her alone even for just an hour? He’d seen the kind of things these beasts did to humans. And now they had Ashley.
God had to give him the strength to get her back.
There wasn’t any other option.
Jumping back into his truck, he pulled out of the alley and headed back to Lil’s. More than likely the women there were still fine, but that didn’t mean he was okay with leaving them unattended while he figured out his next step.
As he barreled toward the house, he punched a number into his phone, flicking it to the hands-free setting as he turned a corner on two wheels.