Hideout at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  If Morrison had purchased the factory to convert into apartments, he had yet to start the work and it would take a sizable investment of capital to make something of the old brick building. Morrison must have been making bank on real estate to think he could sink more money into the place. He’d be better off bulldozing it and starting over.

  Matt swung wide, approaching the shoe factory from the side away from the main road leading in. As he moved closer, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

  Call it intuition, or gut feeling, something wasn’t right at the old shoe factory. With his weapon drawn, he eased up to the building, searching for a window or door. In the center of the building was a single door that led out the back of the long structure. All the windows were above his head. He’d have to climb up on something to look in.

  Matt headed for the door, moving in the shadows of the trees that had overgrown the property. When he was parallel with the door, he crossed the area open to the starlight shining down, ducking back into the shadow of the structure.

  Once he reached the door, he turned the knob slowly, praying it was unlocked.

  It didn’t turn all the way, nor did it open.

  Muttering a silent curse, he debated going around to the end of the building. Both ends and the front of the building would be exposed to the starlight and would be the direction anyone keeping watch would expect someone to come from.

  Matt looked through the clutter of broken pallets and building debris for something he could pile up to stand and gaze into the windows. He found an old barrel turned on its side.

  Careful not to make a lot of noise, he rolled the barrel to the side of the building and turned it up on its end. He pressed on the metal top. It was rusty but should hold his weight.

  Matt climbed onto it, testing the strength of the rusted metal. Balancing most of his weight on the rim, he straightened and attempted to look into the building.

  The glass was so dirty, he couldn’t see through. Matt rubbed at a spot until he’d cleared enough grime to get a view. When he could finally see inside, he had to give his vision a moment to adjust to the even darker interior.

  Shadows took shape and his gut clenched. Up against the wall closest to the front of the building was a stack of lumber. On the other side of the stack was something covered in what appeared to be plastic sheeting or tarps. The shape was tall enough and long enough to be a pickup with a trailer on the back.

  Matt could detect no other movement inside, nor could he see anyone standing guard. He dropped down off the barrel and ran to the end of the building and looked for sentries posted to keep people out.

  No one.

  He tried the door on that side. It was locked. Hurrying to the front, he checked again, knowing already that the place was deserted. They’d parked the truck and trailer the ATVs had been brought in on and left.

  On the off chance they’d left their prisoners inside with the truck, Matt tried the door on the front of the building. It was locked.

  The time he’d already spent on this location was time they could be getting Aubrey and Isabella out of the county.

  Past caring how much noise he made, he kicked the door. The old lock gave, and the door swung open.

  Matt ran inside, weapon drawn, checking all four corners for movement. As he suspected, no one was there. He went straight to the plastic sheeting, ripping it away to expose a truck and a trailer big enough to haul the ATVs. Why would they leave the truck and trailer unprotected? Unless they planned to abandon them and take another mode of transportation out of the area.

  Running back to his motorcycle, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called the sheriff. “I found the truck and trailer they used to haul the ATVs in the old shoe factory.”

  “Anyone there with them?”

  “No. It’s as if they abandoned them for now.”

  “I’ll put out an APB to pick up Rodney Morrison.”

  “What else does Morrison own or have access to?” Matt asked.

  “He has a number of places throughout the county. Rental houses, commercial buildings he has leased out.”

  The long, loud wail of a train whistle sounded, sending a ripple of fear through Matt. Marcus Davidson’s words came back to him. They’d go out by helicopter or by train. “What does Morrison own along the railroad track?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sheriff Richards said. “We checked the buildings by the rail yard earlier. We didn’t find anyone in them.”

  “That was at the rail yard. What about the granary and the old rail depot?”

  “We were looking for a place large enough to house the truck and trailer,” the sheriff said. “Besides, the granary is still a working operation. It would be hard to use it for something like trafficking. I’m not sure who owns the depot now. It hasn’t been in service since the seventies.”

  “Does someone check on the granary every day? Or only when they have grain to load on a train?” Matt asked.

  “Only when there’s grain being loaded into the silos or onto a train,” the sheriff said.

  “How long does the train stop in Whiskey Gulch?” Matt asked.

  “Not long, if they haven’t prearranged grain operations or cargo to be loaded.” The sheriff paused. “Look, I’ll start looking at the north end of the row of buildings along the track,” the sheriff said.

  “I’ll start at the south end near the depot and granary,” Matt said. “And I’ll notify my team.”

  “I’ll let my deputies know not to shoot you and your guys.”

  As Matt ended the call with the sheriff, he reached the place he’d left his motorcycle. He called Trace and let him know what he’d found at the shoe factory.

  “The train is rolling into town now,” Trace said. “If they don’t have cargo scheduled, they might move on through. Either way, the train will be slowing enough someone could possibly get on, even if they don’t stop. I’m coming down the tracks from the north. If you join me, keep in mind that train will be out of town before we have much of a chance to search the cars.”

  “Headed there now,” Matt said, swinging his leg over his bike. “Will take me about three minutes.”

  “You’ll get here sooner than we will. We’re on the opposite end of town.”

  “I’ll be the guy moving around in the shadows. Don’t shoot me,” Matt said.

  Trace chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of shooting the half brother who horned in on my inheritance.”

  “Not making me feel much better,” Matt grumbled.

  “You’re family now. We’re on our way.”

  “Out here.” Matt pulled on his helmet, revved the engine and spun out of the alley onto the road. Time was ticking by. If he wasn’t right about the train... Thirty minutes had already passed since Aubrey was taken. If her abductors had slipped past all the roadblocks, they could be miles away by now.

  Laying open the throttle, he raced toward the railroad, praying he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The drug was wearing off. What started as tingling in her fingertips and toes spread to her hands, feet, arms and legs. Soon she was able to move her entire body. Unable to break, by sheer force, the duct tape they’d used to bind her wrists, she had to find something sharp to rub it against that would cut through the tape.

  The room was dimly lit by the glow of starlight through a window.

  Morrison stood with two Hispanic men, watching out the window, speaking in low tones, their backs to Aubrey.

  Able to move now, she turned her head and scanned the area, looking for something sharp. She lay on a tile floor in what appeared to be an office of some sort with an old metal desk and a file cabinet in one corner.

  The loud blast of a train whistle gave their location away. The building they were in had to be near the railroad tracks, and Morrison and his cohorts were staging
their human products for transport.

  Hope surged inside Aubrey.

  After their conversation with Marcus Davidson, Matt would know to check the train coming through town that night.

  Aubrey couldn’t wait for him to find her. What if he’d been injured in the fire at his mother’s cottage? The sheriff had been responsible for checking the buildings along the railroad tracks. If he’d already verified they were empty, would he think it worth their efforts to check again?

  The cartel knew their business, including how to hide human cargo by keeping it moving from place to place. Hadn’t they seen that already by the evidence of the oil in the racehorse barn and the revival building?

  Aubrey frowned. Where had they hidden the leaky truck and the trailer? She’d been brought here in a van. Matt and the sheriff weren’t looking for a van. They were looking for the truck. Had Morrison and his cartel groupies ditched the truck as another way to distract the searchers?

  While the men were staring out the window, Aubrey eyed the old metal desk. It was hard to tell whether there were any sharp edges on the desk, but, as far as she could tell in the gloom, it was her only chance of finding a surface to scrape the tape against.

  She rocked her body, testing the movement for the noise it might create. So far, her efforts had drawn no attention from her captors. They were looking through the window, probably watching for the coming train.

  Another loud whistle sounded.

  Based on the deafening blast, the train was getting closer. If she didn’t do something soon, she would have no chance to break through the duct tape before they tossed her and Isabella onto the train, taking them to some buyer intent on using them in the sex trade.

  Aubrey had no intention of letting that happen to her or Isabella. But, if she was going to be successful, she couldn’t let them hit her up with whatever drug they’d used on her in the first place. She’d been completely incapacitated. Aubrey had never been more frightened in her life. Women and young girls were being forced into doing things they would never do by being given drugs that diminished their physical and mental capacity.

  She wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t.

  Matt, his friends and the sheriff’s department would find them before it was too late.

  Aubrey glanced at the men by the window again. Their focus was outside the window; they weren’t paying attention to her.

  She rocked one direction and rolled back in the other direction as hard as she could to get over her bound hands. She rolled again and ended up with her back to the metal desk. Moving like an inchworm, she positioned her hands against one of the legs on the desk, felt for a sharp edge and nearly cried when she found one.

  Quickly and quietly, she sawed her hands back and forth, rubbing the duct tape against the sharp and rusty metal desk leg. She couldn’t tell if it was working or how close she was to breaking through.

  The next train whistle sounded so loudly, the train had to be right outside the building.

  The men at the window turned suddenly.

  Aubrey went limp, closing her eyes, pretending she was still unconscious.

  Two men lifted the crate containing Isabella and carried it out the door.

  Two other men frowned as they moved toward Aubrey. Had they noticed that she’d moved?

  Her eyes cracked open just enough to see through the slits, Aubrey watched, wishing she was free to fight against the men grabbing her by her arms and feet. The duct tape held true as they carried her outside. She’d not been able to cut it.

  A bright light headed their way, slowing as it neared where they were standing. The metal on metal sound of the train wheels rolling on the tracks grew louder and louder.

  Come on, Matt, Aubrey willed.

  Cars rolled past, one by one, the train lurching to a crawl, a pace slow enough that a man could walk alongside and keep up.

  One of the men ran down the line of cars, jumped up on one of them and pulled open a sliding door.

  As it passed where they were standing, two men tossed the crate containing Isabella into the car with the man who’d opened the door. Another man jumped in with the little girl.

  No.

  Tears filled Aubrey’s eyes. She’d promised Isabella that help would come.

  But it hadn’t. Now it was up to Aubrey to save the little girl.

  She didn’t struggle to get loose. Now was not the time to miss the train that was taking a child away to be sold into misery. Aubrey studied the car they’d thrown Isabella into. Graffiti covered the exterior with a skull and some letters she couldn’t quite make out in the dark. She counted the number of cars as they passed.

  Another man ran down the track, jumped onto the side of the train, slid open the door on one of the empty cars and dived inside.

  Morrison and the dark-haired guy beside him lifted Aubrey beneath her arms and by her ankles and swung her up into the open car.

  She landed so hard, it knocked the breath from her lungs and shot pain through her hip and shoulder where they hit the floor.

  As she lay on her side regaining her breath, the train rumbled beneath her. She twisted her hands, pulling hard, working the tape she’d already torn a little. The man who’d dived into the car before her reached out a hand and helped the dark-haired man who’d aided Morrison when he threw her in.

  He pulled the other man up into the car.

  Morrison didn’t join them. That meant she had to deal with only two men.

  Only. She fought the urge to laugh hysterically. Her best bet was to pretend to be unconscious and get the tape off her wrists and ankles. Once she freed herself, she’d figure out how to get past the men and up four cars to free Isabella. She wasn’t leaving the train without the girl.

  While the two men stood by the door, looking out at the buildings as they passed slowly, Aubrey rolled over to the other side of the car and rubbed the tape on her wrists against the rusty wall, pulling hard against her wrists to break the tape. She could feel the strands snapping one at a time.

  Finally, her wrists broke free.

  Her glance went to the two men. They still stood at the door, looking out.

  Aubrey struggled to remove the rest of the tape from her wrists and then brought her knees to her chest and worked at the tape around her ankles. The noise of the train rolling across the tracks masked the sound of her unwinding the tape from her ankles.

  When she was free, she looked again at the men standing at the door like bowling pins ready to be knocked over. She had one shot at getting this right. Bunching her legs beneath her, she launched herself at the man closest to her like a linebacker going for the quarterback. She hit him hard in the middle of his back. He pitched forward into the other guy, and they both fell out of the rail car.

  Aubrey caught herself on the side of the door, struggling to avoid falling out of the train after the two men.

  A shout sounded outside the train. The two men she’d shoved were on their feet and running alongside, catching up to the car where Aubrey clung.

  One of them pulled out a gun and aimed it at the car.

  Aubrey threw herself to the floor. A second later, the crack of gunfire sounded, and a bullet pinged against the railcar.

  The train continued to move slowly. The men racing after it were catching up to the car she was in. Her plan to free herself and get rid of the men hadn’t included them coming back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Matt arrived at the granary at the north end of Whiskey Gulch and drove past the silos, one at a time, looking for movement, vehicles and people. He didn’t see anything out of place. When he arrived at the office building, he parked his bike and moved up to it, his weapon drawn, past caring if he was seen. Their time was running out.

  The train had reached the south end of town and was rumbling slowly through. If the cartel planned on moving people on t
he train, they’d be somewhere along the tracks, waiting for the chance to load them onto a car.

  He looked into the windows of the office. No one moved inside. The place appeared deserted.

  With the train moving closer, he didn’t have time to waste. He returned to his motorcycle and left the granary, moving on to the depot at least two hundred yards ahead.

  As he approached the old building that had long since been retired and sold, the engines of a long cargo train chugged along the railroad track, passing the depot and the granary where Matt had been moments before.

  His pulse picking up, Matt opened up the throttle and raced toward the depot.

  The train wasn’t slowing to a stop. If Isabella and Aubrey’s abductors were going to get them on that train, they’d have to do it while it was moving. They could have already done it from one of the buildings along the track farther north of the depot. Which meant, Aubrey and Isabella could be in one of the cars passing Matt as he raced toward the other building he was supposed to check.

  A white van pulled away as Matt arrived at the depot.

  Matt couldn’t let anyone leave the area without being questioned. He caught up to the van, drove alongside the vehicle and pounded on the window. “Pull over!” he shouted.

  The driver slowed to a stop and the window came down. Rodney Morrison stared out at him, an eyebrow cocked. “Matthew Hennessey, what are you doing terrorizing law-abiding citizens in the middle of the night?”

  “Where is she?” Matt demanded.

  Morrison’s brow wrinkled. “Where is who?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. We found the truck and trailer you’ve used to haul the ATVs around. They’re in your old shoe factory.”

  Morrison blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I rarely go into the old shoe factory. I don’t currently have the funds to start work on the property at this time. Why should I bother to go there?”

  “To hide the truck and trailer used to haul the ATVs around.” Matt glared at the man. “Where are Aubrey and Isabella? I know you’re in this up to your eyeballs. Tell me where they are, and maybe the judge will go easy on you.”