Wrath (Faith McMann Trilogy Book 3)

by T. R. Ragan

  “Grandma!” Hudson ran out of the house and into his grandma’s arms.

  Faith watched the reunion between her mother and her son. Seeing the joy on both their faces tugged at her heart. The two had always been close, and they held on to each other as if they’d never let go. Mom’s eyes were squeezed tight.

  In an unexpected rush of activity, another reporter showed up with a cameraman and assistant in tow. Faith could hardly believe how quickly the scene turned from joy to chaos. Everyone was talking at once, more than one journalist shouting questions at Hudson in rapid succession.

  Someone rushed past Faith and knocked her forward. Unable to catch her balance, she fell to the ground, her knees scraping against pavement. Mom’s bag dropped from her grasp. A pen, lipstick, and other assorted items rolled around on the ground. “Get into the house,” Faith told Hudson. “Now!”

  One of the reporters helped her from the ground. Another quickly gathered her mom’s belongings.

  Red-hot anger flashed through Faith’s body, heating her face. Her heart raced as the original reporter, the same asshole who’d been throwing questions at her since she walked outside, continued on, unfazed by her being pushed to the ground.

  “Mark Silos is said to have been part of the human-trafficking epidemic in the area,” he said as if she might not have heard the first time. “Anything you’d like to say about his death?”

  Faith thanked the woman who helped her to her feet as she brushed dirt from her jeans. Lifting her chin, she set her steely gaze on the man. It took some effort not to tell him to get off their property before she called the police. She glanced at her dad, who was standing near the door, waiting. Don’t say anything you might regret; that’s what he was trying to tell her with one look.

  As much as they all hated having cameras and microphones shoved in front of their faces 24-7, they needed the media. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she said, “There is something I’d like to say.”

  The reporter gestured toward the cameraman, who quickly hoisted the heavy camera onto his shoulder. A tiny red light came on.

  “On a beautiful Friday afternoon in November, my family was attacked by a group of people who have no regard for mankind. Traffickers like Mark Silos need to be stopped. Human trafficking,” Faith said, her voice even, “is horrifying and morally unacceptable. Traffickers prey on the vulnerable and the defenseless. Many of their victims have suffered domestic violence before they find themselves recruited by traffickers, who make false promises for a better life. These victims include runaways, homeless youths, and teenagers hanging out with their friends at malls. No one is immune. Young girls are being sold into prostitution; young boys are forced into long days of labor. Men, women, and children of all ages are abused and enslaved right here in the United States. It’s time we take a stand and work together to put a stop to this atrocity. Not a year or a month from now, but today. It must stop now. Thank you.” Before the reporter could say anything else, she turned and walked into the house, shutting the door behind her.

  Later that night, Faith peeked through the window to take a look outside. There he was. The FBI agent had returned and was parked in the driveway, the light from his cell phone washing over the bottom half of his face. She left the window and headed for her bedroom upstairs, where she quickly began gathering her things piled on top of the bed.

  Dressed in dark jeans, dark shoes, and a dark wool coat, she made sure the Taser was charged before shoving it inside her coat pocket. Next came the canister of pepper spray and finally the 9mm she was getting all too used to carrying.

  In the hallway she stopped to listen, making sure everyone was fast asleep. The wood floor creaked in a couple of spots as she made her way down the stairs and across the kitchen floor. She stepped outside into the cool air, locked the back door, and headed off.

  Beast was waiting for her near the small building that used to be her dad’s workshop but was now known as the command post. “There’s no reason for you to stand out here in the dark,” Faith said. “I’m fully armed, and I can see your truck from here.”

  He merely grunted, a familiar sound she knew meant he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying, and he would continue to do things his way. As they trudged along through trees and past thick brush, she saw that the truck was empty. “Where are Rage and Little Vinnie?”

  “Rage isn’t feeling well.”

  “How bad?”

  “Never good.”

  Over the weeks Faith had done some research about Rage’s diagnosis, stage four astrocytoma. Rage had refused treatment, which meant less time on this earth, but also less time sitting in bed suffering long bouts of nausea, headaches, and bloating that would ultimately have the same results. When the time came, she assured Beast and Little Vinnie, she would use nurses to help her with pain, nausea, and breathlessness.

  It wasn’t until they were driving down the main road toward Mesa Verde High School in Citrus Heights that Beast asked, “How’s your boy doing?”

  “He keeps to himself mostly.”

  “Understandable since he’s only been home for a couple of days. You’ll need to be patient. Let him know you’re there for him when he’s ready to talk.”

  “Good advice,” she said. “And I know I shouldn’t stick my nose in your business, but don’t you think it’s time to have a heart-to-heart with Rage?”

  “About what?”

  “About life and death. About what she means to you and how much you’ll miss her when she’s gone.”

  “She knows I care about her.”

  “Yes, I suppose she does, but it’s always nice to hear.”

  “Have you talked to her about these things?” he asked.

  “A little. She thinks you’re holding back. She’s worried about you.”

  “She’s worried about me?” He shook his head in wonder.

  “I think she’s afraid.”

  “Of dying?”

  “No,” Faith said. “She’s accepted the inevitable, and she’s doing her best to seize every moment left on this earth. But I think she’s afraid of leaving you behind. Afraid of what might happen to you when she’s gone.” Faith thought of Craig, wishing she could have told him how much she loved him before he died.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “Will you?”

  He didn’t answer, and the silence weighed heavily on her shoulders, causing her to wonder if this was how Rage felt when she was confined in a small space with a man like Beast, who could not be cracked.

  Not another word was spoken until they arrived at the high school and Beast pulled up next to a long row of cars. “Looks like your therapist wasn’t kidding about having friends who want to help,” he said.

  “Kirsten mentioned the first time we met that she and some friends had formed a group. It all sounded a bit mysterious, like some sort of neighborhood watch gang but more hard core.”

  “So you really have no idea what we’re walking into here?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Beast shut off the engine.

  “I don’t know if Detective Yuhasz has had much time to look at the information I gave him,” Faith said before either one of them made a move to leave the truck. “Once the detective knows what he has in his possession, I don’t think he’ll be able to hold off very long before handing it all over to the FBI.”

  “I figured that’s why we’ve bothered coming here tonight. We need help getting through these names before the suits get involved.”

  Faith nodded her agreement. “Once that happens, we won’t be able to get anywhere near those people.” She looked at Beast. “I can’t bear the thought of having to sit at home all day waiting for updates.”

  “It’s not going to come down to that,” Beast said. “We’re doing the right thing by coming here tonight and getting help. It would be almost impossible for those sleazeballs to move Lara out of the country without someone recognizing her. The faster we can check out the names on t
his list, the faster we can bring Lara home.”

  A shiver coursed through Faith, causing the tiny hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end. The idea of any one of those men keeping Lara locked away made her crazy. And if they ever found out that Richard Price’s list of names was in Faith’s possession, Lara would be in more danger than ever. The risk of keeping her alive or trying to smuggle her out of the country would be too great.

  Faith reached for the door handle and jumped down from the seat of the truck. If Kirsten Reich and her friends wanted to help her find Lara, who was she to turn them down?

  The night was dark and starless, the air crisp and cool. Icy fingertips skittered up her arms as she followed Beast toward the main building.

  “Are you planning on handing over the entire list?” he asked her before they reached the building.

  “Not every name. I don’t know Kirsten very well, and I have no idea what to expect tonight.” She patted her bag. “I left Aster and the men directly under him off the list I plan to give them, since we’ve already discussed saving those scumbags for us.”

  “Rage mentioned having an idea of how we might get into Aster Williams’s house to have a look around.”

  “Great,” Faith said. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow when we meet.”

  He nodded.

  Beast opened the double doors leading into the gym.

  Faith stepped inside. There had to be close to fifty people sitting in row after row of folding chairs facing a small stage. For the first time since the attack on her family, she thought about her life as a teacher. She used to feel such pride walking into her classroom. The kids saying “Good morning, Mrs. McMann” never failed to make her heart grow a little bigger. She always liked to start the day feeling as if she was making a difference in children’s lives.

  “This could be interesting,” Beast said as he followed her inside.

  Kirsten Reich made her way from the front of the crowd to the back. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Rage couldn’t come,” Faith told her. “She’s not feeling well.”

  Kirsten stopped in the middle of the aisle. “I’m sorry.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Beast said.

  Kirsten nudged them toward the front of the room. “If it’s all right with you two, we’ll take the empty seats in front and face the group. Since I like to keep things moving along, I’ll make introductions, and then we’ll discuss our plans to help find Lara.”

  “Sounds good,” Faith said.

  Kirsten didn’t waste any time. The second Faith and Beast were seated, she turned toward the audience and said, “My name is Kirsten Reich.” She waited a few seconds while the murmuring and private talks came to a hush. “For those who have not met me, I’m a therapist and counselor and one of the founders of CAW, Crimes Against Women. I’m going to introduce you to a few of our founders and our special guests, and then we’ll move right along since I know many of you came here tonight on short notice and have families to get back to.” Kirsten gestured toward a woman sitting in the front row.

  The woman wore a brace around her left leg and used a cane to push herself from her seat.

  “This is Lyssa Falcao. Her résumé is long, but she’s best known for her work with Lawyers Against Human Trafficking. She works tirelessly to bring awareness by hosting events and panel discussions all over the US.

  “Next to Lyssa we have Caralea Batts, our newest CAW member. Caralea works closely with antitrafficking advocates in Sacramento County. She makes her way around the country teaching teens and their parents how to be safe on social media. You may be surprised to know that seven out of ten kids post their name, age, and town where they live, making them easy targets for online predators.”

  Kirsten waited for the murmurs to subside. “We’re glad to have Victoria Mitchell in attendance tonight. She’s a women’s bantamweight titleholder, a jujitsu blue belt, and a kung fu purple belt. When she’s not at the gym, Victoria can often be found with a camera in hand, all in the name of bringing awareness to our various causes.”

  Kirsten turned toward Faith and Beast. “The gentleman sitting here next to me is known as Beast, bounty hunter and friend of Faith McMann, the subject of many recent late-night meetings.”

  More murmurs from the audience.

  “As most of you know, with the help of friends and family,” Kirsten continued, “Faith has managed to successfully track down one of her two missing children.”

  People cheered and clapped.

  Faith was impressed by the turnout and by the résumés of the women already mentioned. She had no clue groups like this existed. There was a certain kind of energy in the room, energy filled with hope and excitement, the kind that bounced off walls and made people pay attention.

  After the room quieted, Kirsten went on. “Faith’s daughter, Lara, is still missing. I think it’s safe to say, based on what we’ve read in the papers and seen on the news, that Faith won’t slow down until her daughter is home where she belongs.

  “Thanks to Faith’s vigilance, these traffickers are being exposed, one at a time. They broke into Faith’s parents’ home and attacked her mother. They’re feeling the heat, and they’re only going to get bolder.” Kirsten paused before adding, “What Faith needs now are reinforcements. We need to find Lara before they have a chance to regroup. That’s why we need to move swiftly. As of tonight, all CAW members will be added to a shared app on our cell phones. Let me know if you don’t want to be added. Over the months, thanks to many of you, we’ve compiled a list of twenty-five names of some of the worst offenders in and about Sacramento.”

  More applause.

  “I feel for Faith,” a woman in the back row said, “but human trafficking is a widespread problem. So why focus on finding one child?”

  “Because finding Lara could be the blow that takes the wind out of these traffickers’ sails. Finding Lara would inspire everyday citizens to get involved. Of course, there is no perfect solution to this ever-growing problem. The only answer up until now has been to stop one john or pimp at a time. But if we join together, imagine what we can accomplish. Right now, because of Hudson’s return, the media is in a frenzy. They want more, and I believe we should give them what they want.”

  Everyone began to talk at once.

  Faith reached into her bag, pulled out the names and addresses she’d brought, and quickly explained what she knew as she handed the list to Kirsten, who then passed the names on to her friends in the front row. They talked among themselves as Kirsten said to Faith in a low voice, “There has to be close to a hundred names here. That’s a lot of information you gathered in a very short time. Do you want to share where you got your information from?”

  “I can only assure you my resources are legit.”

  “Looks like we have our work cut out for us,” Kirsten said. The room had grown quiet again, so she turned to face the audience. “Our main objective is to locate the people on these lists and watch them closely, track them when possible, see if anyone might lead us to Lara’s whereabouts.”

  “I don’t know how your group does business,” Beast said, “but I don’t think it would be in your best interest to approach any of these people directly. They’re dangerous and should be watched from afar.”

  “We’ve got the basics covered,” Kirsten said. “This isn’t our first hurrah.”

  But Beast was a protector, Faith thought. It’s what he did. It’s who he was.

  “I suggest anyone doing surveillance do it in pairs,” Beast said.

  “Every member of CAW has had basic training,” Kirsten assured him. “They carry a weapon at all times and are well protected. Mo Heedles sitting in the second row there was trained by her two brothers, both SEALs, Special Forces.” Kirsten gestured toward another woman. “Eva Malone, middle row, spent a decade with the US Marine Corps. In the back we have Shannon Trickett, champion in women’s combat sports.”

  “Point taken,” Beast said.

 
With every passing moment, Faith felt sure she’d done the right thing by coming tonight. Knowing that these women might be able to help her get through a long list, knowing that every time they could cross someone off that list, they would possibly be one name closer to finding her daughter, made her sit up a little taller and caused her heart to beat a little louder.

  “If you learn anything at all that you think might help us locate Faith’s daughter,” Kirsten went on, “let us know ASAP.”

  Faith nodded her agreement, thankful to have their support.

  Victoria was the next to speak. “I know there are some of you who might wonder why we don’t simply hand these names over to the police.” She paused. “Unfortunately the police don’t have the resources to go door-to-door, let alone keep an eye on every person we believe is up to no good. Without solid proof there’s not a whole lot they can do. But if you believe someone you’ve been watching is dangerous or has anything to do with victimizing young children, do not hesitate to call the police.”

  “That’s it,” Kirsten said. “I’m going to give Faith the floor, and then this meeting will be adjourned.”

  Faith got to her feet, unsure of what to say to these people. “In the beginning,” she began, “after recovering from my injuries, I didn’t want anyone’s help. But then my family got involved, and Beast and Rage approached me, and I realized that sometimes it really does take a village, a community, maybe an entire city, to get results.” She swallowed. Exhaustion was setting in, her emotions getting the best of her as she thought about all the people who had gone out of their way to help her. “Without help from so many, I never would have found my son. We came close to finding Lara, too, but our group was small and we could only do so much.” She paused to think. “What I’m trying to say is thank you for being here tonight. There are no words to express the gratitude I feel at this moment. Thank you.”

  “One house at a time,” Kirsten added. “One criminal at a time until we find Lara. That’s our goal.” She raised her hands to let them know she wasn’t finished. “Many of you in this room have been working tirelessly for years to fight against human trafficking. This is our chance to use our resources to help Faith find her daughter and use the media attention to our advantage. Thank you for coming. Meeting adjourned.”