by T. R. Ragan
“I don’t like it,” he said.
“I don’t like it, either, but it’s the way it has to be. If we call the FBI, Aster Williams and every other man involved will scatter, and you know it.”
“Are you saying the FBI is corrupt?”
“I’m saying I don’t trust anyone. Somebody has Lara.” She rubbed her temple, her frustration palpable. “The moment these guys find out about the list of names Richard Price left behind, our chances of ever seeing her again will grow slimmer. If we handle this right, we can trap them while they’re all together in one building. Once we have Lara, we’ll call the cops and the FBI and anybody else you can think of. But not a minute before.”
“You said you had help. Who?”
“The therapist you met the other day. Kirsten Reich. She and a group of women have been keeping an eye on some of these guys for quite a while. These women come from all walks of life. They’ve been trained. Many of them are fighters. They’re the reason for many of the arrests being made.”
“And they’ve agreed to join you when this meeting takes place?”
“I only learned about the meeting last night. I’ll be talking to Kirsten soon. I’m certain they will want to help. If everything goes as planned, nobody will get hurt.”
“I want to help,” Dad said.
Her shoulders fell. “The truth is I was hoping you would stay out of this one. You’ve done enough, Dad. Mom needs you here. Hudson needs you, too. He needs stability. He needs one of us, and you know as well as I do it can’t be me right now.”
Dad looked over his shoulder to make sure Mom wasn’t within earshot. “I know you want what’s best for everyone and that you think it’s your decision to make. But you’re wrong. That isn’t how things work around here. I’m not ready to sit back and watch things unfold, and neither is your mother. We’re family, and families stick together. Go eat and take your shower. I’m going to give Colton a call.”
Faith took a quick shower, grabbed a bite to eat, and then, with the help of her dad, she snuck out of the house. Beast, Rage, and Little Vinnie were waiting for her in one of her brother’s utility vans.
Twenty-five minutes later, they parked on the side of a private road in Folsom, where they had a decent view of a mansion sitting at the top of a hill overlooking Folsom Lake.
It was still early. The sky was gray, and the air was brisk.
Rage used a comb to brush gel into Little Vinnie’s silver hair until it was slicked back away from his face.
Rage smiled at the older man and said, “Ready, Jim?”
Little Vinnie grinned, too.
Faith was pretty sure there wasn’t anything Little Vinnie or Beast wouldn’t do for Rage. She had them both wrapped around her finger.
Aster Williams, driving a Mercedes, had left the property a few minutes ago. He’d been alone. From what little she’d seen, he looked like his picture online. He wore a suit; his dark, silver-tipped hair had been slicked back much like Little Vinnie’s was now.
Faith could see the worry in Beast’s face as he watched his dad and Rage, dressed in the uniforms Rage had purchased, climb out of the van. They lost sight of the two of them a few feet before they reached the front door.
“This is a crazy idea,” Beast said. “We have absolutely no idea if the place is crawling with security. His house could be surrounded by bigger men than me, men with guns.”
The panic in his voice prompted Faith to reach out and squeeze his arm. She wanted to tell him everything would be OK, but she didn’t because she was worried, too, even having second thoughts. She thought about Mark Silos and how she’d regretted being reckless. Any of them could have been killed that night.
“At the very least they should be wired. This,” Beast said with a wave of his hand, “is a suicide mission. We can’t hear a thing. We have no idea what the hell’s going on.”
Faith never should have let Rage talk her out of being the one to knock on the door. Rage had been afraid Aster’s wife might recognize Faith from all the media attention she’d received. Faith looked at Beast. She wasn’t sure what to do or say to calm him. “Do you want me to go knock on the door, tell whoever is inside that Jim has a call, an emergency?”
“No. We’ll wait. Stick with the plan.”
Despite the frigid air, Rage could see a light sheen of sweat on Little Vinnie’s brow as they approached the front entrance. Suddenly she felt sort of bad about coming up with such a crazy, harebrained idea. Sure, she might have nothing to lose, but what about the rest of them? Faith’s son was home. He needed her. And Beast would never be able to live with himself if something happened to Little Vinnie. She was about to tell Little Vinnie she’d changed her mind about the whole thing and wanted to leave when the door opened. The woman standing before them was tall and elegant. Her nails were painted a light pink to match her lipstick. She looked as though she’d stepped out of one of those popular glossy magazines. “Can I help you?”
Rage had a speech prepared, but her mind went blank.
Thankfully, Little Vinnie took over. Not only did he appear confident; he was convincing. He’d obviously done his homework because he said his spiel with little effort, telling Aster’s wife all about the problem with the gas lines. He went on and on, and Rage simply followed along without a word spoken. Next thing she knew, they were walking through the house.
Aster’s wife’s name was Rae. The woman seemed more worried about the idea of her house blowing up than letting strangers in.
While Little Vinnie kept Rae occupied, Rage walked deeper into the house, down long hallways with ceilings so high she had to crook her neck to see them. Still within earshot, she heard Rae tell Little Vinnie that she was going to call her husband.
Rage’s stomach dropped as she stepped up her pace. If Aster returned, it was over. She examined every room as she went along. A laundry room bigger than her bedroom. A sewing room, which appeared to be used solely for wrapping gifts, shelves lined with every color of ribbon imaginable. Nothing here. Time to move on.
She peeked inside every closet and built-in cupboard along the way, keeping quiet but working fast. The house was as big as any hotel she’d ever seen. Every time she opened or closed a door, the sound echoed off the walls.
She felt as if she were making her way through a maze and wondered if she’d ever find her way back to the front entry. The floors were a light-colored stone, and the cream-colored walls were adorned with paintings framed in gold, every picture lit up by its own personal light fixture. The next room she walked into was the largest yet. A library lined with rich mahogany shelving that gleamed wherever the light coming through the high windows hit. There were so many books. And so little time. No reason to linger.
Back in the hallway, she made a left and spotted a grandfather clock at the very end of the corridor. She could go right or left. Both hallways led to a closed door. She went to the right. As her fingers nestled around the knob, she flinched when the clock chimed. Her insides flip-flopped as she wondered how Little Vinnie was handling Aster’s wife. Had he been able to find a way to stop her from calling her husband?
If Aster was coming, Rage figured she had five minutes, maybe six. Tops.
The room she found herself in was large and majestic, with a wood-beamed ceiling. This had to be Aster’s office. A rich cherrywood desk and cabinets, floor-to-ceiling windows showing off views of the pool and the glistening lake beyond.
Rage moved in front of the leather desk chair and attempted to open the drawers, but they were all locked. She reached beneath the middle of the desk, her fingers brushing over the smooth wood, where she found a key on a small hook. She used the key to try to unlock the drawers, but it was too small. Frustrated, she looked around the room, her gaze settling on a screen where she could see images of the entire house.
Her heart raced with excitement as she headed that way.
It appeared he’d installed a camera in nearly every room. Rage played with the buttons, sweeping th
rough images of the library and kitchen and finally the bedrooms upstairs. Her heart sank when she realized there was no sign of life anywhere. She’d gotten her hopes up. The thought of telling Faith she’d wasted their time weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Her legs wobbled, forcing her to hang on to the shelving for support.
She’d been growing weaker by the day but had been doing everything she could to hide her quickly deteriorating health from Beast and Little Vinnie. Sometimes, like now, she felt disoriented. Her stomach turned, and her head throbbed.
Her time was running out.
Most times she talked tough in hopes of appearing stronger than she felt. But she knew she was dying. Sooner rather than later. That was her truth, and all the wishing and hoping in the world wouldn’t stop it from happening.
The idea of leaving this world without being able to see Faith reunited with both of her children left a gaping hole inside her. Why she cared so damn much, she wasn’t sure. She liked Faith, and for some reason that surprised her. They came from two different worlds.
Seeing Faith get the best of Aster Williams and his gang wasn’t the only reason she wanted to hang on. It was something else altogether. She’d made too many bad choices in her lifetime, but using her time and energy to help Faith find her little girl was meaningful and made Rage feel useful. Helping Faith find her daughter was the right thing to do; it gave Rage purpose. And even though it was a good choice, Rage realized it was also a selfish one.
As the pain in her head subsided, she straightened and looked away from the images on the screen. Half-hidden behind a row of books and framed pictures of family, she spotted a keyhole to a safe that blended in with the wood shelving. Unwilling to get overly excited this time, she moved two picture frames to the side, slid the key into the slot, and turned.
Voilà!
The twelve-by-twelve-inch door opened.
Inside the safe were stacks of hundred-dollar bills, a few coins, a Luminor Submersible 1950, and a Smith & Wesson 9mm.
She heard voices. They were coming this way.
She shut the safe, locked it, then rushed back to the desk and quickly returned the key to its hook. Her gaze fell on a notepad, where she could still see the indents from a note written on the previous piece of paper. Using the oldest trick in the book, she grabbed a pencil and slid the lead tip back and forth across the indentations until the note appeared: “1354 Stone River Drive, Elverta” The voices grew louder. She was out of time. Her pulse raced as she tore the page from the notepad and slid it into her pants pocket. Then she ran to the door, escaping the room just as Little Vinnie and Rae appeared from around the other corner.
“Please don’t go in there,” Rae called out.
Rage lifted both hands, making it look as if she had yet to open the door.
“Found anything so far?” Little Vinnie asked.
“Everything has checked out. The place is clean. How about on your end?”
“It’s all good. Her husband’s on his way to check out the rest of the house.”
“OK,” Rage said. “Why don’t we wait outside until he arrives?”
Rage led the way. She kept up a good pace, and yet she didn’t want to appear as if she was in a rush to escape. She pulled out the phone, pretended to key in a telephone number, and then held it to her ear. “Number five-oh-seven-six checking in,” she said. “Yes, everything’s clear . . . Got it. We’re on our way.”
As soon as she stepped outside, she inhaled. Turning toward Rae and Little Vinnie, she said, “Looks like we have another emergency across town. We’ve got to go.”
Little Vinnie handed Rae a business card and told her to have her husband call if he had any questions or concerns. Then he shook her hand and followed Rage down the stone walkway, across the driveway, and to the other side of the street, where the van was parked.
Rage jumped into the back and slid onto the seat next to Faith.
Little Vinnie climbed into the front and sat on the passenger side next to Beast. “No time to explain,” he said. “Aster is on his way home. We need to—there he is now.”
Beast turned on the engine. As soon as Aster drove past them, he headed slowly down the road. The moment they were through the gate leading to the property, he sped away.
TWELVE
Beast, Rage, and Little Vinnie had been home for about an hour when Beast knocked on Rage’s bedroom door before entering. On the drive home, he’d noticed how pale she looked when he glanced in the rearview mirror. He didn’t like seeing the dark circles under her eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“The same thing I’ve been doing every time I get a free moment . . . looking for the mysterious Patrick everyone seems to be talking about.”
“Patrick?” Beast asked as he walked to the side of the bed and took a peek at her laptop screen.
“Yep. You were standing right next to me when Faith first mentioned his name. Sometimes I don’t think you listen very well.”
Beast scratched his chin, knowing she was probably right.
“When Faith and Miranda were in San Francisco, they talked to a woman who worked in the spa, a woman Miranda recognized. When Faith questioned her, asking for names that might lead to Lara’s whereabouts, the woman mentioned the name Patrick.” Rage’s finger clacked against the keys as she worked.
He remembered now. Faith had mentioned the name on the same night Faith’s mom had been attacked. A lot had been going on at the time, and he vaguely recalled thinking there wasn’t much he could do without more information. “So what do you have there? Every Patrick living in the United States?”
“Pretty much,” she said with a laugh. “The first thing I did was use social media and a telephone book to start gathering a list of people with the same name. I think it’s safe to say I’ve written down every Patrick I could find who lives within a fifty-mile radius of the California state capitol.”
Beast inwardly winced.
“I know it’s a wild-goose chase and there’s not much to go on, but it keeps my mind off the whole dying thing, so it’s a win-win.”
He hated when she talked that way, but he also knew it was her way of fighting the emotions that surely came with knowing you didn’t have much time left. She used humor and sarcasm to fight depression and despair. “If this Patrick was or is involved in trafficking,” Beast said, “why wouldn’t he be on Richard Price’s list of names?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve looked over Price’s list so many times I have every name on the list memorized.” She smirked. “I’m exaggerating, of course, since my brain isn’t what it used to be.”
“OK,” he said. “Enough with the jokes.”
“Anyhow,” she went on, “there’s nobody in Richard Price’s binder named Patrick. But,” she added, lifting a finger for emphasis, “there are fifteen guys on the list who are still unaccounted for.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why would Richard Price take the time to make note of people who didn’t exist?”
“It’s been my experience in the bounty-hunting business,” Beast told her, “that some people are simply better than others at keeping their information private. It has nothing to do with Richard Price. Maybe Richard Price’s list was outdated by the time he sent it to his sister.” He scratched his ear. “It could be any number of things.”
“Well, what would you say if I told you Patrick is a white man, about thirty-five years old with dark hair, who drives a black BMW? Would that be enough information to track him down?”
“No.”
“You’re such a buzzkill.”
He didn’t like seeing her look so frail. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do to make her more comfortable, but she hated when he pitied her. She’d told him and Little Vinnie from the start that she didn’t want to be babied in any way. “You’ve been working on this for how long?” he asked.
“Obviously not long enough. But I’ve crossed off anyone on the list who is under twenty-five and older than
forty-five, which eliminated fifty Patricks.”
She was putting everything into this search for Patrick. Since it would be cruel to make fun or tell her she was wasting her time, he decided to go along with the whole thing, even went so far as to feign an interest in her investigation. He and Little Vinnie looked for people for a living. Looking for a man named Patrick, a man with no last name, no date of birth, and no social security number was like looking for a needle in a haystack. “So how many Patricks do you have left?”
“Why don’t you pull up a chair and help me?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, come on. It’s sort of fun.”
“Fun is overrated.”
Rage rolled her eyes. “I’ve got thirty-two Patricks left.”
He cracked his knuckles and then shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“No. Tell me. What?” She put her laptop to the side. “You never come in here to talk to me. You came in here for a reason. What is it?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing. That’s all.”
She smiled one of her half smiles that made a slight dimple appear and said, “I’m good. Thank you very much.”
He didn’t believe her. “Nothing hurts?”
“Just my head,” she told him. “It sort of feels like there are a large group of mountain climbers inside using pickaxes to climb my skull. But other than that, I’m good.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
“Just say it, Beast.”
He said nothing.
“You love me, and you’re going to miss me.”
His bottom lip twitched, but no words came forth.