A few locals were shooting pool in a corner. A couple others sat at scarred wooden tables, drinking drafts and talking sports. Gage didn’t know any of them which saved him from having to exchange greetings which was fine with him. He was in no mood to socialize. Just what his mood was, though, he couldn’t say.
He ordered a beer and took the bottle to one of the booths in back. The solid thwack of one billiard ball striking another and sending it spinning into a corner pocket prompted a hoot from the man who’d made the shot. Sweet shot. Gage had to agree.
Gage was a decent pool player, himself. He wondered if Mallory played. He imagined her bending over the table, lining up a shot. Her features pulled taut in concentration. Her eyes narrowed and unblinking in their focus. She would give her all to the game, just as she gave her all to everything she did.
Gage shifted position on the bench and focused on the pool table. The game was over. The men were now engaging in a round of back slapping as they returned their cues. Without the distraction of their game, Gage sought another.
A TV was mounted on the wall above the bar. Tuned to a game show. Though only one of the bar stools was occupied, he remained standing and watched a contestant jump and squeal as the host congratulated her on being the winner. The credits rolled. The show ended.
He’d helped Mallory when she’d needed it. Until she needed it. Now they’d both gone back to living their lives. The End.
As far as endings went, it was a good one. His mind took him back to a sunny summer day at the zoo with the sweet smell of cotton candy in the air and the coppery tang of blood.
He hadn’t died that day but he might as well have. Losing his children had left him dead inside. He’d never let himself look too closely at just why he’d brought his service weapon up to Mitch's cabin.
Now he was back where he belonged and Mallory was where she should be. Yeah, a good ending. Something kicked his heart at that thought. He put the beer to his lips and drank deeply to drown it.
A news program began. The anchor started the run down of the days events. First up was an appeal to the public for information on a woman who’d been abducted. A photo flashed on the screen. Mallory. Gage was off the stool and as close to the TV as he could get before he’d taken his next breath. The anchor identified Mallory in her official capacity as an FBI agent and added that she’d been taken from her home. The report ended with a clip of Mallory’s superior, York, requesting that anyone with information should contact the Bureau. A telephone number scrolled along the bottom of the screen. The report was over almost as soon as it began, but in that brief time Gage’s heart rate soared until he felt it would burst from his chest.
Considine. It had to be Considine. The bastard had her. Images popped into Gage’s mind. Mallory being interrogated. Mallory bleeding and in pain. Mallory dead. Gage felt a tsunami of fear, fear he’d never known for himself. He raced for the exit.
Mallory’s apartment would be his first stop. He needed to see where she’d been taken.
He made good time, but then he hadn’t observed any speed limits, driving pedal to the metal the whole way, pushing the old truck regardless of how she quivered as the speedometer needle swung farther to the right.
At the apartment, he ignored the crime scene tape and went inside. His blood ran cold. The place was trashed. Mallory had not gone without a fight. The thought came to Gage that her abductors had needed to apply significant force to take her out of here.
The image of Mallory hurt returned to him, so strong now that he was actually faced with the reality of it. He wanted to storm Considine’s home like an enraged bull. A desperate thought that wouldn’t help her. He needed to keep his head. Breathing hard, he concentrated on doing just that and to force himself to think like a cop, not a man who . . . cared about her.
The crime scene team had been all over the apartment. Gage didn’t know what he hoped to find. In the end he found nothing but blood. He honed on a patch of blood that had dried on the kitchen floor. He closed his eyes briefly, then turned away from it.
He went to see York next. York was moving about the office like a hurricane. Gage stepped into York’s path, halting him. “Where do things stand with Billy Wilder?” Gage knew it was professional courtesy for a fellow cop that had York considering how to respond to the question rather than blowing Gage off outright.
“Wilder’s dead,” York said. “He died in lock up. I got the report from our people earlier today that he was murdered.”
“Considine?”
“Investigation is ongoing, but he looks good for this.”
A burn started in Gage’s stomach. Considine was cleaning house and Mallory was next. “What about the women?”
“Wilder was our only lead.” York clenched his fists. “We’ve started a canvass of the apartments and of the area. Someone had to have seen something.”
Gage knew the drill. Knew that witness accounts were most often sketchy. Memories were faulty. Precious time could be wasted tracking down false clues. And all the while Mallory was in Considine’s hands. Fear seized Gage again, and for an instant he couldn’t move. He forced himself back from that edge, forced himself to shake off the fear and bring himself back to the moment.
He addressed York again. “Do you have anything else on Considine to bring him in and force him to give up Mallory?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Sir?”
A female agent reached them and addressed York. Gage left them to their conversation.
* * *
Mallory came awake slowly. Her first conscious thought was one of pain. Fighting waves of dizziness and nausea, she clasped her head as if to stop something in there from causing her this hurt. She took a breath. Agony shot through her side, threatening to send her back into the void of unconsciousness.
She closed her eyes and worked on taking shallow breaths. She didn’t know where she was but she recalled the two men who’d broken into her apartment and abducted her.
She smelled mold and somewhere water dripped, striking a surface with a plop that echoed. Her hands and feet were free. If restraints hadn’t been used then that meant her abductors were secure in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to get away.
She opened her eyes again slowly against another level of pain. It was black as night and cold. Clutching her side, she raised herself from the floor, and braced herself against a wall at her back. The room spun. No doubt she was concussed. As she held her head in her hands she thought a concussion would be the least of her worries.
She heard squeaking. A rodent of some kind was in this space with her. Mallory shivered and huddled into herself at the thought of rats.
She squinted in the darkness and as her eyes adjusted, she made out small details. A large tank of some kind butted up against a wall. A staircase lay beyond that. And in the darkness beyond the stairs something moved. Something too big to be a mouse. Mallory swallowed a scream. She wasn’t in here alone. Something else was in here with her.
* * *
Gage left the FBI building. Mitch’s truck was struggling. Gage didn’t want to risk breaking down. He went back to the car rental agency, got an SUV, and left the old truck parked on the long-term lot next door. At a local electronics chain, he bought a cell phone and a laptop then checked into a hotel.
He didn’t have the envelope he and Mallory had found in Wilder’s locker. Either York or Considine had it now. But Gage and Mallory had been on the internet sites listed enough times for him to recall them. He logged onto where Mallory had posted profiles. If he could find the guy who was trolling these sites, he’d have a link to the traffickers. He went to all the sites. No one had made contact.
Billy Wilder was the only link they’d had to the traffickers and his death had effectively severed that link. He needed to find another one.
He logged onto the Washington PD data base. Two hours later, he’d gone over all the data gathered on Paul Considine. The man was scum and had ties to organi
zed crime, but there was nothing to connect Considine with Billy Wilder.
Fuck. He was missing something.
Mallory’s abductors had been instructed to take her to a mountain cabin when the accident occurred and she landed on Gage’s doorstep. Billy Wilder’s cabin, specifically. Could they be holding her there now?
The location to the cabin had been among the personal papers they’d found in Wilder’s locker. Gage knew where the place was. He grabbed his coat and keys and charged out of the hotel room, praying that when he reached the cabin, he would find her and, find her alive.
He abandoned the vehicle a distance from the cabin and crept over the snow covered landscape. It was still afternoon and he kept to the trees and out of the sunlight where he would be exposed to anyone who happened to glance out of Billy’s windows.
The cabin was small. No vehicles were parked in the vicinity. No smoke rose from the chimney. No foot prints in the snow led to the cabin’s front door.
The place appeared unoccupied. Still, he moved closer. He wouldn’t turn around until he’d made sure that Mallory wasn’t being held inside.
He went around the back and found another entrance. Standing beneath an overhang, he used his flashlight to smash a window in that door, then went inside. Moving carefully, he blended into the shadows, making his way through each room of the cabin. It was as cold as a freezer, reinforcing Gage’s impression that there wasn’t anyone there. He finished searching the place. Mallory wasn’t there.
* * *
Mallory fought back dizziness and got to her feet. She had to know what was in here with her. She braced to fight should she need to defend herself, the effort pathetic. But as she drew closer, she realized it was a person. A woman. No, not one woman, several women. Her breath caught. Twelve women.
Her pulse raced as she limped to them. As one, they shrank back. One whimpered. Another wrapped her arms around her knees and made a low, keening sound. Their fear was palpable and Mallory’s heart broke.
“Please don’t be afraid of me.” It hurt to talk and she was thirsty. Her voice cracked. She needed to do better than that if she was going to reassure them. She swallowed a couple of times. “My name is Mallory Burke. I’m a federal agent. I’ve been looking for you.”
“You’ve been looking for us?”
The voice that came out of the darkness was weak and thin. Concern for the woman had Mallory increasing her pace as much as she was able. “Yes and I’m going to get all of you out of here, I promise you.”
“But how? You’re caught too.”
“I will find a way. Please trust me.”
The sound of footfalls drawing nearer drew her attention away from the women. The steps stopped at the top of the stairs. Someone was out there. An instant later the door swung wide.
A light appeared at the top of the stairs and a hulking figure filled the doorway. He stood in silhouette for an instant, back lit by a bare bulb in the ceiling, then a flashlight winked on and he began his descent. Some light filtered down and showed they were in a cellar. Mallory recognized the man on the stairs as the big brute from her apartment and felt a rush of anger. Automatic weapons were strapped to his chest. He held a tray laden with sandwiches and bottles of water. Mallory’s stomach was roiling like a storm tossed sea from the pain in her head and from fear. She didn’t think she’d keep food down, but she curled her fingers into her palm to keep from showing him how badly she wanted the water.
Big Brute reached Mallory and the other women. They huddled together trying to make themselves as small as possible. Again, Mallory assumed a fighting stance, drawing on her badly depleted physical resources, and placed herself between them and him.
He aimed the light in her eyes. She raised a hand to deflect the piercing glare and he laughed.
“How do you like your digs?” he said.
“Where is this place?”
“You don’t need to be worrying about that.”
“How long have I been here?”
“You’re just full of questions aren’t you? I might be willing to answer some of them for you.” He stroked his chin as he looked her up and down. “What’s it worth to you?”
Mallory tasted bile.
Another man appeared at the steps. The other man who’d helped Big Brute abduct her. Automatic weapons were strapped to his chest as well and she got the sinking sensation that these men were mercenaries.
“Hey, quit jabbering,” Big Brute’s partner said. “Give them the food then get back here. I need your help up here.”
Big Brute plopped the tray onto the concrete floor. He leered at Mallory. “Later, when it’s just you here, I’ll be back.”
“Just me?”
“These girls are going on a long boat ride in the morning. Hear that, girls. You’re getting picked up from here in just about ten hours.” He leaned toward Mallory and whispered, “Like I said, later.”
A couple of the women were sobbing now. Mallory had promised to get them all out of here but how was she going to do that? She had no plan. And only until morning to come up with one.
* * *
Gage returned to the hotel after leaving Billy’s cabin. He logged onto the dating sites again. He found nothing and his desperation mounted. He called York for an update on the search. York had nothing new to add. Gage longed for ten minutes alone with Considine.
Gage checked his watch. Again. Three minutes since the last time he’d looked. Twelve minutes since he’d checked the dating sites. The window in his hotel room overlooked a busy street. It was only six p.m. but dark due to the season and the streetlights glowed. People in coats with thick wool scarves wrapped around their faces hurried down the sidewalks, likely on their way home to dinner.
Gage didn’t want to think of Mallory hurt and afraid, but he could think of nothing else. He clutched the window sill and leaned his brow against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, riding out a fear for her that threatened to derail him.
He straightened away from the window for another check of the sites. Someone had left a response.
He scanned the message. The guy signed the email as “Neil”. The tone of the note was light and friendly. Gage’s heart raced. He recalled Kyle from the park. Could be nothing more than that—some pimply kid wanting a hook up. But even as he thought that, he was considering how to respond. He sent back a reply. Whoever had gotten in touch was online because a message appeared almost at once.
The exchange of emails went on for some time. Gage held himself in check, barely. He could not blow this. It may be his only lead to getting Mallory back.
At last, he received the message he’d been waiting for—a request to meet. He sat tense waiting for the location. It came in the form of an invitation to a house party at nine o’clock that evening. He replied with a yes, and an address was provided.
As he and Mallory had done with the meeting in the park, Gage arrived at the destination early. He parked one block away from the street, then hoofed it to the house.
The address belonged to a tidy bungalow that had been built around the time of the second world war. The house looked well maintained with a pink tricycle on a small porch. Could be camouflage but it gave him pause. Regardless, he pressed on, praying this wasn’t another dead end.
He took up a position across the road from the house and away from the streetlights. There’d been no activity since he’d moved into this position. No guests arrived. No one left the house.
It was time for a closer look. He crossed the street to the bungalow, listened for barking. Nothing. No dog then.
He scaled the fence around the property then circled the building, peering into the side and back windows. All were blocked with blinds until he came to a small window in the kitchen door. No loud music penetrated to the outside that would suggest a party was underway. He peered through the glass. No one was in the kitchen or in the portion of the hall he was able to see. But on the table were restraints and a syringe.
As he had at
Billy’s cabin, he used his flashlight and broke the window. Moving quickly in case anyone had heard the glass break, he let himself into the house. Footsteps padded on the stairs. A man came up from the basement. Thirty something with a diamond stud in one ear lobe and an Italian suit over his tall, toned frame.
Gage grabbed him by the neck.
The guy cried out. “What the fuck!”
“Are you Neil?”
“Yeah! Yeah!”
Gage slammed Neil into a wall. Blood spurted from Neil’s now broken nose and flowed from his split lips. A photograph of a boat hung on that same wall. The picture shook then struck the floor, shattering the glass frame.
Gage kept Neil’s face squashed against the plaster and stuck the barrel of the gun into his ear.
“Man, you don’t know who you’re messing with.” Neil was lisping. He’d broken a tooth when his face hit the wall. “Hope you said your prayers last night. Cause you’re about to meet your maker.”
“That so?” Gage ground the gun into Neil’s ear and received the satisfaction of hearing him shriek.
Panting from the pain, Neil yelled, “You are going to pray for death before I’m through with you!”
“Big talk. I’m not some young girl you can put a scare into.”
Neil went still.
Gage sneered. “Yeah. You’re finally getting it. I’m here about your invite to a house party here tonight.”
“Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I have your emails setting this whole thing up, man. You’re going down for this.”
Damp circles appeared on Neil’s fine suit and Gage smelled the rank odor of perspiration.
“I wasn’t gonna do nothing to that chick tonight,” Neil said.
“I saw the restraints and the syringe.”
“How much you want? I got money. Name your price.” Neil’s words came out in a rush.
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