by Rita Herron
“A van, black,” Tray said. “The windows were tinted.”
“What about the license plate?” Julie asked. “Do you remember the number? Was it a Texas tag?”
Tray’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “I don’t know,” he said. “He changed it before we went out. I think he took tags off a junkyard.”
Hope jolted through Julie. “Thank you, Tray, that might be helpful.”
Tray yawned, and Julie patted his arm. “Hang in there, buddy, everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.”
He gave her a tentative smile, then was asleep within seconds.
“Let’s go, Brody. I want to get someone on that van right away.”
“What about the junkyard?”
“That, too. If this bastard steals tags, he must not live far from a place where he can get them. We’ll start looking for deserted areas near every junkyard in Texas.”
And hope that they found Will and the others before their unsub panicked and disappeared—with or without those boys.
But at least there was one bright spot in the day—once they ran his DNA, they could contact Mrs. Goodner and tell her they had found her son.
* * *
BRODY FOLLOWED JULIE out to the waiting room where she phoned Chief Hurt and told him about the van. “Have Tech locate all the junkyards around San Antonio and Amarillo, then search for farmland, deserted houses or ranches, any place that is slightly off the grid where our unsub could hold his victims without anyone noticing what’s going on.” She hesitated. “Also, pull all the footage from the security cameras from the robberies. Look for a black van, tinted windows, nearby. Apparently the unsub drove the boys to the targeted stores and waited to pick them up. We might be able to get a shot of the unsub.”
She shifted, digging some coins from her purse. “Yes. Really, that was fast.” She rubbed her forehead. “All right, thanks.”
When she hung up, Brody shoved his hands in his pockets. “What?”
“The boy in that bed is definitely Tray Goodner. Apparently he was fingerprinted when he was a child in one of those school programs to document kids, and the prints they took at the crime scene are a match.”
“So you can let his mother know?”
“Chief Hurt already contacted her. She’s on her way here now.” Julie dropped the coins in the coffee machine and waited on it to fill the cup. “Finally a bright spot in this mess.”
* * *
“WHAT’S GOING to happen to Tray?”
“I’ll talk to the D.A., make him a deal.”
Brody’s mind raced. He would help the family if he could.
“I’m going to call my friend Johnny. He has a helicopter. Maybe he and Miles can scout out some areas for us.”
Julie caught his arm. “Good, I’ll have the analyst send whatever they find to Detective McGregor, but tell them if they see anything suspicious, to let us know. They are not to go in without backup.”
“Got it.” Brody stepped aside to phone Johnny and Miles. He got them both on the line and gave them a rundown of the situation.
“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Johnny said. “I’ll gas up the chopper and be ready to go in half an hour.”
“We’ll find Will, Brody,” Miles assured him. “Don’t worry. He survived all these years because he’s a tough kid like his brother.”
Brody’s throat thickened. These men might not be brothers, but they were close to it. And they lived by the cowboy code of honor.
He wanted to teach that code to Will, prove to him that not all men were monsters, that some were honorable. They respected their women and children and protected them instead of using and abusing them.
“Julie—Agent Whitehead—said her team will send you coordinates of where to search,” Brody said.
“Hell, Brody, we know Texas. We’ll start looking for junkyards and deserted farmland right away.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Brody said.
Johnny cleared his throat. “No thanks necessary. You helped both of us when we needed it, and you gave us the privilege of working with the BBL.”
Brody didn’t know what to say to that. All the men who’d invested so far had made the place a success because they wanted to be there, not because of some duty or paycheck. They really cared about these troubled kids.
“Keep me posted. Oh, and guys, if you see anything suspicious, call me and Julie, and I will meet you there. She said to tell you not to go in on your own.”
They agreed. The elevator doors slid open just as he ended the call, and a short woman with long brown hair, probably in her forties, raced in. She hurried to the nurse’s station, wiping at tears on her cheeks. “My son... I received a call from the TBI, my son is here.”
Julie was on the phone, so he nudged her. “That must be Tray’s mother.”
She nodded, ended the call, then the two of them met the woman at the nurse’s desk.
“Mrs. Goodner?” Julie asked.
The woman’s dark skin indicated she was part Hispanic. Apprehension warred with relief in her eyes. “Yes, my son, Tray, he’s been missing five years. You found him?”
Julie nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We did.”
Mrs. Goodner practically collapsed against Julie on a sob. “I can’t believe it. I gave up.” Her eyes turned toward Julie. “But he is alive?”
Julie coaxed the woman into a chair in the waiting room and Brody joined them.
“Where is he?” She gripped Julie’s arms. “I have to see him. I have to give him a hug...”
“I know you’re anxious,” Julie said. “And I’ll take you to him in just a moment. But we need to talk first.”
Terror replaced the relief, and Mrs. Goodner began to tremble. “What? Where has he been? Is he hurt?”
Julie soothed her with soft whispered words, then explained how they had found Tray and what they believed had happened to him. “He has been abused,” Julie said, her own voice cracking at the look of pain on Mrs. Goodner’s face, “but he’s strong and he’s helping us try to find out where his abductor is holding the other boys.”
“Others?” Mrs. Goodner cried. “How many others?”
“So far we think there have been ten over a twenty-year period, but we can’t be sure until we catch him,” Julie said.
“My little brother is one of them,” Brody said, earning a compassionate look from the woman. “His name is Will. He and Tray were seen stealing from the convenience store together. And I think that the two of them protected the younger kids.”
“Your son is very brave,” Julie said. “But he will need therapy, Mrs. Goodner.”
Her face looked tortured. “I...don’t have insurance for that, but somehow I’ll find a way.”
Brody patted her hand. “Mrs. Goodner, I run a ranch called the BBL. It’s a home with camps for troubled boys. I have counselors on-site there, and we have activities like horseback riding and calf roping that boys can do. It would be my honor if you and your son would stay there when he’s released from the hospital. You can live in one of the cabins and Tray can receive counseling.”
“But how do I pay you?”
“I have a scholarship fund,” Brody said. “And since your son and my brother were friends, I think he’s earned one.”
Tears welled in Mrs. Goodner’s eyes again, and Julie squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go see your son.”
“What do I say to him?” Mrs. Goodner asked, suddenly nervous.
“Just speak from your heart,” Julie said.
Brody helped the trembling woman to stand, and the three of them walked to Tray’s room. Julie knocked on the door, then they went in. Mrs. Goodner hesitated, then wiped at her eyes. “Tray?”
The boy rolled from his side to look at her, then his face crumpled. “Mama?”
Mrs. Goodner released a sob, then raced to his bed and dragged the boy in her arms. “Tray, I love you. I missed you so much, I thought I’d never see you again.”
B
rody blinked back his own emotions. At least Tray recognized his mother. That was a start, but he had a long road back.
And he would have mental scars just like Will.
God, he wanted Will back so they could get started on the process.
* * *
JULIE REMINDED HERSELF that reuniting Tray with his mother made her job worthwhile. But there were so many other boys missing.
And Will was back in the clutches of this monster and this young man Jeremy.
She’d heard of cases where abuseds repeated the cycle by becoming abusers, but she hadn’t worked one to this degree before. The fact that Jeremy was helping his abductor ate at her.
Brody left Mrs. Goodner with his number and said he’d make the arrangements for her and Tray to stay at the BBL as long as they wanted and needed.
Julie couldn’t help but admire his compassion and desire to help others.
They left the hospital and went to pick up some barbeque, but questions lingered, nagging at them both.
“I keep wondering what’s happening to Will right now,” Brody said. “And that little boy Hank.”
Julie reached across the table and squeezed his hand. His gaze locked with hers, the silence filled with the worry plaguing both of them. But heat radiated from his fingers, and need flared in his eyes, reminding her of their earlier kiss.
And taunting her to ask for another.
To purge their tension by comforting one another.
But her cell phone jangled, and she checked the number. Seeing it was Chief Hurt, she quickly connected the call. “Agent Whitehead.”
“We have three possible suspects who were ex-military and who lost sons. Alan Mitland, ex-Navy. His son died at birth while he was deployed. Then Cox Fuller. He lost his little boy in a custody battle because of alcohol addiction.
“And a man named Barry Moody. He also served in the marines, and when he returned, his wife had left with his son.”
“We should divide up,” Julie suggested.
“I agree. Cord will take Mitland and I’ll track down Fuller.”
“That leaves me with Moody. Where does he live?”
“His last known address was outside San Antonio, not too far from that ranch Brody owns.”
Julie’s pulse jumped. Maybe they finally had a lead. “Give it to me and I’ll check it out.”
He recited the address and Julie jotted it down on a napkin, then ended the call. Brody was already paying the bill.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing concrete,” she said, not wanting to give false hopes. “We were looking back at the original kidnapping, at what might have triggered it and ran a search on men who served in the military who had lost a child around that time period.”
“You have a name?” Brody asked as they hurried to his Jeep.
“Yes,” Julie said. “But it may not lead to anything, Brody. The odds that he would still be at that location are next to nothing. If he’s come close to getting caught before, he would have moved around.”
He cranked the engine. “And since some of the other kidnappings took place in different areas and these robberies were near Amarillo, he might be living somewhere closer to the area.”
Julie nodded as he pulled from the parking lot. “I’m afraid with the news coverage about Hank and with Will getting caught, he may have already pulled up stakes again.”
She gave Brody the address and he entered it into his GPS, then they fell into a pained silence as he drove.
Thirty minutes later, they veered onto a deserted country road that looked as if it hadn’t been driven on in years. Dry scrub brush, mesquites and cacti filled the landscape, the sky a dismal gray. Occasionally a deserted farmhouse popped up, but if anyone lived out there they had to be a hermit.
Although it would make a perfect place for a compound.
Brody slowed as the wind tossed tumbleweeds across the barren land, then he spotted a rotting old farmhouse set off from the road. Barbed wire fencing surrounded the property, but even it looked ancient and was rusting and torn in places.
Brody wound down the dirt road, the tires spitting dirt and gravel, then slowed and they both scanned the property. “It looks deserted,” Julie said.
Brody sighed. “Yeah, but let’s check it out.”
He parked and together they climbed out and walked up to the dilapidated house. The windows had been boarded up, there were holes in the porch floor and half the windowpanes were broken out.
He climbed through one, and knew immediately that the house was vacant. “There are raccoons and rats in here,” he told Julie. “No sign that anyone’s been here in a long time.”
Julie shined a flashlight inside and grimaced in disgust. She’d been hoping at least to find signs that might lead them to this Moody man. But it didn’t look as if there was any furniture or anything else inside.
“Stay out there, I’ll check it out,” Brody said.
Julie nodded, then shined the flashlight to make a path and checked behind the house for outbuildings. But the only one she found looked as if it had been burned down.
She hurried back to Brody and met him just as he was climbing from the window. He had a piece of clothing that was rotting and filthy and was small enough to have been a child’s. “I found this.”
“I’ll take it back and have forensics analyze it,” Julie said. “If this man Moody is our guy, we might be able to match it to a victim.”
Brody’s phone buzzed, and he grabbed it from his belt then connected the call.
A second later, he gestured for her to get back in the car. “Okay, thanks, Miles. We’re on our way.”
“What?” Julie asked as she fastened her seat belt.
“They spotted a section of land that looked like it might be what we’re looking for. No sign of anyone there, but there’s a trailer and some outbuildings and barbed wire fencing surrounding it.”
Julie prayed it wasn’t a dead end as he sped away from the farmhouse.
* * *
PERSPIRATION BEADED BRODY’S neck as he raced toward the address. He hoped to hell this was the place they were looking for.
He wanted to find the bastard who’d hurt Will and the other boys and tear him apart limb by limb.
Julie remained silent, her anxiety evident in the way she kept drumming her fingers up and down on the seat. The Jeep ate the miles, bouncing over ruts and ridges in the country roads. Storm clouds rolled in, threatening snow, the trees shivering in the wind.
An hour later, he veered down another desolate road, his stomach churning as they neared the place.
His phone buzzed and he snatched it up. It was Miles.
“We’re going to land about a mile from the place just in case there’s someone on the property. We don’t want to alert them we’re coming.”
“Good idea,” Brody said. “We’re almost there.”
He hung up and filled Julie in. She checked her weapon, and Brody winced. He had a rifle in the back, but he’d never used it on anyone.
“Have you ever had to shoot anyone?” he asked.
Julie’s eyes darkened. “Once. A man charged me at an arrest.”
“What did he do?”
“He killed four college girls,” she said quietly.
Brody wanted to say more, but he spotted a locked gate up ahead and gestured toward it. “There it is.”
Julie squeezed his arm. “Stay behind me, Brody.”
He threw the Jeep to the right and parked between a group of trees. “The hell I will,” he said as he reached over the back of his seat for his rifle.
“Brody,” Julie said, tugging at his sleeve.
His jaw snapped tight. “We’ll go in together,” he said. “This is my brother we’ve come for. I’ll take the damn lead.”
Julie opened her mouth to argue, but he climbed from the vehicle, then retrieved bolt cutters from the back of his Jeep. Determined to protect Julie, he strode to the gate and cut the lock. He scanned the perimeter, noting a
trailer in the distance along with two outbuildings.
Moving stealthily, he crept next to the trees, weaving between them as they approached.
“I don’t see any vehicles,” Julie said. “No black van.”
Disappointment surged through Brody, but still they had to check it out. They inched closer and closer until the mobile home was within arm’s reach.
“Look,” Julie said, pointing behind the trailer to boxes of quart jars, distilled water and coffee filters.
But Brody had already reached for the door to the mobile home. As soon as he opened it, the pungent scent of ethyl ether assaulted him.
“It’s a homemade meth lab,” Julie said.
Then a strange sound filled the air, and Brody grabbed Julie’s hand. “Come on, it’s going to explode.”
They ran toward the woods, but the explosion rent the air, the force of it throwing them both to the ground a few feet away.
He tasted dirt, then he saw Julie lying on the ground, facedown. Panic slammed into him at the sight of blood trickling from her forehead.
Chapter Fifteen
Brody crawled over to Julie and eased her over.
“Julie?” He gently brushed her cheek, then removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the blood. Thankfully the cut was just a scratch.
Still, she could have been seriously injured.
“Julie, honey, are you okay?” Good God, he couldn’t lose her. Not now.
Not again.
She slowly opened her eyes, confusion clouding them. “What happened?”
“The trailer blew.”
“Not uncommon for homemade labs,” Julie said, then pushed herself up to a sitting position.
Brody wanted to drag her back in his arms, hold her tight. Kiss her and tell her he would never let her go again.
But he didn’t have that right.
“Brody, man, are you two okay?” Johnny yelled.
Brody straightened and stood as his friend approached. “Yeah, the damn trailer blew.”
“We heard it,” Miles said as he jogged toward them.
He helped Julie stand, and she brushed dirt and twigs off her slacks.
“Did you see anyone?” Johnny asked.