by L. T. Ryan
“Where’s Manny?” I asked.
“The kid?” Braxton said. “He’s safe. Further out of town than we are now. Why?”
“Let’s think about this for a moment. So far, one person we’ve run into has known every single player in this game.”
“Manny.” Bridget pulled out her keys. “Braxton, Mitch is right. We need to go see Manny. Now.”
Braxton led the way with his strobe light on, which cut the drive time in half. When we reached the house, a patrol car was parked in front. We met Braxton next to it.
“You guys go grab some coffee,” he told the officers. “We got this for the next fifteen minutes or so.”
They drove off as we approached the house. The door opened. A man close to Manny’s size stepped out and waited for us.
“Detective,” he said.
“We need to talk to Manny,” Braxton said.
The man crossed his arms. “Haven’t you guys hounded him enough? He needs his rest.”
“This is important,” Bridget said.
“So is Manny’s health.” He turned to go back inside.
“Sears is dead,” Braxton said. “If they got to him, don’t you think they’ll come for Manny at some point? Maybe you, too. You want to have your girls around when that happens?”
The guy stood motionless for several seconds. I didn’t bother to mention that I had killed Sears. Frankly, the fact that this guy lived in a decent house in a nice area when he let his girls live in a small apartment with only Manny to fend for them pissed me off. If he had to suffer a bit tonight, I was okay with it.
“Ten minutes,” he said. “That’s all you get.”
We followed him inside. Manny and his sisters were watching television. The guy told the girls to head upstairs, and he followed, after issuing Manny a warning not to incriminate himself. An odd thing to say.
After the guy left, I said, “What would you incriminate yourself with?”
Manny forced a smile and shook his head. No easy feat considering his injuries.
Braxton shot me a look, then took the lead. “SLS.”
“What?” Manny stiffened a little at the acronym.
“Does that mean anything to you, Manny?” Braxton asked. “S.L.S.”
Manny’s eyes darted left before reestablishing contact with us. “That could be a bunch of things, I guess.” He pointed upstairs and forced another grin. “Stupid little sisters.”
“Don’t really think that’s funny,” Braxton said. “And you’re wasting precious time. Lavelle’s dead. Sears is dead. Who’s next? If we don’t figure that out soon enough, it could be you. You want that?”
He took a sip through a straw and adjusted himself in his seat. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know. Spotlight Security. I only did jobs for them here and there whenever Sears needed a hand. I wasn’t involved in day-to-day stuff and whatever they got into with Cal.”
“Cal Stokes.”
Manny looked confused for a second, then realized he might have revealed something he shouldn’t have. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“You don’t have to protect them,” Bridget said. “They sure aren’t trying to help you. The sooner we can get to Stokes, the better.”
“He’s a weird guy,” Manny said. “I been to his, uh, compound, I guess you’d call it, a few times to provide some extra muscle.”
“Compound?” I said. “What do you mean by that?”
“He’s got these buildings, some like dormitories. People come from all over to stay there for a while. Weirds me out. They’re, like, devoted to this guy.”
“He runs a cult?” I asked.
“Guess you could call it that.” Manny took another sip of his drink.
I glanced at Braxton. His eyes were wide, and he nodded at me. He knew something about this compound. This cult.
Taking a chance, I pulled out the photo of the women with Marissa in the background, walked up to Manny, and put it in front of his face. “Name these people.”
“That’s Liliana and her sister, Emilia.”
“What about the woman in the background? Recognize her?”
His eyes narrowed. “Not sure.” He leaned in closer. One eyebrow lifted, then both eyes widened for a second.
“You know her.”
“I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her. Seen her at the compound last time I was there.”
“When was that?”
“Three weeks ago, something like that.”
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through photos until I found a good one of Marissa’s face. During this time, Manny’s stepfather poked his head downstairs.
“You have five minutes,” he called out.
“We’ll take as long as we need,” Braxton said. “Don’t think I can’t get a warrant if I need to. You want charges brought on Manny?”
“What?” Manny looked like he was about to sprint out the front door.
Braxton held out his hand and shook his head. “Just getting him off our backs for a bit.”
Manny eased back. I showed him a better picture of Marissa. It only took a second for him to say, “Yeah, that’s her. Maybe not as put together as in that photo, but she was there. I think I remember a young boy with her.”
Everything stopped at that moment. My breathing. My heart. My brain. All I knew was I needed to be at that compound now.
Manny filled us in with every detail he knew. Before we left, Braxton pulled up an aerial photo of the place and created a sketch from it. Manny labeled the buildings as he knew them. And he pointed out Stokes house, which was set off from the others.
As we left, Bridget grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side.
“How you feeling?” she asked.
“Anxious.” I stared into her eyes for a beat. “But the way you’re looking at me is calming a bit.”
“Good,” she said. “I need you to be Detective Tanner when we get there. Got it? Mitch the father, who might be close to finding his son, has to wait to come out. We can’t blow this.”
34
The cold had no effect on Molly as she hurried back to the truck. She didn’t soften her footsteps or conceal herself. Nothing mattered but Robbie.
When she rounded the final corner, her heart sank. A couple of men were leaning against her truck, beer bottles in hand. They were clearly intoxicated, talking loudly and laughing even louder.
Molly stopped, took a step back, reached out to her side to find the wall to steady her. The men by the truck symbolized every obstacle that ever stood in her way. Terrible parents. Lack of education. The men who abused her left her feeling worthless. Cal.
Cal.
She thought about the man for a moment. The way he had treated her. Manipulated her. Nice to her for a minute, only to turn around and be cruel for an hour.
And she’d vanquished him.
Taking a deep, frigid breath, Molly steadied herself. She let go of the wall. She put one foot in front of the other until she reached the truck.
“You guys mind?”
They were both leaning against the driver’s door, facing the bar. The closest one rolled to his right to see her. The other stepped out and stood next to his friend for a second.
“Ain’t that the girl we saw hopping out this here truck?” he said.
“I think you’re right. That’s the one I said would beg us to tag team her.”
Molly’s stomach turned at the thought while fear raced through her. Her fingers tingled. Stomach tightened.
“You wouldn’t have a chance,” she said.
One guy laughed, but the other seemed to grow angry at her words. He started forward. His buddy reached out and grabbed his arm. When the aggressive guy looked back, the other shook his head and seemed to mutter, “Leave her be.”
“Again, you guys mind? I need my truck.”
The calm man stepped to the front of the fender and leaned over the hood. “What’s a city girl like you driving a beater like this?”
“I’m not doing thi
s,” she said as she walked to the passenger door. Hard soles slapped the asphalt. She spun to see the aggressive guy coming toward her. His friend was on the ground, scrambling to get to his feet.
“Shoulda just kept your mouth shut,” the aggressive guy said.
Molly waited for him to take the next two steps. He was angry, and it showed in his movements. His arms were wide. His gait, too. She had three perfect shots to take that would neutralize him, but figured she could get away with just one. He was tall, so getting a crushing blow to his trachea would be difficult. Same for the solar plexus, though she could kick. But the best would be a foot to the groin.
The guy aimed his finger at her face as he crossed into the strike zone. Molly didn’t let him get any closer. She took a step for momentum, kicked her foot back to build torque, and let him have it. His eyes bugged out as his hands dropped to his crotch. Like most, he bowed forward, but not far enough for her to follow up with a knee to his nose. However, he’d left himself defenseless and Molly took advantage. The blow to his throat resulted in a crunch, followed by a hollow scream from the guy. He fell to the side.
By this time, his buddy was on his feet. No longer Mr. Nice Guy. He cursed at her and peeled off his jacket. Dumb move.
Molly had the passenger door open and fished behind the seat for the rifle. But she couldn’t get it in time. The guy had burst forward, slammed the door on her, then yanked her away from the truck by her arm. He let her go and she slammed into the brick facade of the building. Pain flashed, but it was only due to impact. Nothing felt broken. Her head was clear.
She played it off like she had been injured, bending at the waist and bringing her hands to her face.
The guy laughed. “See what you did to my friend there?” He pointed at his buddy writhing in pain on the ground. “I’m gonna do worse to you. And then I’m gonna let him have his.”
She waited as he walked toward her. He grabbed a handful of her hair, began pulling her up. It took him a moment to react to the smile on her face.
“What the hell? You crazy or something?”
He cocked his arm back, but before he could strike, Molly delivered a jab to his nose, causing tears to flood his eyes and blind him. Then she hit him in the stomach. He bent forward. She grabbed the back of his head and yanked down as she drove her knee into his face. He dropped to the ground.
Molly went back to the truck, slid the seat forward, and grabbed the rifle. She slid the seat back, hopped in, and slammed the door. She rolled down the window and said, “Y’all better be gone by the time I’m back, or I’m shooting both of you.”
Fueled by adrenaline, Molly drove to the motel. She left the truck in the middle of the lane with the motor running and door open. She didn’t have a plan other than to get in, get the boy, and get out. But how would she get in?
She looked around. The office was a few units down. They wouldn’t hand a key over, for sure. But the rifle might convince them to do so. She hurried over and looked in. No one stood behind the counter. On the wall was a strip of wood with ten hooks, each with at least one key.
“Do it,” she told herself. She took several quick breaths, whipped the door open, and rushed inside.
“One second,” someone said from the room behind the counter.
Molly didn’t respond. She hopped up so her belly was on the counter and grabbed the key.
“Hey, what the heck’re you doing, lady?”
Molly didn’t bother to look at the person as she aimed the rifle in their direction.
“Holy shit, woman!” They ran back to the room they were in and within five seconds, Molly heard them on the phone with the police.
Perfect.
She wasn’t concerned about whether the police showed up. They’d be doing her a favor if they did.
Molly ran out of the office and down to Room Four. She slid the key inside the lock, turned the handle, and pushed the door open as hard as she could.
Several stunned faces looked back at her. She recognized every single one. Robbie. Anton. The women that used to come see Cal with Anton’s partner, Lavelle.
Anton went into action. He hopped up and grabbed a revolver off the nightstand.
“Don’t!” Molly screamed.
He turned slowly, the gun dangling by his side. “What’re you gonna do? You’re nothing but Cal’s shitty side piece.”
She squeezed the trigger.
Everyone blinked.
Nothing happened.
Anton laughed so hard he placed the gun across his stomach to contain himself. “So damn stupid. Did you even check that thing was loaded? Not sure Cal would leave a loaded rifle in his truck all the time. Probably carried—“
Those were the last words Anton ever spoke. The rifle had been loaded. She had forgotten to chamber the round.
Mass confusion followed the deafening silence. One woman fled to the corner of the room behind the dresser. The other dove into the bathroom. The first echo of sirens reached the room.
Molly reached for Robbie. The poor child had his hands over his ears. He stared at the dying man stretched out half on the bed, half on the floor.
“Come on, Robbie. Let’s get you out of here.”
He still didn’t move. She picked him up and carried him out to the truck. The sirens were closer, but the police were not yet in sight.
She pulled out of the parking lot as the strobes bounced off the buildings at the other end of the road. Molly managed to get them away from the motel before the cops ever turned the corner.
35
Braxton pulled his sedan over in the middle of nowhere. Exhaust disappeared into the blackness of night. He strode toward us, cinching his coat tight across his chest.
Bridget and I got out and met him in the middle.
“Not gonna believe this,” he said.
“After the past day, I’ll buy anything,” I said.
“Good, ‘cause I’m selling some pretty wild shit here.”
“What is it?” Bridget asked. “Hurry up, it’s cold, and we’re close.”
“Our friend Anton,” he said.
“Yeah?” Bridget said.
“Dead.”
“Seriously?” She looked at me as though I could confirm. “Where?”
“Motel in a small town not too far from here. Also, a couple of guys were found busted up outside a bar, but we don’t know if that’s related or not. Here’s the real kicker.” He paused a beat, wiped the iciness off his upper lip. “Emilia and Liliana were in the room.”
I stood there with my mouth open, not sure whether to believe what I had just heard. “Hold up. We just got Anton, Emilia, and Liliana in one go.”
“More or less.” He checked his phone. “They’ve got them detained. Just got confirmation that the bar and motel both have security cameras. I’m gonna head there. You two go to the compound, but wait for me. Got it?”
Even though Bridget and I both nodded, I knew neither of us meant it. We returned to the car and waited as Braxton U-turned and pulled up next to us.
“Stay flexible,” he said. “Might need you guys to come on site or divert to another place. My gut tells me if Stokes isn’t behind this, he’s gonna get word soon and might bail.”
“Mine, too,” I said. After Bridget rolled her window up, I added, “And I don’t intend on letting him get away.”
“Remember what I said, Mitch.”
“Oh, I remember. But I was never one for following directions.”
She shook her head as she dropped the transmission into drive and pulled back onto the road. Ten minutes later, we passed the entrance to Stokes’ cult compound. It looked like any other dirt road running disappearing into the woods.
“Quarter mile ahead should be a road we can pull onto,” Bridget said. “Figure that’s far enough they won’t pay attention.”
“If this guy was with the others in the Air Force, he’ll have some insight into securing his perimeter. Who knows what he might have out there?”
; “Guess we gotta be careful then.”
“Understatement of the hour.”
She laughed. “We’ll keep a little distance between us. I think we’ll be fine.”
“Hope so.”
“What’s the alternative? Want to wait for me to get a strike team put together? Go in all hot, blow shit up, and kill a bunch of innocent but brainwashed individuals?”
I shrugged. “Can you make that happen in fifteen minutes?”
Bridget shook her head and opened her door. “Let’s get moving.”
She had a tactical flashlight with a green plastic cover. Didn’t light up as much area, but also was hard to see from a distance, and if you did, it might just look like an animal’s eye reflecting light back. It made the trek a hundred times easier than if we were stumbling over branches.
We took our time, keeping to the edge of a field where it met up with the woods. It was a good setup. After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted to the point I could make out shapes a good bit ahead. When I saw the house come into view, I told Bridget to switch off her light.
“Think that’s Stokes’ place?” she asked.
“From the overhead shot we had, I don’t remember anything between that dirt road and the compound.” I looked back and scanned the area. “Still, kinda getting me that there’s no fence or anything here. Is the area that deserted? Or are we missing an entire security team?”
“Wonder if they fill out the lower levels of Spotlight with people from here.”
“Doubt it. Can’t have brainwashed cult followers out there in the wild running interference for some rich person.”
“He’s gotta have a few trusted people inside, though. Right?”
“I suppose.”
“And what about security here? He’s not letting the brainwashed do that. Is he?”
“I guess not.”
“So what you’re saying is—“
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” I didn’t have to look over to see her smile. I felt it. She leaned in and bumped my hip. “Not too much of that. Might knock me into a tripwire.”
She covered her mouth to stifle a quick laugh. “What are we gonna do? Watch all night?”