The Haunts of Cruelty

by R. G. Ryan

  I knelt down beside the footprints, nodding my head in affirmation to what he had explained. It was, of course, an explanation I certainly didn’t need, as I could track a snake across solid rock. But it was pretty good work for a piece of shit amateur like him.

  “So, if these tracks belong to the women, you can tell which direction they’re going, right?”

  Now that I was onto Cassie’s trail it was very difficult to keep from simply eliminating Morgan and leaving him to rot where he fell. But I felt I owed Cassie the opportunity to face her adversary before he died.

  He said, “It’s very rare for me to brag on my abilities, but I can track anyone, anywhere.”

  “Well, then, I suppose I should get back in the truck and let you do your thing, huh?”

  As I turned and started to walk back toward the van, I heard him say, “No problem. I’ll have this figured out in no time.”

  I sat in the driver’s seat, watching as Morgan slowly wound his way through the scrub-brush and Joshua trees—head down, eyes scanning the ground carefully for any further clues. It appeared the tracks were on a parallel course with the road, which made perfect sense as the vegetation gave good cover should one be required to seek it.

  Morgan was about fifty feet off the roadway and I saw him motioning for me to join him.

  “See something else?” I asked.

  He indicated an area behind a large Joshua tree. “This right here is significant, because…” and he pointed to some definite scuffs in the dirt behind the tree. “… someone took cover and watched the roadway from here.”

  “You can tell all that just from looking at a couple of scuff marks in the dirt?”

  I could be pretty dumb when I wanted to.

  “Man, you have no idea. See, here’s what I think happened.” He walked over to stand a little ways in front of the tree. “They were walking along just off the road, keeping close enough that they could follow it, when they hear me coming. They come over here and one of them probably gets behind that tree over there and one of them gets behind this one to wait until I went past.”

  “I see. So, where did they go from here?”

  “Well…” Morgan looked around shaking his head. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said finally.

  “Are you telling me that you’ve lost their trail?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Morgan defended. “See, up to this point they were going across a surface that yielded good impressions. But, they get here and for some reason the surface changes to more of a slate—you know, a hard rocky surface. Now we can probably pick the trail up again, but it’s anybody’s guess where that will be. I mean, it could be right over there…” he gestured toward an area about ten feet away. “…or it could be anyplace within a large radius from this spot. To pick it up again we’ve got to search in circles that expand outward until we pick something up.”

  I walked back toward the van to turn off the engine.

  “Hey, don’t worry,” he said confidently. “We’ll pick it up again. You’ll see.”

  “And if I don’t ‘see,’ do I get to kill you?” I said over my shoulder.

  Morgan turned slowly away and began searching.

  Suddenly, my phone rang.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Michael and Aaron stood in the kitchen of Aaron’s house, leaning with their elbows on the center island. The girls were in the great room watching an old Bogey and Bacall movie just to occupy the time and take their mind off the situation.

  “This is just killing me,” Michael complained.

  “Heard that,” Aaron replied as he checked his watch, noting that it was close to 10:00 p.m. “At least we know from agent Redfern that Jake is in the area where Cassie was last heard from.”

  “Yeah, but that was forty-five minutes ago. You’d think he would’ve called again by now.”

  “Listen, Michael…I’ve been on a lot of cases with Jake. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a friend or family member you’re trying to find. Stuff like this takes time.”

  Michael shook his head, stood and began pacing around the room.

  It occurred to Aaron as he watched him pace that each of us has a place inside where hurts are stored. Few, if any, catch a glimpse of this place for we rarely go there ourselves. When we do, the resulting emotional ruin is so consummate as to foster a resolve to lock the door and misplace the key.

  He could only imagine the enormity of pain that this situation had produced in Michael. He knew Jake was in an equal amount of pain, but at least he was out there doing something to resolve the situation. But for Michael, there was really nothing more Aaron could do than to just provide companionship. For now, it had to be enough.

  “I’m sorry for how this must make you feel, Mikey,” he said sincerely.

  Michael looked at him for a moment—fighting desperately for control and ultimately losing as a sob burst from his lungs and he covered his face with his large hands. He sat down at the island and cried unashamedly as Aaron reached over and laid a comforting hand on his arm.

  Finally, through the sobs Michael was able to get out, “I’m sorry, Aaron.” He dried his eyes on his coat sleeves. “Man, I’ve been holding that in since the beginning.”

  “I know you have, brother, but don’t you go feelin’ any shame now because you cried. Good for a man to cry—kind of cleans you out.”

  Michael nodded his head in silent affirmation.

  “Yeah, it sure does that.” He sighed deeply and stared at his friend. “Aaron, I’m so scared.”

  “Maybe it’d be good for you to talk about it.”

  Michael didn’t reply at first, and then offered, “You’re probably right.”

  Aaron said, “So, let me hear it.”

  “Okay, so the last we heard from anyone, Morgan had taken Cassie out in the desert in the middle of nowhere—right?”

  “That’s the way I understood it.”

  “Well, even though Jake and the FBI are out there, what if they can’t find her—it’s happened to people before. Or, what if it gets cold enough tonight that she gets hypothermia? Or, what if this stretches out several days and she runs out of water?”

  He wasn’t done, so Aaron simply sat in silence.

  Michael continued, “I’m even scared that something is going to happen and that Morgan will find Jake first and kill him out of revenge. I’m scared that maybe this other woman is still loyal to Morgan and is just waiting for the right time to turn on Cassie.”

  “Lotta’ fear there, brother.”

  “I know!” Michael answered, throwing his hands up in the air. “But I can’t seem to stop it.”

  Aaron sat down across from him and said, “All that stuff you said is purely speculation. That’s all. Let me challenge that. You ready to hear this?”

  Michael nodded his head slowly.

  “All right, here we go. Morgan is a punk—a skinny, cowardly little punk. Jake is…well…Jake. And—and this is a very big ‘and’—the FBI has thrown a substantial amount of resources into finding Cassie. Then, and this could possibly be the biggest asset of all, there is Cassie herself.”

  Michael laughed in spite of his stress.

  “She’s pretty fierce, isn’t she?”

  “Damn right! So much so that for my money, she’s the odds-on favorite in that situation or just about any other situation you could ever think of.”

  Michael sat still, pondering what Aaron had said.

  He finally said, “You’re right, Aaron. Thank-you. I needed to hear that.”

  “Hey, no problem, brother. We’ll get through this.”

  Muriel and Vanessa came into the kitchen.

  “What’s happening? Vanessa asked.

  “Oh,” Aaron replied. “We just having a little heart-to-heart. Nothing serious.”

  She looked back and forth between the two men.

  “Uh huh. I’m not buying it. Remember, I can tell when people are lyi
ng to me.”

  Muriel sat down next to Aaron and laid her head against his shoulder.

  “I think Michael is just scared, sweetie,” she said softly. “We’re all scared.”

  Vanessa sat by Michael and asked Muriel, “What about this other girl—Eddie? Is that her name?”

  Muriel nodded and said, “Eddie and I were the youngest girls in Paul Morgan’s stable. She was fifteen and I was sixteen and fresh off the streets of Seattle. She and I were good friends, but she was in love with Cassie.”

  Michael asked, “What do you mean, ‘in love?’”

  “Just what I said. I don’t think Eddie was a lesbian, although Morgan constantly forced all of us into those kinds of sexual encounters to satisfy his customers. You have to understand…what was happening to us was so traumatic emotionally that we both sort of gravitated to Cassie—partly because of who she is as a person, but also because of the fact that she was older. I mean, hell, I was in love with her too. Still am, for that matter.”

  Vanessa said, “I get that. She’s kind of a big sister. Someone who makes you feel like she’ll protect you if you get in trouble.”

  Muriel was nodding her head.

  “Exactly. But it was more than a feeling. I saw her back Morgan down on more than one occasion. I think he was terrified of her. And Eddie was so broken…” She paused, her eyes glinting with tears. “Eddie was—there’s no polite way to say this, so…she was used as a sexual plaything by her family from the time she was seven. Including her mom.”

  Aaron said, “That’s some sick shit right there!”

  “Yeah,” Muriel replied. “You don’t know the half of it and I’m not going to tell you. Too evil…too dark. So when she met Cassie and saw the light and goodness that she just naturally radiates, well…Eddie was like a clinging vine. And Cassie was always—I don’t know how else to say it—petting her. You know? Just holding her; rubbing her head, her shoulders. Just loving on her.”

  Vanessa’s hand flew to her mouth, covering it.

  “She’s done the same thing with me so many times. It’s what my…uh…my mom used to do all the time. It’s what I needed so desperately when I came to live with you guys. Just…tenderness, you know?”

  “I do know,” Muriel replied as she burrowed more deeply into Aaron’s chest. “Probably why I love this big dude so much.”

  Aaron said, “And here I was thinking that it was because I was so damn sexy.”

  “Well…” she replied with a blush, “…that too.”

  Their laughter broke the tension.

  Michael turned to Vanessa and said, “Come here,” as he reached out an impossibly long arm, enfolding her in a gentle embrace. “I know I’m a poor substitute for Cassie, but it seems like you could use some tenderness right now.”

  As Vanessa laid her head against his shoulder and wept, Michael kissed the top of her head, whispering, “Okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re all in this together. We’ll get through this together.”

  Aaron smiled at Muriel and whispered, “Exactly what my boy needed.”

  “What’s that?”

  “To get his mind off of his own troubles.”

  Michael’s phone rang breaking the spell.

  “Hello?” he answered quickly.

  “Michael, it’s Gerald Redfern.”

  “Yes sir. Any news?” he asked, putting the phone on speaker.

  “We’re monitoring Jake’s progress in real time, by which I mean that we can hear everything that is going on audibly, plus we can see where he is through our GPS tracking technology. And he has apprehended Paul Morgan and is forcing him to lead him to Cassie and Eddie.”

  An audible sigh was released in the room.

  “That’s great news, sir. Any idea of how long that will take?”

  “Hard to say at…”

  The signal suddenly cut out.

  “Hello?” Michael said loudly. “Agent Redfern? You there?”

  The only thing they could hear was static.

  “Well,” Aaron said. “At least we know Jake’s got that little bastard.”

  Muriel was nodding her head.

  “Yes. And if I know Jake…I’d hate to be in Paul Morgan’s shoes right about now.”

  “You sure got that right.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  I pulled the phone from my pocket so quickly that I almost dropped it.

  “Hello?” I answered hurriedly.

  “Uncle!” A weary, desperate feminine voice came weakly through the line.

  “Cassie! Is this you?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Where are you?” I asked frantically.

  “Uncle, I…I love you so much,” she said with a sob

  I closed my eyes, scarcely able to believe I was really talking to her.

  “I love you too, little girl. I’ve been so terrified for you; so frustrated that I couldn’t do anything…”

  “I know, I tried to call you earlier…”

  “I thought that was you. Where are you right now?”

  “Well, that’s kind of a problem. See, Paul Morgan—“

  I interrupted her, “Don’t worry about Morgan. I have him in custody.”

  “You…how…?”

  “I’m with him right now. We’re about a quarter mile from the cabin.”

  “But…how are you…”

  “Listen, don’t worry about how it all worked out. The important thing is that I’m close. Who is with you?”

  “What? Oh, it’s Eddie…Edwina Madison. I don’t think you ever met her but she was one of, you know, the original stable of girls up in Seattle. I owe her my life, Uncle. If it hadn’t been for her, we never would have gotten out.”

  I said, “So, can you spot anything that will help me find you?”

  “We are completely and totally lost. There was kind of a dirt road, but we thought it’d be better to get away from the road in case Paul came looking for us. And now, we’re so far out in the desert, I don’t think we can find our way back.”

  I could hear her teeth chattering over the phone.

  “We’re both so cold, Uncle.”

  “Hang on, Cass.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and said, “Gerry, can you track the location of that SatPhone signal?”

  “I already have William on it.”

  Returning the phone to my ear, I continued, “Cassie, I need you two to stay put. I know you’re cold and that you’re exhausted, but I want you to sit down right where you are; shelter in place and try to keep warm. I need to go, but we’re tracking your location.”

  “Okay, Uncle. I hope that I see you soon.”

  “Count on it.”

  I held the phone to my ear not wanting the call to end.

  “I guess this is good-bye for now?” Cassie’s sorrowful voice broke.

  A single, involuntary tear traced an arc across my cheek.

  “For now. See you soon, little girl.”

  “Really, really soon. Bye.”

  “Bye, Cass.”

  The line went dead.

  I turned around to check on Morgan only to find that he was gone.

  Later, I would wonder how he managed to pull it off, but the truth was I stupidly presented him with an opportunity and he acted on it.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pick a fist-sized stone up off the ground. In the time it took for me to realize what was happening, he had hurled the stone and even though I saw it coming, and it only struck a glancing blow, I fell in a semi-conscious, agonized heap. Before I could recover, Morgan was on top of me trying to pull my Sig from its holster. If he got it free, I was a dead man, so using what wits I still had I swept the HK in an arc toward him firing off a couple of rounds, but he ducked under the blast and managed to pull the Sig free and started running back in the direction of the van.

  I have been hit in the head a number of times in my life, and from the way
it felt, I was certain that at the very least I had a concussion and a severe scalp laceration.

  More scars for the collection.

  Vanessa would be pissed!

  I suddenly noticed that he had turned back around and was walking toward me firing the Sig. I returned fire and saw him dive for cover. At the same time, I rolled behind a nearby Joshua tree, cursing myself for being so unguarded; cursing Paul Morgan for being so clever and thanking the God, with whom I had a tenuous relationship, that Morgan was such a horrible shot.

  Nausea roiled in my stomach in concert with the agonizing pain I felt in my head. Oddly, I started thinking of all the movies I had seen in my life where the hero gets beaned in the head, falls down for a few seconds and then gets up and runs after the bad guys. Ultimately, of course, he catches up with them and then proceeds to beat the living shit out of at least three of them before passionately kissing the lady fair and riding off into the sunset.

  I wondered how the lady fair would feel if the hero stopped in mid-kiss and vomited all over her bodice.

  I seized the opportunity to practice.

  Vomiting, that is.

  Ordinarily the shots I had fired at Morgan would have found their mark, but I couldn’t be sure. One thing that was certain, my head wound was affecting my vision drastically. Walking at present was not an option and I was thankful for the cover provided by the Joshua trees and the sagebrush. I was also thankful that the HK and the DP-12 were strapped on me, thus making it almost impossible to quickly remove either weapon. It occurred to me that having that level of firepower on my person had probably made the difference between life and death.

  Since my vision was arguably sketchy, prudence seemed to dictate that I exchange the HK for the DP-12 and its sixteen rounds loaded with .00 shot, which equates to around nine .33 caliber rounds per shell. Even at thirty yards, two or three of those pellets hitting a human being will cause an unbelievable amount of damage.

  My head felt as if it were being split three different ways. As I felt around the back of my head, I discovered that the blow from the rock had torn through my scalp exposing the skull underneath, and like most head wounds, this one was bleeding like a proverbial son of a bitch! I knew that if I didn’t triage the wound soon I would definitely be in trouble.