Sitting in the car for two hours, with two cups of coffee pressing on her bladder, made for an uncomfortable situation. “I don’t know what to do. What if I go inside and that’s the exact moment someone ties up to our dock?”
“Why don’t we take turns?” Kathy suggested. “You can go first. You may as well take the cups and Thermos in. Meanwhile, I’ll keep watch.” To prove it, she picked up the binoculars.
“Okay.” Tori gathered up their stuff, quietly opened the car door and went inside. She was back less than five minutes later. “Okay, your turn,” she said, but Kathy waved a hand and shushed her.
“I think I see some movement by the dock.”
“You’re kidding.”
Kathy passed the binoculars over to Tori. “No, I’m not.”
Tori stared into the darkness beyond the house. At first she was sure Kathy was mistaken, but then she saw silhouettes moving among the shadows. “Oh, good heavens,” she whispered as she took in the shapes. Two taller figures herded a number of smaller ones. They cut around the back of the house, heading toward the road.
“What do we do?” Kathy asked.
“We can’t call 911 yet. Not until we see them trespassing in the house.”
“What do you make of them?”
“They looked like a couple of big guys and a bunch of kids.”
“Why would someone smuggle children across the lake from Canada—if that’s what they’re doing.”
Tori’s mind shifted into worried overdrive. “I hate to think it, but what if they’re trafficking in some kind of slavery?”
“What do you mean?” Kathy asked, aghast.
“Prostitution, sexual slavery—I’ve heard that people have been abducted to serve as surrogates and even for organ harvesting.”
“Oh, come on,” Kathy said.
“I’m not kidding. We’ve got to do something—and fast!” Tori was a teacher. The thought of children being molested in any way by ruthless predators sickened her.
They waited until there was no more movement, and then silently exited the car. Tori led the way up to Resort Road, circling around to the main road. The Bay Bar still had a few patrons, but nobody was out on the deck. They waited and watched as the burly figures herded the silent band of children across the street, running for the shelter of the unruly hedges that formed an effective barrier between the bar and the empty house. Once the group was out of sight, Tori and Kathy made their move, jogging along the shoulder of the road. Coming to the big willow, they darted to the side of Kathy’s car and crouched down.
“I don’t think they saw us,” Kathy whispered.
“We’ve got to get closer.”
“I wish we’d brought the binoculars.”
“Let’s cross the road. We can sneak up at the edge of the hedges to see what they’re up to.”
“Right.”
Tori led the way. They could hear the thumping bass from the bar’s jukebox, which would effectively cover any noise the squatters made. Tori and Kathy stayed at the far edge of the hedge. From that vantage point, they could see only one figure on the steps, standing in front of the door. He couldn’t have had a key, for it took too long for him to get it open, and Tori wondered if he was picking the lock. The door finally swung open and the figure ushered the others inside before the door closed again.
“They are now officially trespassing,” Kathy said. “I’m calling the cops. You keep watch.” She turned away.
Tori squinted, hoping to better see what was happening. To do that, she really needed to get closer. It was so dark, she wondered if she could peer into one of the windows without being seen. Chances were the intruders would stick to the back of the house so any lights they might be using wouldn’t be seen from the road. It was in the kitchen out back where she’d seen the new batch of fast food wrappers, and figured that’s where they’d be.
Darting around the end of the hedge, she stuck close to it until she came up to the house. She edged along the building, wondering what kind of insect life she was likely to encounter, until she came to the first window. Standing on tiptoes, Tori peered through the dirt-encrusted glass but couldn’t see a thing. She moved to the next window, which was just as filthy. Nothing to see there, either.
She sidled along the house until she came to the back. Slowly, she moved until she could see into the kitchen. A flashlight sat on the littered counter, its beam pointing away from where she stood. Six children sat on the filthy floor, their backs to the counters where the rubbish wasn’t piled quite as high, eating what looked like slices of white bread with nothing on it. They looked Asian, malnourished, dirty, and scared. The two men, dressed all in black, stood to one side, conversing. The tall one was white, the shorter one could have been Asian, but in the available light, it was hard to tell. If nothing else, their body language made them look menacing.
Tori ducked back down, wondering what she should do. The prudent thing to do was to wait until the police came—but what if they were delayed by an accident or some other petty crime? What if they considered trespassing too minor an infraction to warrant a visit from one of the few cars on patrol? And what if she did nothing and the creeps who were transporting these kids got away with their human contraband? How long had this operation been in effect? How many other children had they kidnapped and what had become of them?
What happened to Kathy? Did 911 have her on hold, or had they told her to keep a low profile and wait until a Sheriff’s cruiser could be dispatched?
Muscles rigid with tension, Tori dared to look through the window once again. The children still sat on the floor, but one of the guys had left the room. The shorter man was on the phone, probably calling whoever was supposed to pick them up. He seemed to be angry. She could hear him shouting, but thanks to the booming music coming from the bar, she couldn’t make out what he was saying. The children cowered, looking like they expected to be punished, a couple of them were in tears.
Tori ducked down again, her stomach churning. She had to do something to save those kids. But what? Even if she stormed the house, yelling for the children to run, she realized they might not speak English and would have no idea what she was telling them to do. She might frighten them even more. But would waiting doom them to a worse fate? And what might those scary-looking guys do to her?
Tori wondered if she dared look into that kitchen again. It was stupid, reckless, but someone needed to look out for those children, and—
A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her off kilter, the grip crushing. “Ow!” she cried.
“What are you doing here, bitch?” the big guy she’d seen inside demanded.
“Nothing. I was just—” Hanging around? That wasn’t going to cut it. “I saw you breaking into the house, and….” That wasn’t going to help, either. “Let me go!”
But he didn’t let go. Instead, he slammed his fist into her left temple. She fell against the house, her head slamming into the clapboards, stars dancing before her eyes, and slumped down into the weeds. Dazed, she was barely aware as he grabbed her by both wrists and started dragging her around to the back of the house. Her shirt rode up and prickly weeds, grass, and stones dug into her skin. “Let me go,” she called weakly, her voice sounding wobbly, but the brute ignored her.
When they got to the back door, he stopped and kicked her in the gut. Tori writhed on the ground, curling into a ball of agony, and the guy kicked her again. “Bitch! That’ll teach you to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Tori couldn’t speak—she could barely breathe—as the man grabbed her like a sack of potatoes and tossed her over his shoulder. He stomped up the steps into the kitchen and tossed her on the floor, the piles of rubbish doing little to break her fall.
The children screamed and cried while, towering above her, the second man hollered at them in a language she couldn’t understand.
“Shut up!” the brute hollered, louder than everyone else. The children’s cries softened to whimpers.
&nbs
p; “What da hell we gonna do with her?” the second man demanded, training the powerful flashlight’s beam directly into Tori’s eyes.
“Let me think, dammit, let me think!” the brute hollered, and for good measure, kicked Tori one more time, her knee exploding in agony. “Stop, stop!” she begged, knowing it was useless.
Kathy! Where are you?
“I told you we should wait. It to close to you killing that man.”
“You killed Michael Jackson?” Tori asked.
“Shut up!”
“He saw your boat on the bay,” she guessed. “He followed you here. He knew what you were up to. He was going to report you!”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t. And neither will you, bitch. I’ll fill your mouth with maggots, too.”
Tori stared into the man’s dark cold eyes. She didn’t doubt him for a moment.
CHAPTER 15
Kathy finished speaking with the 911 dispatcher and turned back to the hedge, only to find that Tori had vanished. Knowing how upset her friend was at the thought of children in danger, Kathy had an inkling of where her friend had gone, but decided to take a circuitous route. She stuck to the east side of the hedge, fumbling in the dark. Branches swiped her cheek and tangled in her hair, along with a sticky film that clung to her face. She clawed at the webs, hoping there wasn’t a live occupant in the middle of it. She stifled a scream and shuffled along.
“What are you doing here, bitch!” an angry male voice cried.
“Ow!” Tori wailed.
Kathy’s heart nearly leapt into her throat at the sound of her friend in pain. She couldn’t see what was going on, but heard a dull thud and then scrabbling on the other side of the hedge. Fear closed her throat—she couldn’t make a sound as she heard Tori groan and the sound of something heavy being dragged away.
Kathy followed the sound for a terrible few seconds, and then it faded out. Terrified, she put an arm in front of her face and plunged through the hedge. Sharp branches scraped her hand, her head, and tore at her clothes as she clawed her way through the four or five feet full of branches. She broke free in time to see the dark figure kick her best friend in the stomach.
Terrified, Kathy’s breath caught at seeing Tori writhe in pain. Then the guy picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed into the house.
Kathy turned away, fumbling for her phone once more and stabbing the numbers 911.
“Ward County 911. What is your emergency?”
“Help me! My best friend has just been attacked by some big goon!”
“Calm down. Where are you?”
“I’m at 8766 Ridge Road, next door to The Bay Bar. I just got off the phone with another 911 dispatcher about trespassers at the same address. One of them saw my friend and attacked her. I think he’s taken her hostage!”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes, but—”
“Stay away from the house. Go to a safe location and wait for the Sheriff’s deputy to arrive.”
“But my friend—!” Kathy cried.
“Won’t be helped if you’re in trouble, too,” said the calm female voice.
“She’s hurt. He kicked her. What if he kills her before the deputy can get here? I’ve got to get help. I’ve got to—” But Kathy didn’t finish the sentence. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and turned for the bar, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste as she bypassed the hedge and hurried along the side of the house.
She stumble-ran across the grassy area in front of the bar, swung around the side of the deck and barreled up the steps, then threw open the door. “Help!”
Paul looked up from his stance behind the bar, and a couple of the bikers turned to see what the commotion was.
“Tori’s in trouble. A guy broke into the house next door and he attacked her.”
Except for the pounding music, the bar had gone silent.
“C’mon, guys,” yelled one of the bikers dressed in black leathers, with a blue-and-white bandana covering his head. He slammed his beer bottle onto the top of the bar. “Let’s give the little lady a hand.”
“Hold it,” called a voice from the front corner of the room. The guy with the crew-cut stood. He withdrew a badge from his jacket pocket. “Ronald Field, Homeland Security.”
“See, I told you that guy was a fed of some kind,” Bandana-Guy said.
“Everyone stay put,” Field said with authority. “A federal investigation is in progress. Don’t interfere under penalty of prosecution.”
“Listen to him, guys,” Paul implored. “You know the feds would just love to nail a bunch of bikers.”
Kathy glared at Field. “Are you going to save my friend?”
“I don’t have authority to move against the people in that house.”
“What did you see?” Paul asked.
“A couple of mean guys. They tied up to Cannon’s dock and herded a bunch of kids into the house. Tori think’s they’re traffickers.”
“Traffickers!” Bandana-Guy practically exploded.
“Kids?” another one of the guys shouted, furious.
“If there’s kids involved, you can’t just go bursting in. They might get hurt.” Paul pointed out.
“I ain’t letting any kids get exploited,” yelled Bandana-Guy, and threw an arm into the air, beckoning his comrades to follow.
“You’re all under arrest,” Field hollered, but the bikers ignored him and moved en masse toward the door, with Kathy leading the way.
Once outside, she paused in the parking lot. “They’re at the back of the house, in the kitchen. There’s no lights. How will you see?”
“What’s the layout of the house?” Bandana-Guy asked.
“There’s a door to the kitchen at the back. The front door is probably unlocked. The hallway goes straight back to the kitchen.”
He nodded, then turned to his friends. “Terry, Rick, John—you go through the front door. Give a yell. As soon as we hear you enter, the rest of us will storm the back.”
“Give us two minutes to get into position, and then bust in.”
“You got it.”
“I’ll show you how I got there,” Kathy said.
They followed her to the hedge where she and Tori had first watched the squatters when they’d arrived. She pointed to the deepening darkness. “This way to the back of the house.”
The group split up, with the majority of the bikers following Kathy. She had no idea where she’d first pushed through the hedge, and had to take a good guess. “Cover your faces,” she advised, before she plunged in. They followed close behind. Kathy burst through the hedge and nearly stumbled into the yard with the guys right behind her. They sidled up to the back of the house, and waited. Kathy swallowed, listening hard. What if they couldn’t hear the diversion from the bikers out front? What if the brute had already killed Tori? What about the children?
Suddenly, they heard a racket, and Bandana-Guy jumped onto the step, threw open the back door and hollered, “Bonzai!”
The others echoed his shout and stormed into the kitchen, with Kathy bringing up the rear.
The room exploded in a cacophony of screams and shouts. A shot rang out and Kathy could just make out Bandana-Guy barreling into the tall brute, knocking him to the floor. Another two bikers joined the melee and the four of them rolled around the garbage-strewn floor, the air blue with curses and shouts.
A flashlight on the counter gave off just enough light so that Kathy could see the children huddled in a corner, screaming and crying, and in the opposite corner lay Tori, curled in a ball with her hands covering her head as though to fend off blows.
Kathy went to her and tried to pull her hands away, but Tori screamed and lashed out.
“Tor, it’s me, it’s me! Kathy!” she shouted.
Tori froze, staring up at her, and Kathy gathered her suddenly sobbing friend in her arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
“The kids, the kids!” Tori wailed.
“We’ll take care of them, I p
romise,” Kathy shouted above the rest of the caterwauling.
The sound of a siren cut the air, and then was suddenly silenced.
Bandana-Guy and the other bikers had finally subdued the brute and yanked him to his feet. “How do we get out of here?” he asked Kathy.
She pointed. “Down the hall to the front door.”
“Come on, scum,” Bandana-Guy said, and he and the other bikers hauled the dazed and staggering man forward.
Kathy tried to help Tori to her feet, but she fell back in pain as her right knee collapsed under her. “We’ve got to help those kids,” Tori cried.
Now that it was quieter, the children had stopped screaming, but their whimpering was heartbreaking. Kathy again tried to haul Tori to her feet, and this time succeeded. They hobbled across the messy kitchen and paused before a little girl.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kathy said gently. “We’re here to help you.”
If anything, the children seemed even more frightened and huddled together into a solid mass in the corner.
“Shhh,” Tori said. “We won’t hurt you, I promise,” but her words were of no comfort to the frightened children.
“Maybe we’d better back off,” Kathy advised.
“Yeah,” Tori agreed. “But I won’t leave them. Not until I’m sure they’re safe.”
“We won’t leave them,” Kathy assured her. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” Tori said, her voice strained.
Thundering footsteps preceded the appearance of an armed deputy. “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.
“The bikers—they got the bad guys, and with no help from Homeland Security,” Kathy said bitterly. “These kids,” she said, sweeping her arm through the air to point to the children, “are their contraband.”
With Baited Breath Page 18