by Debra Webb
“Don’t move,” Trinity warned.
“You’re a dead man,” Lane challenged.
“You might want to reassess that conclusion,” Jessie suggested.
Trinity liked this guy better all the time.
“Get out,” Trinity ordered.
When both men attempted to do so, Trinity aimed the weapon at Lane. “Not you.”
The other guy scrambled out over his boss.
Trinity slammed the trunk lid closed and turned to the man whose teeth were chattering from the cold. “What’s your name?”
“Waylon Robinson.”
“Okay, Robinson,” Trinity said, “on your knees.”
“Look, man,” the guy whined, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just don’t do this.”
“You heard him,” Jessie echoed. “On the ground.”
The guy lowered to his knees, fear seeping from his pores like sweat.
“Where did they take my wife?”
The idiot’s eyes went even wider. “They left?”
“Yes.” Trinity rammed the muzzle into his forehead. “Where did they go? They must’ve had a plan. A route. A rendezvous with a buyer. Tell me now. This is the only chance you’ll get.”
“Okay, okay. I don’t know about your wife, but they have to get the kids to New Orleans by Christmas morning. The buyer takes them by boat from there. I don’t know where to. I swear to God.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s all I know. I just do what I’m told.”
Trinity felt sick to his stomach that these bastards would be doing this disgusting work at all, but especially at Christmas. “I need to know what they’re traveling in and the route.”
The guy’s eyes opened wide. “Sometimes it’s a panel truck. Sometimes a van. It was always different, just like the route.”
Lane’s ranting inside the trunk grew increasingly louder.
Had to be a good eighteen hours from here to New Orleans. “They make any regular stops?”
“Just one.” His face turned somber.
“Where?”
“I’ll show you, but I’m not telling you.”
Well, damn. The scumbag had grown a brain in the last five minutes. Great.
“I’d just go ahead and shoot him,” Jessie suggested, the aim of his double barrel centered on the man’s head. “He don’t seem worth saving to me.”
“You’re probably right,” Trinity agreed. “But I would like to get my wife back before Christmas.”
“I can take you straight there. If we hurry, we’ll beat them there and we can take ’em by surprise.
There’ll only be two in the truck. We got time to get there first before anyone shows.”
“Since they’ve left already,” Trinity wondered, “why didn’t they stop and pick up you and Lane? They surely would’ve recognized your vehicle. It’s not like there’s much traffic on this stretch of road.”
He shook his head adamantly. “They never leave in this direction.” He hitched his head south. “They take the back roads to the interstate.”
“What’s the purpose of this one stop they make?” Trinity still wasn’t convinced.
“To pick up more merchandise. They got two streams of supply. One here and one down south. They’ll meet up with their counterparts down there and then you’ll be seriously outnumbered.”
Headlights coming from the north cut through the darkness.
“Think maybe that’s your friends?” Jessie asked.
“Hope so.” Trinity turned to watch the car approach. As it slowed to a stop he recognized Simon Ruhl behind the wheel. Relief made his knees weak.
WHEN SIMON, JIM, AND FBI AGENT George White were brought up to speed, Trinity suggested a strategy.
“Robinson will take me to the next pick up location—the only other stop between here and New Orleans—and I’ll intercept with the help of local law enforcement, if necessary.”
White was shaking his head before Trinity finished his statement. “I can’t let you do this without the Bureau. This is a federal crime, Colby,” he said to Jim. “The Bureau has jurisdiction.”
Trinity wasn’t wasting time arguing. “Then you’ll go with us.”
“Wait!” Robinson argued. “I said I’d take you. I’m not taking no fed.”
“First of all—” White countered Trinity, ignoring Robinson all together “—we should have notified the local authorities already. The lives of twelve minors are at stake. We’re all in violation of at least a half dozen laws.”
Jim held up his hands before anyone else could speak. “Agent White is absolutely right.” When Trinity would have balked, Jim went on, “However, we need a head start if we’re going to ensure the safety of these children as well as Von.”
“What do you have in mind?” White asked, clearly still unconvinced.
“Simon,” Jim turned to the man at his side, “call Ian and have him bring an SUV with everything Barrett will need. We need it here ASAP. And call your contact at the paper and see if we can slip in a last-minute bit of breaking news in the morning edition. We want whoever is behind this to believe Lane and Robinson didn’t survive to be interrogated by authorities.”
Simon pulled his cell phone from his jacket and stepped aside to make the calls.
Lane started to grunt and groan around the glove that had been stuffed into his mouth. He’d been taken from the trunk and set on the ground until a decision was made.
“What’re you up to, Colby?” White demanded.
“You and Barrett will get on the road with your guide here and intercept these bastards. So that they won’t change their strategy, we’ll make sure the news mentions that a car with two unidentified dead bodies was discovered in the wee hours of the morning.”
White nodded. “I see where you’re going.”
“All we need is thirty-six hours,” Trinity said. “Once we’ve intercepted the cargo, White can have the New Orleans field office set a trap for the buyer at the port. There won’t be any collateral damage and the Bureau gets a big break in this operation.”
White held up his hands. “All right.” He exhaled a heavy breath. “That I’ll agree to. But only because I can write it up as part of my ongoing investigation.”
“What about him?” Trinity nodded toward Lane.
“I’m certain my friends at Chicago PD can figure out something to do with him for the next thirty-six hours,” Jim offered. “And you,” he said to Robinson, “may get full immunity for your cooperation.”
Lane started that emphatic grunting and groaning again. Jim nodded to Trinity who removed the man’s gag.
“I’ll cooperate,” he said. “I waive my right to counsel just like Robinson. I want to help.”
“Considering the delicacy and shortness of time,” White said, “I will allow you to remain in Mr. Colby and Mr. Ruhl’s custody for the next thirty-six hours. During which time you will be represented by counsel and will give a full accounting of all you know related to this operation. That’s how you can help, Lane.”
“Anything,” Lane pleaded.
“Be aware,” White reminded both men, “that I do not have the authority to grant either of you immunity, but I can vouch for your cooperation and if we’re successful in returning these children unharmed, I believe your efforts will be recognized.”
“Close enough,” Lane agreed.
Simon stepped back into the circle. “Ian is making the necessary preparations and I’ve made the calls to ensure the media works to our advantage.”
Trinity wasn’t sure he could stand waiting another minute.
Jim turned to him. “You find Von and bring her and those children back here unharmed.”
Trinity nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He would do it or die trying.
Chapter Thirteen
The roar of the wheels on the asphalt had finally lulled the children to sleep.
The tranquillizer they’d used on Von had worn off an hour or so ago. Since then she’d dozed
once or twice but she’d jerked awake each time the momentum of the vehicle changed.
The bastards had provided blankets and pillows. Otherwise they lay on the cold steel bed of the panel truck. A case of bottled water and a small portable toilet had been provided.
More frightening, they were smashed into a small area near the cab while office furniture filled the end nearest the side-by-side cargo doors. The furniture appeared to be attached to the walls of the cargo area, but if any of it came loose and the driver made a sudden stop the children could be… She didn’t even want to think about it.
The risks these people took with the lives of these children were appalling. What was she thinking? They had no sense of compassion for these children. These little girls were commodities.
She and the children had been warned that if they tried anything or made any noise, especially when the vehicle was stopped, they would all die. Von looked around the walls and ceiling of the cargo area in an attempt to see through the semi-darkness. The driver had warned that explosives were rigged in the cargo area. If she and the children failed to behave…they would be remotely activated.
Von hoped she lived long enough to personally beat the attitude out of at least one of these scumbags. Preferably the guy in the suit.
Trinity.
She wouldn’t believe he was dead.
He was far too resourceful for that.
Knowing him, he was hot on the trail of this damned truck right now.
Except he didn’t know what kind of vehicle they were in or what route they had taken. Or their destination, for that matter.
No one beyond the people involved in this heinous act did.
Maybe Lane or his cohort knew, but expecting either one of them to talk, assuming they were still alive, was likely wishful thinking.
If they were dead…Trinity might be alive.
An ache swelled in her chest.
She didn’t love him anymore. The very idea, after five years, would be ridiculous. But she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
But they were over. Way over.
After five years she had come to the conclusion that what happened was not his fault any more than it was hers. They had been young…it had just happened.
She’d lost the baby. Three months pregnant and…she’d lost it. He hadn’t forced her to go to work that day. It had been her decision. That he’d gotten caught in traffic and hadn’t made the rendezvous in time hadn’t been his fault. She had known it then but it had been a lot easier to blame him than to blame herself. And in all likelihood it was just random bad luck.
Her entire life, everything she’d loved had been taken from her. Her father in a freak car accident when she was five and then her mother from cancer when Von had only been thirteen. On Christmas Eve, at that.
Where had God been when she’d needed him?
Time had passed and she’d let it go. It hadn’t been God’s fault. It just was. Von had made up her mind that it was best not to let herself care too much about anything. No risk involved that way.
Then she’d met Trinity. She’d fallen so hard for him. She’d been eighteen and full of eagerness to explore every aspect of life.
Two weeks later they had gotten married. So, painfully young. So very much in love.
They’d worked for a friend of Trinity’s in the bail bonding business. Von had loved her work…loved even more that she worked most of the time with Trinity.
She shouldn’t haven taken the same old risks after discovering she was pregnant. She should have been more careful.
Her hand went to her abdomen as if, even now, she could feel the pain. God had let her down again.
She hadn’t trusted Him since.
Just stop.
Von cleared the past from her mind and summoned the image of the blonde from back at the transfer facility. Von knew that face. But for the life of her she couldn’t think from where.
A whimper drew her attention to Lily. The lighting was dim, but Von’s eyes had adjusted hours ago.
The whimpers evolved into sobs and Von crawled over to where she lay. If the other girls woke, she’d have a real problem on her hands.
“Hey.” She swept a wisp of blond hair from the little girl’s damp cheek. “You can’t sleep?” Von knew that considering all the child had been through with her insane father and then these criminals it was no wonder she was having nightmares.
Lily shook her head. “I’m scared the bombs’ll go off.”
Bastards. “We’re okay right now. Here.” Von scooted in next to her and pulled the child against her chest. “Maybe we can go to sleep together.”
“I want my mommy,” Lily murmured.
Von swiped the tears from Lily’s cheek. “Well, I just happen to know that your mommy’s looking forward to seeing you, too. She’ll be waiting for you when we get back home.”
“What about the bad men?” Lily whispered. “They said we can’t go back home.”
“You don’t worry about what those bad men say,” Von said firmly. “I’m taking all of you home. Now, let’s go to sleep.”
“Tell me a story?”
Von wanted to say no. She’d put children’s stories and all that stuff out of her mind a long time ago.
“Please, Miss Von,” another little voice said. “Tell us a story.”
“My stories aren’t very good,” Von hedged. How the heck had she gotten into a situation like this? She didn’t even like kids. Not really. She’d made the decision after losing her baby. It made life simpler. Besides, she was a career-focused single woman.
And she liked it that way.
Pleas echoed around the group that was supposed to be sleeping.
She was outnumbered.
“Fine, fine,” Von surrendered. “I’ll tell you a story, but then someone has to tell me a story.”
One that involved Trinity showing up to save the day.
Now where had that thought come from?
“Once upon a time,” she began.
“Not that kind of story,” Tara protested.
Now they were going to tell her how to tell the story?
“When I was a kid,” Von cautioned the girls, “all good stories started with once upon a time.”
“We want to hear your story,” April said.
“Did the bad men ever take you when you were a little girl?” another asked.
She could tell them the one her aunt had told her, that God had taken Von’s mother on Christmas Eve because he needed another angel. Or the one about how Von couldn’t stay with her aunt and cousins because they didn’t have enough room. Foster homes were far better for little orphaned girls.
Or maybe she should tell the one about how she’d lost the one thing she’d wanted more than anything else in this whole wide world—her baby.
How life wasn’t fair.
How no one could be trusted with your heart.
“Miss Von?”
Von blinked away the bad memories. “Okay.
How about I tell you about my adventures as Von the superhero?”
“You’re a superhero?” Tara asked.
“Like in the movies?” Lily wanted to know.
“Maybe not that super,” Von confessed, “but I’ve had my share of adventures where I rescued someone in trouble.” She’d failed as a daughter and a wife and a mother. But she was damned good as a rescuer.
“Like when you tried to hide us from the bad men?” April asked.
“Yeah,” Von said. “And like I’m here with you right now. I’m not leaving you. I’ll keep trying to rescue you until I get the job done.”
And she would.
No matter how badly her childhood, or any other aspect of her life, had stunk. Von Cassidy was a good guy—gal. She rescued those who needed rescuing.
That was her job.
If she were really, really lucky, Trinity would show up to give her a hand.
“There was a little girl named Evonne,” she began. “She couldn’t
spell her name so her mom shortened it to Von.”
Giggles rippled around the group.
“When she was only six years old and in first grade she had to rescue a white rabbit.”
A dozen questions bombarded her. What was the rabbit’s name? Where did she go to kindergarten? How big was the rabbit? Did the rabbit have a mom and dad? And so on.
As Von lost herself to the silly story of the last week of first grade, she couldn’t help thinking that her poor old teacher had about lost her mind trying to find that darned rabbit.
Maybe some parts of her childhood weren’t so bad.
If she lived through this she would have to tell Trinity the rabbit story.
Chapter Fourteen
Colby Agency, Chicago, 10:01 a.m.
“Jim.”
Jim roused from a deep sleep, the first he’d had in twenty-four hours. He straightened and blinked. He’d fallen asleep at his desk. “What’s wrong? Have we heard from Barrett or Von?”
“Nothing yet.” Ian Michaels stood at his door. “But we may have a situation.”
Jim had known Ian Michaels for a long time. He and Simon Ruhl were seconds in command here at the agency. A former U.S. Marshal, Ian was as dark and mysterious as was Simon, former FBI, but both men were the best in the business of private investigations. If Ian thought they had a situation, then they had a serious situation.
“We need you in the conference room.”
Jim jumped from his chair and strode across the room. When he’d come to his office for some shut-eye, Simon Ruhl had still been interrogating Lane. Apparently he’d learned something new. “What’s going on?”
“Lane claims he has some additional information that he’d forgotten until now.”
Jim shook his head. “Yeah, right. Has Simon had any sleep?”
“Very little. He’s had misgivings about Lane’s statement from the beginning. At this point, he’s quite frustrated.”
Jim was aware that Simon wasn’t convinced of the man’s story. He’d left Simon with the job of digging the truth out of him. “I guess we’ll find out what Lane’s been hiding.”
In the conference room, Simon sat at the long table with Lane. “He refused to talk,” Simon explained, “until you were in the room.” The frustration Ian had spoken of vibrated in his tone.