by Rita Herron
Lucas visually swept the street signs and posts. “Surveillance cameras?”
“Afraid not.”
Damn, that would have helped. “Be sure to ask if anyone saw the getaway vehicle,” Lucas said.
The deputy nodded and addressed the onlookers, holding his hands up to calm the crowd.
Lucas paused in the doorway to analyze the scene. The room was decorated with color palettes and paintings most likely done by students. A brightly lit sign showcasing the name sparkled in deep purple and yellow letters, at odds with the violence that had happened here today.
Worse, the room had been turned upside down in a scene that could only be described as chaotic. Tables, chairs, canvases and paint supplies were scattered across the room. Bullet holes marred the walls and canvases, as if more than one shooter had fired randomly across the space, hitting everything in sight.
Paint tubes, bottles and containers had spilled, the paint running together, converging on the light wood floors in an ugly brown smear.
Footprints in different sizes that must belong to the girls tracked the paint across the floor, indicating the victims had fought back, and that at least one of them had been dragged.
A female’s cowboy boot lay in one corner, obviously lost during the struggle. Beads from a bracelet or necklace were scattered by a bin of paint smocks.
Bloody fingerprints dotted the floor and wall.
“Here’s what I think happened,” Harrison said. “According to the schedule posted in the teacher’s office, Charlotte was conducting a class. Four students.” Harrison gestured toward the door. “Looks like the kidnappers just walked in. No sign of forced entry. Door was probably unlocked.” He pointed toward the pool of blood on the floor. “Owner of the coffee shop/bookstore next door said Charlotte was giving, kind and dedicated to her students.” Harrison ran a hand through his hair, emotion thickening his voice. “Honey would agree to that. She liked what Charlotte was doing here so much that she renovated this space for her at cost.”
Lucas clenched his hands into fists. “Have you told Honey yet?”
Harrison shook his head. “No. I’m not looking forward to it, either.”
Lucas patted his brother’s arm. “She’s strong. Tough. She can handle it.”
“I know, but I...want to protect that woman from everything bad.”
The love in Harrison’s voice twisted Lucas’s insides. The Hawk brothers had all been loners. He’d never expected Harrison to marry. Then Honey came back to town...
Harrison gestured around the room. “Charlotte obviously tried to stop the men, but judging from the number of bullet holes, they were heavily armed and opened fire. While she was down, the men snatched the teenagers and kept firing to prevent Charlotte from following. She passed out on the floor in that pool of blood. My guess is they thought she was hit in the chest and would bleed to death.”
Lucas’s stomach squeezed at the sight of the bloody fingerprints where the woman had crawled to the door. Even injured, she’d tried to save the girls.
“Any specifics on the hostages?” Lucas asked.
“Not yet. We’re working on compiling that information.”
“What about Charlotte? Any family?”
“No. She was alone. That’s what drew her to Honey and these adolescents.”
Damn. Lucas didn’t know the woman, but he already admired her.
He just hoped she survived and could help them. Otherwise, the four teenagers might be lost forever.
Chapter Two
Pain throbbed through Charlotte’s head and body. She tried to open her eyes, but a black void swirled around her and a heavy nothingness dragged her into its abyss.
Machines beeped. Low voices murmured. Metal clanged.
Where was she? What had happened?
“Got the bullet,” a man said. “Need to stop the bleeding.”
Charlotte searched her mind—she must be in surgery...but why?
A burning sensation seeped through her, followed by more darkness and quiet. Then a loud popping sound. Screams. Footsteps pounding. Her paints and canvases crashing.
Her studio, she was back there...the girls were painting, the music flowing, the door opened...
Terror seized her. Strange men stormed in. Men wearing masks. They were dressed in black.
And they had guns...
More screams. She had to save the girls...
The popping sound again. The bullet pierced her. Her head throbbed, colors bleeding together, fading.
Quiet again. Blissful quiet. Except for the voices. Someone touching her. A gentle hand.
“You’re going to make it, Ms. Reacher,” a woman said. “Just rest now.”
Rest? The world twirled, nausea flooded her, then that slow burn again. She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy. Weighted. Something was attached to her arm. An IV.
“The police want to talk to you, but they’ll have to wait. Sleep now.”
Sleep? Rest? How could she? There was something she had to do. Something important.
The screams echoed in her head again. Her students...they needed her.
Terror and despair flooded her. Adrian, Agnes, Mae Lynn...sweet Evie...they were crying, sobbing, begging for help.
* * *
LUCAS PACED THE waiting room, anxious to talk to Charlotte Reacher.
Meanwhile, he phoned Tradd Hoover.
“The art teacher is still in surgery,” he told Tradd. “The studio where the attack happened looked like a war zone. Bullet holes everywhere. My brother, Sheriff Harrison Hawk, is supervising the crime-scene unit.”
“All four girls were foster kids?”
“That’s right.”
“That sucks,” Tradd said. “As if their lives haven’t already been hard enough.” Tradd made a clicking sound with his teeth. “In the other two instances, the kidnappers didn’t leave a witness behind. First abduction took place at a dance camp. Shot the teacher in the back before she even saw what was coming. More bullets were lodged in the floor near the ballet bar where the girls stretched. Five girls were taken, ages twelve to fourteen.”
Good God. Twelve years old? She was just a baby. Innocent. A girl with no idea what the men had in store for her.
“Second attack was outside a Waco high school. Men snuck up on the cheerleading squad as they were walking to their cars after practice. This time they lay in waiting, snatched them one by one. No casualties. Science teacher was leaving about that time and saw the last of the six girls tossed into the back of a black van. Tinted windows. No tag. Driver raced away just as another girl ran around the corner. She was in the bathroom changing or she would have been taken, too.”
“Did she see any of the men well enough to make an ID?”
“Afraid not. She was pretty shook up. Said all she saw was a man’s back and the gun he was holding to her friend’s head.”
“You think we’re dealing with the same men or factions of a larger trafficking ring?”
“Hard to say at this point. Unfortunately there weren’t any surveillance cameras at the dance camp. There were two in the high-school parking lot, but the assailants shot them out.”
Of course they did. “None at the art studio, either,” Lucas said. Although he’d advise Ms. Reacher to install a security system if she reopened the studio. “How are the families holding up?”
“About like you’d expect,” Tradd said. “They’ve seen enough TV and news stories to speculate on what’s happening. None of it’s pretty.”
No, it wasn’t. Most likely they were being drugged and held somewhere until they could ship them out of the country or to perspective buyers. They probably had clients waiting.
His stomach knotted. Too many depraved people in the world, and men who’d pay for sex.
The girls who didn’t go to a buyer wo
uld suffer an equally harsh or worse fate. They’d be put in brothels, forced to work as prostitutes. Treated inhumanely. Beaten. Raped. Sometimes drugged, chained in a room so they couldn’t escape.
“Email me the files, crime-scene photos, information on the victims so I can compare.” Not that he thought the victims or their families had anything to do with this. This read like a professional hit. The ring targeted random groups that were vulnerable, easily accessible and fit a certain type and age range.
Otherwise, they would have also taken Charlotte Reacher.
Instead, they’d left her for dead.
* * *
THE GIRLS WERE SCREAMING. They needed her. She had to help them. Stop the bad men...
Charlotte blinked and tried to open her eyes, but she was so sleepy she couldn’t force them open. A few minutes ago, she’d heard someone talking. The nurse, she said her name was Haley. They were moving her to a room.
She’d been shot. Had a head injury. Had undergone surgery.
She was lucky, Haley said. She was alive.
But what about Evie, Adrian and Agnes, and Mae Lynn?
Tears seeped from her aching eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
A warm hand touched hers. Slid over it and squeezed.
She tensed, then realized it felt good. Comforting.
And she was cold. So cold inside...she shivered.
“Charlotte, my name is Special Agent Lucas Hawk.”
A man’s voice. Gruff. Almost tender. Another squeeze of her hand and she realized the hand belonged to the man speaking.
“I know you’ve been through hell today and you’re exhausted, but I need to talk to you. Need to ask you some questions.”
She blinked, wanting to see his face, but her eyelids slid closed again. The medication must be weighing her down, drawing her back to the darkness. She wanted to stay there, to be numb and forget, to silence the screams.
“I promise you I won’t stay long, but you were shot by some men who came into your art studio. They forced the students in your class to go with them.”
Her lungs squeezed for air. She suddenly couldn’t breathe. She clawed at the bedding, gasping. A machine beeped. Footsteps clattered, then a woman’s stern voice said:
“Sir, you’re upsetting her. You have to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said in a gruff tone. “I won’t stay long, but we need her help. The men who shot her kidnapped four teenagers. Time is of the essence. The kidnappers might be moving the girls out of the country as we speak.”
The woman mumbled something Charlotte couldn’t understand, but the agent’s words taunted her.
She had to do what she could to help find her students.
She moaned and reached for his hand. He took it and stroked her palm. The contact gave her hope, and she forced her eyes open.
But the room was dark. Completely dark.
“I need you to tell me anything you remember,” Special Agent Lucas Hawk said. “Even the smallest details might help—”
His words became garbled as panic seized Charlotte. She blinked furiously, but a cloudy haze of gray and black shrouded her vision. She couldn’t see his face.
Couldn’t see anything but an ominous black.
* * *
LUCAS STIFFENED. Something was wrong.
Charlotte gasped for a breath, her fingernails digging into his palm. “Help...”
He cradled her hand between both of his, tried to soothe her. “You’re safe now, Charlotte. You’re in the hospital and you’re going to be okay.” But those four teenagers weren’t.
Dear God, he hated to push her, but they had to act quickly. The men could be halfway across the state by now.
She pushed at the sheets and grabbed the bed rail with her free hand. “I...can’t see,” she whispered between choked breaths. “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”
Lucas’s pulse clamored. “You mean you can’t see the shooter? You were in the studio, weren’t you? Or did you and the girls hide?”
“No... I was there,” she cried, her chest heaving. “They stormed in and took them. I tried to save them, but the big one shot me and hit me in the head.”
She jerked her hand from his and pressed it to her temple. She winced when she discovered the bandage. Her forehead was bruised and discolored, a knot at her hairline, and she had five stitches.
He leaned over the bed and stroked her arm. “Charlotte, it’s okay, I know it was terrifying and you wanted to save your students. Just tell me what you saw and we can still save them.”
A sob escaped her, painful and heartbreaking. “I couldn’t stop them. I tried to.”
“Shh, I know you did. I saw the studio, bullets were everywhere.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, then stared up at him with terror-glazed eyes. “I did try, but I failed and they’re gone.”
“I’m sorry, that’s why I’m here. I need your help, though.”
“But I can’t see,” she cried again. “I can’t see anything.”
“You mean you didn’t get a good look at the men?”
She shook her head wildly. “No, I mean my vision is gone. I can’t see you or anything in the room.”
A cold chill swept over him. She’d suffered a head injury. The doctor hadn’t mentioned anything about her eyes, but it was possible...
“I’ll get help.” He rushed from the room and spotted the nurse. “Get the doctor. Now.”
His commanding tone made the woman’s eyes widen, then she raced to the nurses station. A second later, a page sounded over the intercom, then she hurried back toward him. He met her in the doorway.
Her disapproving look speared him. “I told you not to upset her.”
“It wasn’t me,” Lucas said between gritted teeth. “She says she lost her vision.”
Alarm flashed on the nurse’s face, and she rushed into the room. Charlotte was lying so still that it sent a bolt of fear through him.
The nurse gently touched Charlotte’s arm. “It’s Haley, your nurse, Ms. Reacher. The doctor is on his way.”
Charlotte turned her head toward the nurse, but the glazed expression in her eyes remained.
Then silent tears began to slide down her cheeks.
* * *
THE VAN THE men had put them in bounced over the ruts in the road and threw Evie against the side of the interior.
She bit back a groan of pain, blinked to stem the dizziness then wrestled with the zip ties around her wrists, but they wouldn’t budge. Hands bound behind their backs, Adrian and Agnes were curled together in the dark corner. Agnes was sobbing while Adrian talked in low whispers to comfort her. Mae Lynn was lying on her side, her eyes glazed in shock.
When those nasty men had thrown them in the van, Mae Lynn had been screaming. One of them had jammed a gun in her face and threatened to kill her. Mae Lynn had gone quiet and hadn’t moved or spoken since.
Terror gripped Evie’s chest in a vise, squeezing her lungs. Ms. Charlotte had been shot. Was she dead?
Tears crowded her throat. No... She couldn’t be. Ms. Charlotte was the only person in the world who cared about them. She helped Evie see that she might have a future. That bright colors and light existed. That she could paint beautiful pictures and express herself through art.
And that she was beautiful even though no family had wanted her as their child.
Agnes’s sobs bounced off the dark walls of the van, drawing Evie back to the situation. She had to stay tough. Do something to get them out of here.
But what?
There were four men, and they were all huge. She barely weighed ninety pounds.
And they had guns.
If she could grab one of those guns, she might be able to force them to release her and the others.
She knew how to sh
oot. That, she’d learned early on.
Everyone thought she was a weakling. But they were wrong.
She’d survived one foster home after another because she studied people. She didn’t know what these men wanted with them, but she had an idea.
A shudder coursed through her, and she squashed the thought.
She’d wait for the right moment, then she’d grab one of their guns. No one knew it, but she’d shot a man once. Foster daddy number five.
She’d had to, or be his bitch. That’s what he’d called it when he took the other fosters to bed.
She wasn’t going to be anybody’s bitch. She’d kill whoever tried to make her into one just like she’d shot that bastard, foster five.
Chapter Three
Lucas gritted his teeth as the nurse shoved him from the hospital room into the hallway. A doctor rushed in, and the nurse joined him, leaving Lucas watching through the small window in the door.
The nurse took Charlotte’s vitals while the doctor shined a light in Charlotte’s eyes. Silent sobs wracked the petite woman’s body, her fear palpable.
Was it possible the only witness to this damn trafficking had been blinded in the attack?
“Lucas?”
His brother’s voice dragged him from his somber thoughts.
“What happened? Is she all right?”
“I don’t know.” Lucas exhaled sharply. “She just woke up from surgery.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“I was trying to, but she got upset and the nurse made me leave.”
“She’s in shock,” Harrison said.
Lucas’s stomach knotted as the doctor tried to calm Charlotte. The nurse injected something into her IV. Probably a sedative.
Lucas folded his arms. “The head injury may have caused her to lose her vision.”
Harrison cursed. “What did the doctor say?”
“He’s examining her now,” Lucas said. “Before then she was pretty groggy. She didn’t say much except that she tried to save the girls, but the men opened fire.”
Damn, he didn’t like the picture that painted.