by Rita Herron
Charlotte inhaled sharply. “Promise me you won’t judge her or share this information with anyone else.”
Lucas brushed his hand over hers to keep her from fidgeting with her hair again. Seeing her touch it made him want to run his fingers through the long, dark strands.
Damn. He was becoming infatuated with her.
“I promise. I would never do anything to hurt you or one of your students.”
She nodded, then released a breath. “The fifth home Evie was placed in was not a good experience. The foster father molested another girl and came after Evie.”
Lucas gritted his teeth at the images that flashed behind his eyes.
He’d heard this scenario way too many times.
“Then what happened?”
Charlotte lifted her head as if she was looking at him, but a blank expression darkened her eyes. God, he wished she could see him.
“She defended herself,” Charlotte said.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the rest of the story. But he had to. “Go on.”
“She grabbed the old man’s gun and shot him with it,” Charlotte said.
Good for her. “Did she kill him?”
“No, but he was injured pretty badly. Blew off part of his leg.”
So he wouldn’t be chasing any more girls.
“What happened then?”
“The wife called the law. They removed Evie from the home and investigated.”
“What was this couple’s name?” Lucas asked.
“Willamena and Dick Scoggins.”
“How did the investigation play out?”
Charlotte toyed with a strand of her hair. “The other girl backed Evie’s story so they were both placed in other homes. The social worker felt horrible and worked to get the charges against Evie dropped and her record sealed.”
Dammit, he wouldn’t have blamed Evie if she’d killed the monster.
* * *
CHARLOTTE HATED THINKING about Evie living in the house with that awful man. Thankfully she’d made it out.
A shudder coursed through her. Only now she’d landed in the hands of men who might be even worse, men who would sell her to others and force her into sex slavery.
The mere idea made bile rise to her throat.
“Please tell me that bastard is in jail,” Lucas said.
“No.” Disgust left a sour taste in her mouth. “He’s in a wheelchair. The prison system didn’t have a facility that could house and protect him from other prisoners, so he’s free.”
She had no sympathy for the man. Anyone who preyed on innocent children and females deserved to be taught a lesson.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Lucas said. “The bastard could have wanted revenge against Evie and found a way to steer the kidnappers in her direction.”
“I’d hate to think that he was that evil,” Charlotte said. “But I suppose it’s possible.”
A knock sounded and a male voice said, “I’m ready for duty.” Deputy Bronson, Charlotte thought.
“Great,” Lucas said. “I need to leave for a while.”
Charlotte rubbed her hand over her eyes. “I’m being released today.”
“Are you ready for that?” Lucas asked.
Was she? No. But she had to face it sometime. “Yes. The doctor has arranged for the vision-rehabilitation therapist to meet me and help me acclimate.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know yet,” Charlotte said. “Sometime late afternoon.” She needed to call Honey and ask her to pick up some clothes for her.
“I’ll be back to drive you home.”
Charlotte tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s not necessary. Deputy Bronson can drive me.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Lucas’s firm voice indicated the discussion was closed.
Charlotte bit her lip. Did she really want Lucas to witness her clumsy attempts to get around in her own home?
Worse, how would she stand being in her house once his scent invaded her space? Already, at night, she’d begun to associate it with comfort. Safety.
She’d even begun to imagine that he wanted to protect her because he cared about her.
That was foolish. She was simply a witness in a case he needed to solve. He probably hoped that she’d eventually remember something helpful.
She closed her eyes and willed that to be true.
But her mind was an empty void, dark and blank, just like the space in front of her eyes.
* * *
LUCAS SHIFTED AND jammed his hands in his pockets. Why didn’t Charlotte want him to drive her home? Did she dislike him for some reason?
That thought made his gut churn.
Deputy Bronson would easily handle the task. Yet for some reason, Lucas wanted to do it himself.
He wanted to be the one to protect her. He wanted to be there if she needed someone...
Whoa... What the hell was wrong with him? He knew better than to get involved with a witness in a case he was investigating.
The last two nights when Charlotte had awakened in the throes of nightmares, reliving the shooting/kidnapping, he’d held her in his arms and she’d relaxed against him. He’d told himself he simply wanted to comfort her.
But the hard truth was that he liked holding her. He liked the way she felt against him. He liked the soft, sweet scent of her skin and the way her hair felt when it brushed his cheek, and the whisper of her sultry voice rasping his name as she drifted back to sleep.
Deciding he definitely needed some air and space from Charlotte, he told Bronson he’d be back and headed outside. He phoned Keenan on the way to his car and asked for the address for the Scogginses.
The house was about twenty miles from Dead Man’s Bluff.
The summer heat had lifted, the temperature was cooling to the sixties, and the first signs of fall were showing in the leaves as he drove toward the address. Soon the colors would be vibrant reds, oranges and yellows before fading to brown.
Would Charlotte get to see them?
He followed the GPS and turned onto a narrow dirt road that led out to farmland and mountain. Thirty miles later he reached a dilapidated wooden house that sat by a rotting barn. A rusted black pickup was parked beneath a dilapidated carport that was tilting to the right.
He parked and waited until the dust settled around his vehicle before he walked up to the porch. The boards squeaked as he climbed the steps, and he knocked on the screen door.
It took five minutes and knocking three more times before the man’s wife answered.
“Mrs. Scoggins,” Lucas said as he flashed his badge. “I need to talk to you and your husband.”
“What the hell for?” She folded her bony arms and glared at him.
“Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking,” Lucas said.
She huffed, opened the door and grabbed a cigarette pack as she led him through a run-down kitchen to a living room that reeked of old furniture and dust. Every imaginable surface was covered in dirty clothes, yellowed newspapers, cigarette wrappers and overflowing ashtrays.
The woman lit up, then sank into a rocker beside her husband. Scoggins puffed on his own cigarette from his wheelchair. The man narrowed his eyes and sneered.
Lucas identified himself. “I’m sure you’ve heard that four girls were kidnapped from the art studio in Tumbleweed a few days ago.”
The old man shrugged. “So. What’s that got to do with us?”
“One of the girls was named Evie. She lived with you for a while.” He glanced pointedly at the wheelchair. The man’s wife stiffened and stubbed the butt of her cigarette into a coffee cup.
The old man snarled. “That’s a mean one. Can’t say I feel too sorry for her.”
Lucas’s blood ran cold. He scanned the room fo
r a computer, but the only electronic thing in the room was the television and it was ancient. The phone was an old rotary. “Do you own a cell phone?” Lucas asked.
The couple exchanged confused looks. “You drove out here to ask me if I have a cell phone?” the man snarled.
“Just answer the question. Do you have a cell phone or a computer?”
“Do we look like we do?” Mrs. Scoggins said sarcastically. “Hell, since they took the kids away, we can barely afford to keep the electricity on.”
Pure rage shot through Lucas. He hated people who used the system. They took money under the guise of caring for children, yet they spent the money on booze or cigarettes or drugs, not the kids.
“You’re lucky you’re not in jail.” Lucas leaned over the old man in an intimidating stance. “Now, tell me what the hell you know about the human trafficking ring that kidnapped those girls?”
Chapter Nine
“Either leave or I’m calling my lawyer,” Mr. Scoggins said sharply.
“That’s what cowards like you do,” Lucas said. “Hide behind the law when you have no respect for it in the first place.”
“Get out,” Scoggins shouted.
Lucas folded his arms, then faced the wife. “If you or your husband had anything to do with the kidnapping in Tumbleweed, I’ll find out, and you’ll pay. But if you cooperate and tell me what you know, I’ll see that you get a deal.” It wouldn’t be a good one, but he’d find some piddly compensation.
“Look at us,” Mrs. Scoggins said. “We live in the middle of nowhere. We have no computer or internet. We can’t live in town because Dick had to register for that damn stupid sex-offender list. And we sure as hell don’t have company. That hateful girl cost us all our friends.”
“You and your husband abused innocent children,” Lucas said through gritted teeth. “Your behavior is what cost you friends.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” she hissed.
“Oh, yes, I do. I’ve met others like you. You and your husband use the foster system to support your habits. You abused the children, then blamed them. You hated Evie, and the entire foster system. Maybe you sold out Evie to get revenge.”
She cut her eyes away from him and stared out the back window.
Scoggins wheeled his chair in front of Lucas. “I told you to get out, and I meant it.”
Lucas glared at him. “I’m leaving, but if I find out you’re lying and that you had something to do with the abduction in Tumbleweed, I’ll be back.” He put his hands on each side of the man’s wheelchair and leaned into his face. “And this time, I’ll make sure you’re locked away. This place will look like a resort compared to where you’ll be going.”
Mrs. Scoggins flinched, but her bastard husband lifted his chin in a dare. “You ain’t got nothing on me.”
Lucas dropped a business card on the table in front of the wife. “Call me if you decide to do the right thing.”
With a derisive look, he turned and headed back to the door.
“If you come back, I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you’re harassing us!” Scoggins yelled.
Lucas chuckled to himself. Let him call the sheriff.
Harrison had a baby on the way. He’d always felt responsible for Chrissy, and for Lucas and his two other brothers.
Just like him, Harrison had no tolerance for predators and pedophiles.
* * *
CHARLOTTE RUBBED A finger over the stitches on her forehead, blinking in a futile attempt to alleviate the throbbing in her head. She despised taking painkillers. They made her sleepy and put her in a fog.
She needed to be clearheaded, to remember details about the kidnapper.
And she had to concentrate on learning to survive in a sightless world.
She and the vision therapist, Rebecca Cain, had been working for what seemed like hours. Rebecca explained tips that would help her manage her life at home and agreed to meet her there to help her get oriented.
“It will be important to keep your furniture and belongings in a specific place,” Rebecca said. “Once you master maneuvering the house on your own, a chair or food item in the wrong place could throw you off.”
“I understand,” Charlotte said. “Although I like to be creative in my art, I am an organizer.”
“Good, that’s half the battle.” Rebecca paused. “The real work will take place when we get you home. But for now, I want you to visualize the interior of your house. Picture the rooms, the layout, the location of the doors and closets.”
Silly for her to close her eyes, but it was a habit she utilized when mentally picturing places, objects and scenes she wanted to paint.
“You’re at the front door,” Rebecca said. “What do you see?”
This was easy compared to forcing herself to remember the kidnapping. “My friend Honey renovated the house.” Charlotte smiled as she remembered the two of them poring over the plans. “She gutted the interior and created an open concept. Hickory floors, a big open room with a living area to one side, a kitchen with an island and bar stools connects to the living area. There’s a fireplace on the far wall in the den with a vaulted ceiling.”
“And your furniture?” Rebecca asked.
Charlotte could feel the soft leather of the camel-colored sofa. “A sectional sofa with a coffee table made from reclaimed wood. I...whitewashed it myself.”
“Sounds lovely,” Rebecca said. “Go on.”
“I mounted a TV above the fireplace.” She paused, emotions fluttering in her chest. “I guess I won’t need that.”
“You can still listen to it,” Rebecca pointed out.
“I like music,” Charlotte said. “My Bluetooth speaker connects to my playlists. I usually listen to that instead of the TV anyway.”
“Good. Imagine yourself walking through the living area. Where is your bedroom from there?”
“When you enter the house, there’s a wide hall that leads to my room and an en suite. A guest bathroom opens to the hall and a guest room. A third room with floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors leading to the backyard lets in natural light. I use that room as my studio. You can see woods and the mountains in the background.”
“Sounds beautiful,” Rebecca said. “Do you have a back deck or porch?”
“A deck,” Charlotte said. “I like to sit outside and watch the sunset in the evening.” Her voice cracked. She would miss those sunsets and the view of the mountains and the trees and...the colors. It was fall and soon the leaves would be changing.
She mentally formed a snapshot from past memories but already the image seemed muddy.
Would she eventually forget the subtle nuances and shades of colors?
* * *
LUCAS STOPPED BY Harrison’s office after he left Scoggins. Too bad the man had survived that gunshot wound. He deserved to be six feet under.
He relayed his conversation with the couple to his brother.
“They do live on the outskirts of town,” Harrison said. “Unless they managed to use a computer elsewhere, I don’t see how Scoggins could have made contact with the kidnappers.”
Unfortunately, he didn’t, either. Which pissed him off. He almost wanted the old man to be involved so he could punish him for what he’d done to Evie and that other child.
“How about the library or bookstore?” Lucas asked. “Do they have computers for public use?”
Harrison adjusted his Stetson. “Yes. I’ll talk to the owner of the bookstore and Carmella Jones at the library and find out if Scoggins used their internet.”
“Better get warrants, so we can search the computers,” Lucas said. “If we find something, we sure as hell don’t want to have to let that pervert walk.”
“True.” Harrison stepped aside to call the judge and Lucas walked to Harrison’s office. A corkboard above his brother’s desk
held flyers and pictures from other cases across the state and nation.
The mountains and wilderness areas of Texas provided a perfect refuge for those wanting to live off the grid and hide.
Another board held photos of the missing teens.
The young faces spoke to Lucas and made his heart ache. How many times had they looked at his sister’s picture over the years and prayed she was still alive? How many times had he imagined the worst?
Although her life had been taken way too soon, at least Chrissy had had family who cared for her. Family who’d never given up looking for her.
In cases of human trafficking, oftentimes the girls were runaways or homeless and no one missed them enough to report them. Eventually, the search went cold and the cops and feds moved on to other cases.
“I promise you—Evie, Mae Lynn, Adrian and Agnes—that I won’t give up. I’ll keep looking until we rescue you.”
Footsteps echoed behind him, and Harrison appeared. “Getting the warrants. The owner of the bookstore said she hadn’t seen Scoggins, but she’s pulling records of everyone who used the public computers and will send me the list. I’m still waiting on Carmella to call back about the library.”
“We may be chasing false leads,” Lucas said, his tone gritty. “But we have to do something.”
His phone buzzed. The medical examiner’s office.
Lucas quickly connected. “Special Agent Hawk.”
“I have an ID on the girl you found.”
“Who is she?” Lucas asked.
“Her name is Louise Summerton. She’s from Sky Falls, fifteen years old.”
Sky Falls was a small town about an hour away. “Was she in the system?” Lucas asked, wondering how he’d IDed her so quickly.
“Yes, but not for a crime. Her parents reported her missing a month ago, said she ran off with her boyfriend. They provided a DNA sample when they filed the report.”
Lucas heaved a wary breath. The boyfriend could have killed her, meaning she wasn’t related to their current case. Or...he could be involved in the trafficking ring somehow. He couldn’t discount any possibility.
“What was cause of death?”