by Diana Palmer
“That’s not true,” Tray hissed. “She sold me. That’s how Father got all of us. He saved us from the people who threw us away.”
Brody flinched beside her, and she let him speak. “That’s not true,” Brody said. “I love my brother and want him back. I know your mother feels the same way.”
Julie removed the photographs from her bag and held them up one by one. “Jeremy was the first boy we believe this man, your father, kidnapped. He started twenty years ago.”
Fear drew the muscles in RJ’s face. “Next came this boy, Carl Fanning, then Daryl Derwin, Anthony Putnam and after that Jeff Wickman.” She flashed the photo from when they were taken then the age progression sketch, watching for Tray’s reaction. He gripped the sheet tighter with each sketch she showed. “Next he took Phil Jasper, then Will Bloodworth, then five years ago, you joined his family.”
Anguish blended with fear in Tray’s eyes, and he made a small sound in his throat.
“Two years ago he added Lewis Renz, and just a few days ago, he took six-year-old Hank Forte.”
Tray’s face paled at the sight of Hank’s photograph.
“His parents have been all over the news begging people to help them find their son.”
“We know he beats you, abuses you,” Brody interjected. “Maybe he brainwashes you, and that little Hank is suffering now. He’s terrified and wants his mother and father just like you did five years ago.”
Julie showed him a picture of Hank’s parents. “These are the Fortes. They are devastated over their son’s disappearance, just like your mother was.” Then she removed another picture from her stash and held it up in front of him. “This is your mother, Tray. She loves you and has never given up looking for you. She wants you back just like Hank’s parents want him back.”
Emotions suddenly flooded Tray’s face. “He told us our parents sold us, that they didn’t want us.”
“He lied to you,” Julie said giving his hand another squeeze. “He told you those things to make you trust him, to make you depend on him. He wanted you to believe that so you wouldn’t try to escape.”
“He locked us up,” Tray admitted, his voice cracking. “He… If we didn’t obey he punished us. When Kyle got caught, he…beat all of us.”
Brody cleared his throat. “He’s a bad man,” he said in a gruff tone. “Tell us where to find him, and we can get all the boys back with their families.”
“How many boys live with your father now?” Julie asked.
Tray sniffled, wiping at his eyes with his uninjured hand. “Five.”
Five. But there were ten missing… “So he has Jeremy, Will, you and Hank?”
“I didn’t count Jeremy cause he…he helps him.”
Julie’s throat constricted. So she’d been right. “He helped lure Hank to your father?”
Tray gave a small wary nod. “And Renny.”
Julie narrowed her eyes then showed him the pictures. “Which one is Renny?”
His finger shook as he pointed to the photo of Lewis Renz.
“There’s one more,” Julie said. She laid out the photos. “Who else is with him?”
He pointed to the picture of Phil Jasper.
Brody released a pent up breath. “What happened to the others?”
Tray gripped the sheet into a knot and looked down, his body trembling. “He got rid of them.”
Julie clenched her hands into balls. “What do you mean?”
Tray closed his eyes. “They disappear,” he whispered in a haunted voice. “And they don’t come back.”
*
BRODY’S BLOOD TURNED to ice, his worst fears confirmed. This monster killed the boys who didn’t cooperate. Or he killed some of them just to make a point.
What would he do to Will when he went back? And why would Will go back if he knew that the man might kill him?
“Will’s going back to save the others, not because he’s loyal to this man,” Brody said, the truth dawning. “Is that right, Tray?”
Tray shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Is he protective of the others, or does he help this man you call Father kidnap other boys?”
Tray rubbed at the bandage on his arm. “He doesn’t help like Jeremy,” he said. “Kyle…I’ve seen him take a beating so the little ones don’t have to.”
Emotions flooded Brody. In spite of all he’d suffered himself, Will was strong and was trying to protect the others. Trying to save little Hank.
Julie gripped his hand as tension rippled through the air. “Tray, if you help us find Will and tell us where this man is holding the others, we can work out a deal for you.”
“I won’t go to jail?” Tray asked.
Brody released a pained breath as he waited on Julie’s reply. This kid didn’t belong in jail; he’d already spent years in prison.
“No, you won’t go to jail,” Julie said. “We’ll see that you’re reunited with your mother and receive the help you need to become a family with her again.”
She meant counseling but she had deftly avoided the word. All the boys would need it, including Will.
But first they had to find the monster who’d kidnapped them.
“Do you have a mother, a woman who lives at the house?” Julie asked.
Tray shook his head. “Just Father.”
“What is his name?” Brody asked.
Tray shrugged. “We just call him Father.”
“But he has a job, doesn’t he?” Julie asked. “You get bills? Have you ever seen his name on one of them?”
“No,” Tray said. “He locks everything in his room. We aren’t allowed in there.”
“Where do you live?” Brody asked. “A house? Farm?”
“It’s a compound,” Tray said. “Like a camp only with barbed wire and cells.”
“Cells?”
“Yeah, in the barn.” He tugged at his bandage. “And there’s a trailer where he goes sometimes.”
“A trailer?” Julie asked.
Tray nodded. “He smells when he comes back.”
Brody’s stomach revolted. “Smells like what?”
“I don’t know. Like smoke, some kind of chemicals maybe.”
“He might be cooking meth,” Julie guessed.
“How do we get there from here?” Brody asked.
“I…don’t know,” Tray said.
“But you left the place to go rob those stores,” Julie said.
Tray twisted the sheet again, fear darkening his eyes. “Father doesn’t let us go out on our own. He blindfolds us and drives us to the spot, then puts us out near the target store. When we’re done, we meet him down the street.”
Disgust filled Brody. So this monster threatened them, beat them, then blindfolded them so they couldn’t lead anyone back to him if they were caught?
How in the hell were they going to find out where he kept the boys if Tray couldn’t tell him? And what was happening to Will now?
If this monster thought Will had talked, would he kill him when he went back?
*
WILL FOUGHT THE instinct to run as Jeremy parked at the compound. Father had found a new place for them since he’d been caught.
This place had buildings made of concrete. The windows were boarded up.
There would be straps and chains inside just like the other place. Straps, chains and darkness.
An image of the BBL flashed through his head. There were beautiful pastures, stables, a creek, barns and a nice house. No barbed wire fences except to keep the cattle from wandering.
No boarded up windows. No chains in the bedroom. And a real kitchen where that nice Ms. Ellen cooked good-smelling pies and smiled at the kids when they came through the line to get food. They could get as much as they wanted, too. Then they told stories around a campfire and sang songs and went to bed on cots with real blankets and soft sheets.
But here there would only be the hard cold floor.
It was the way a soldier lived, Father told them.
And the
pit—the pit made soldiers out of boys. Soldiers who knew how to survive if the enemy caught them.
His breath rattled in his chest. Brody didn’t treat the campers like soldiers though. He treated them like…he was their buddy.
Had Brody told him the truth? Would he help him if he escaped this compound? Would he help the others?
He had tried his best to remember how Jeremy had gotten here in case he had a chance to run.
But he couldn’t leave without the others. He’d never live with himself if they got killed because of him.
Jeremy opened the truck door, and Will opened his own, every muscle in his body tensing as they entered the compound. He didn’t see little Hank or Tray or the other two boys outside, but then Father rarely allowed them out.
He prayed they weren’t all in the pit.
Jeremy nudged him through the gate, careful to lock it behind them, then Father stepped from the house.
His ice-cold eyes bore holes in Will, the leather strap he had slung over his shoulder slapping against his shoulder as he came to a stop in the dirt.
Brody’s words traipsed through his head. I love you, Will, I’ve never stopped looking for you. No one on my staff ever lays a hand to one of the campers.
He hoped Brody hadn’t lied. That he would keep looking for him.
But for now, Will had to be here, had to take whatever punishment Father doled out.
Unless Father decided to kill him.
Then Will would fight back. Because for the first time in years, he didn’t want to die.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Julie fought panic. Will and the others were in danger. They had to hurry. With everything Tray had admitted, this unsub might just kill Will and the others, then disappear.
Then he’d resurface somewhere else, and he would continue his sick business, stealing other children from their families.
“Tray, what else can you tell me about where you live? Were there any neighbors around?”
He shook his head.
“What about any landmarks? Do you remember anything distinct? Is the compound near a river? Creek?”
“I don’t know,” Tray said, “We aren’t allowed outside the fence.”
“How about school?” Brody asked. “Did any of you attend school?”
“No, Father said the teachers brainwash kids. That they wouldn’t understand our army.”
“Army?” Brody asked.
Tray nodded. “He said God wanted men to have an army of men.”
The unsub was obviously demented, maybe delusional.
“Tray, what kind of vehicle does your father drive when he takes you to rob the stores?” Julie asked.
Tray’s eyes looked heavy, exhaustion evident on his face. “I know you’re tired and you’ve been through a lot, Tray, but I need to ask you just a few more questions, then we’ll leave you and let you rest. Okay?”
He nodded, pulling at the bandage as if it was bothering him.
“Was it a car, a truck? An SUV?”
“A van, black,” Tray said. “The windows were tinted.”
“What about the license plate?” Julie asked. “Do you remember the number? Was it a Texas tag?”
Tray’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “I don’t know,” he said. “He changed it before we went out. I think he took tags off a junkyard.”
Hope jolted through Julie. “Thank you, Tray, that might be helpful.”
Tray yawned, and Julie patted his arm. “Hang in there, buddy, everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.”
He gave her a tentative smile, then was asleep within seconds.
“Let’s go, Brody. I want to get someone on that van right away.”
“What about the junkyard?”
“That, too. If this bastard steals tags, he must not live far from a place where he can get them. We’ll start looking for deserted areas near every junkyard in Texas.”
And hope that they found Will and the others before their unsub panicked and disappeared—with or without those boys.
But at least there was one bright spot in the day—once they ran his DNA, they could contact Mrs. Goodner and tell her they had found her son.
*
BRODY FOLLOWED JULIE out to the waiting room where she phoned Chief Hurt and told him about the van. “Have Tech locate all the junkyards around San Antonio and Amarillo, then search for farmland, deserted houses or ranches, any place that is slightly off the grid where our unsub could hold his victims without anyone noticing what’s going on.” She hesitated. “Also, pull all the footage from the security cameras from the robberies. Look for a black van, tinted windows, nearby. Apparently the unsub drove the boys to the targeted stores and waited to pick them up. We might be able to get a shot of the unsub.”
She shifted, digging some coins from her purse. “Yes. Really, that was fast.” She rubbed her forehead. “All right, thanks.”
When she hung up, Brody shoved his hands in his pockets. “What?”
“The boy in that bed is definitely Tray Goodner. Apparently he was fingerprinted when he was a child in one of those school programs to document kids, and the prints they took at the crime scene are a match.”
“So you can let his mother know?”
“Chief Hurt already contacted her. She’s on her way here now.” Julie dropped the coins in the coffee machine and waited on it to fill the cup. “Finally a bright spot in this mess.”
*
“WHAT’S GOING to happen to Tray?”
“I’ll talk to the D.A., make him a deal.”
Brody’s mind raced. He would help the family if he could.
“I’m going to call my friend Johnny. He has a helicopter. Maybe he and Miles can scout out some areas for us.”
Julie caught his arm. “Good, I’ll have the analyst send whatever they find to Detective McGregor, but tell them if they see anything suspicious, to let us know. They are not to go in without backup.”
“Got it.” Brody stepped aside to phone Johnny and Miles. He got them both on the line and gave them a rundown of the situation.
“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Johnny said. “I’ll gas up the chopper and be ready to go in half an hour.”
“We’ll find Will, Brody,” Miles assured him. “Don’t worry. He survived all these years because he’s a tough kid like his brother.”
Brody’s throat thickened. These men might not be brothers, but they were close to it. And they lived by the cowboy code of honor.
He wanted to teach that code to Will, prove to him that not all men were monsters, that some were honorable. They respected their women and children and protected them instead of using and abusing them.
“Julie—Agent Whitehead—said her team will send you coordinates of where to search,” Brody said.
“Hell, Brody, we know Texas. We’ll start looking for junkyards and deserted farmland right away.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Brody said.
Johnny cleared his throat. “No thanks necessary. You helped both of us when we needed it, and you gave us the privilege of working with the BBL.”
Brody didn’t know what to say to that. All the men who’d invested so far had made the place a success because they wanted to be there, not because of some duty or paycheck. They really cared about these troubled kids.
“Keep me posted. Oh, and guys, if you see anything suspicious, call me and Julie, and I will meet you there. She said to tell you not to go in on your own.”
They agreed. The elevator doors slid open just as he ended the call, and a short woman with long brown hair, probably in her forties, raced in. She hurried to the nurse’s station, wiping at tears on her cheeks. “My son… I received a call from the TBI, my son is here.”
Julie was on the phone, so he nudged her. “That must be Tray’s mother.”
She nodded, ended the call, then the two of them met the woman at the nurse’s desk.
“Mrs. Goodner?” Julie asked.
&n
bsp; The woman’s dark skin indicated she was part Hispanic. Apprehension warred with relief in her eyes. “Yes, my son, Tray, he’s been missing five years. You found him?”
Julie nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We did.”
Mrs. Goodner practically collapsed against Julie on a sob. “I can’t believe it. I gave up.” Her eyes turned toward Julie. “But he is alive?”
Julie coaxed the woman into a chair in the waiting room and Brody joined them.
“Where is he?” She gripped Julie’s arms. “I have to see him. I have to give him a hug…”
“I know you’re anxious,” Julie said. “And I’ll take you to him in just a moment. But we need to talk first.”
Terror replaced the relief, and Mrs. Goodner began to tremble. “What? Where has he been? Is he hurt?”
Julie soothed her with soft whispered words, then explained how they had found Tray and what they believed had happened to him. “He has been abused,” Julie said, her own voice cracking at the look of pain on Mrs. Goodner’s face, “but he’s strong and he’s helping us try to find out where his abductor is holding the other boys.”
“Others?” Mrs. Goodner cried. “How many others?”
“So far we think there have been ten over a twenty-year period, but we can’t be sure until we catch him,” Julie said.
“My little brother is one of them,” Brody said, earning a compassionate look from the woman. “His name is Will. He and Tray were seen stealing from the convenience store together. And I think that the two of them protected the younger kids.”
“Your son is very brave,” Julie said. “But he will need therapy, Mrs. Goodner.”
Her face looked tortured. “I…don’t have insurance for that, but somehow I’ll find a way.”
Brody patted her hand. “Mrs. Goodner, I run a ranch called the BBL. It’s a home with camps for troubled boys. I have counselors on-site there, and we have activities like horseback riding and calf roping that boys can do. It would be my honor if you and your son would stay there when he’s released from the hospital. You can live in one of the cabins and Tray can receive counseling.”
“But how do I pay you?”
“I have a scholarship fund,” Brody said. “And since your son and my brother were friends, I think he’s earned one.”