by Jon Mills
His brow knit together and this time he turned in his chair. Her eyes lit up thinking she had hooked him in. He could barely comprehend what he was hearing.
“Is that your daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your name?”
“Nancy.”
“Nancy, you want to fuck up your life, that’s your own prerogative but if you are offering me what I think you are, then we have a problem.”
“Are you a cop?”
He stared at her, and then grabbed her arm. “Get off.” He slid up her sleeve and looked at the dark needle marks that peppered the inside of her arm. He kept a firm grip on her wrist even as the old guy in the booth turned around to see what all the commotion was about.
“Mister, if you want to start trouble, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the server behind the counter said.
“No problem,” he said releasing his grip. The young woman got up and went over to her daughter. She grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her out of there even though she was protesting that she hadn’t finished her pie. The young woman glared at Jack as she made her way out into the evening.
“You might want to call the cops the next time she’s in, unless of course you like serving prostitutes that pimp out their own daughter.”
The waitress’ eyes went wide and she looked back at the woman and girl who were making their way across the lot towards a banged-up car.
He got up and went over to the phone to make one last call before he headed out. As the phone was ringing, he looked out the window into the night and wondered what the hell this world was coming to. Was it really his job to save everyone? Not everyone could be saved. He felt sorry for the girl. She didn’t choose to have a mother who was a drug addict and there was no way of knowing what that woman had been through that had caused her to turn to drugs. Was everyone just a product of his or her upbringing? Had she been pimped out and in turn thought it was okay to do the same? That didn’t excuse her actions.
“Jack, you can’t keep calling me.”
He went quiet for a minute as he contemplated hanging up. He was emotionally drained by having viewed the underbelly of life. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that it went on, he had seen all manner of sick shit in his time back in New York. The Mafia was notorious for running prostitution rings but at least with them it was all above a certain legal age. Of course that didn’t make it any better or justified in his mind but there was something about stealing a kid’s innocence that affected him deeply.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“You okay?”
It was the first time Isabel actually sounded as though she cared about his well-being.
“You dealt with pedophile rings in the past?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I mean, I’ve dealt with my fair share of people convicted for molestation and been involved in the removal of kids from families but… no.”
The line went quiet.
“This is big, Isabel.”
“What is, Jack?”
He began to fill her in on the turn of events including the death of Stephen, and two other people in the town. Guilt weighed heavy on the mind of criminals, even more on the minds of sexual predators. Isabel told him that it was common for them to commit suicide rather than face jail time. Few survived inside and if they did, their lives would be in solitary confinement. Death was an easy way out, and for some a means of attempting to pay for what they had done.
“Whoever is behind this, they have been very careful up to now as to how they operate. They have safeguards in place, and no doubt they know who I am now.”
A memory of the camera light flickering on the computer came back to him.
“Even more reason to leave this in our hands. You’ve done what you can do. The FBI will take it from here.”
“That’s the thing, Isabel, I don’t think they are going to act in time. By the time they manage to pull whatever information they can from Stephen’s computer, and from phone calls made by the Wellingtons, the ring will be gone.”
“Where are you now?”
“On my way to Nevada.”
She let out a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “Why are you doing this, Jack?”
“I have my reasons. Listen, I’m going to give you an IP address for a file-sharing server that was being used to distribute videos of kids. I’m not sure what you guys can do over at the bureau but perhaps you can look into it. I have a strong feeling that the moment they put Stephen’s computer on, the system is going to be wiped.”
“Jack, I really think you should leave this to us now.”
“Concerned, Agent Baker?”
“No, just…” she trailed off for a second or two. “Where in Nevada are you heading?”
“I’ll let you know when I get there.”
He hung up. He knew it would piss her off but he didn’t want to have her anywhere near this when it blew up and he was pretty damn sure that things were about to get ugly.
It was early morning by the time Jack made it into a town in Nevada called Winnemucca. He’d been on the road for over eight hours and put in close to five hundred miles. He pulled up outside the residence listed on the registration and decided to keep watch on the property from a distance until it was fully light. He had no idea what he was going into. Whoever owned that truck would be aware by now that the police were on to them. It wouldn’t take the police long to track down the owner’s address and get in contact with Nevada authorities.
He had to work fast, before they got out of town and the lead went cold.
Chapter Twelve
Jack was jerked awake by the sound of a garage door opening. A white Taurus slowly reversed out. He slipped out the driver’s side and crouched down behind it as the Taurus pulled out onto the road and sped off. On one hand, he wanted to follow but there was a chance he would lose the guy, and right now his best opportunity to learn more was to get inside. He could hear the garage door coming down; a quick check left and right before dashing across the road, up the short driveway and managing to get his fingers underneath before it closed. The garage door sensor detected something in the way and began to rise again. He slipped underneath and then used the button by the main door to close it. The light that kicked on when the garage was in use was still on. He gazed around unsure of what he was actually looking for. Were the boys being kept inside the home? Was anyone else home? He pulled the Glock, and entered the house. It was quiet inside, only the sound of a grandfather clock ticking could be heard. It was like any typical home, though whoever lived there was a hoarder. The hallway was clogged up with old newspapers. There were hundreds, some stacked from the floor to the ceiling. He picked up one and noted that it dated back to the sixties.
The kitchen sink was jam-packed full of dirty plates, bowls and cutlery. The counters appeared to have never been cleaned and there was a fine layer of dust along the shelves. As Jack pressed on further into the home, he noticed in the living room on a table were several newspapers detailing the disappearances of the two boys. He glanced in the backyard but it was empty. Not even a shed. The grass was almost non-existent and weeds had overwhelmed much of the walkway and flowerbed.
Keeping his gun low he moved swiftly to the stairs and ascended. All the while he was thinking that at any moment someone was going to come out and take a potshot at him. On the walls on the way up were numerous framed photos of a family.
His eyes drifted as he made it to the top. He eased the door open to the first bedroom and saw that the room was dark, and the curtain hadn’t been opened. It smelled like bad body odor. The next room was a bathroom. A stained sink, bath and toilet made it clear that hygiene wasn’t high up on their priorities.
The next room contained a queen-sized bed. It was made and didn’t look as if anyone had slept in it. He exhaled as he came out and made his way down. The only other place to check was the basement. There were no locks, which convinced him that the hou
se wasn’t being used to hold anyone captive. Wherever they had the boys, they would no doubt be locked away in some place that wouldn’t stand out. Behind a false wall or under a trap door in a homemade cellar. Jack had seen all manner of people hide in his time when he came knocking. The majority hid in the attic, under the beds and in closets but the clever ones went full tilt-and created a room that could only be reached by moving another object like a dresser, a portion of a wall, or a bathtub.
Jack switched the light on using a strand of cord hanging close to the doorway. He descended the wooden stairs down into an unfinished basement. As he stared around it looked ordinary enough but that was how they wanted it to appear. Those who wanted to live under the radar went to great lengths to avoid detection, even if it took months and cost an absolute fortune.
Jack began tearing back anything that wasn’t screwed down. He banged with the side of his hand against areas of the wall that looked suspicious and searched through boxes. In all the noise he was making down in the basement he hadn’t heard the owner return.
It was the creak of a door that caught his attention. He stopped in the middle of what he was doing and froze. Had they heard him? The sound of keys being tossed on the ground was followed by a voice. It sounded as though someone was speaking on the phone. The conversation was heated and the man was talking in Spanish. His mind immediately went to the door at the top of the basement. Had he left it open? Shit! The light was on and… the footsteps on the floor stopped abruptly.
“Hello?”
Jack was standing near the back wall when he heard him take a few steps down the stairs, then he stopped. Then in an instant his movement was sudden. He abruptly turned and slammed the door behind him, a lock clicked over just as Jack came running up the stairs. When he reached the door he grabbed the handle but it was locked. He took a step back and gave the door a few sharp kicks. On his fifth attempt the door burst open and he made a beeline for the garage. By the time he made it in, the garage door was closing. He rolled out and saw the guy cast a glance his way. Jack brought up his gun but the car took off, spinning its wheels and letting out an obscene amount of smoke from the exhaust pipe. He could have taken the shot but in a residential area it would have just attracted cops.
Not waiting a second, he sprinted over to his car, and hopped in. He didn’t even glance in his mirrors as he jammed the gear into drive and gunned the engine out of there. He overtook three cars that were between him and the other guy. Each time he swerved out into oncoming traffic, horns were honked and he would swerve back in. When he finally managed to get in front of the traffic and get up behind the Taurus, he must have been clocking over eighty miles an hour. He didn’t want to get into a chase but he had no choice. Miguel wouldn’t return to the house again, not after seeing him. He was the only connection Jack had to whoever might have taken the boys. The roar of the engine deafened him as he tried to avoid pedestrians trying to cross the road. At one point the Taurus went up onto the walkway, forcing pedestrians to jump out of the way. Homes flashed by in his peripheral vision and Jack moved back and forth between accelerating and hitting his brakes.
His rental slammed into the back of the car, sending it careening back onto the road barely missing a cyclist. At one point the car ahead of him ran a red light and slammed into the tail of another car, sending both spinning. For a brief few seconds he thought he had him but the car simply backed up, spun around and tore off into the distance.
The pursuit lasted for what felt like ten minutes though it was probably far less than that.
The driver was heading out of town, going north on East 2nd Street. Jack’s vehicle shot by a speed limit sign of thirty-five. It made him glance at his speedometer. He was now doing ninety. There were fewer and fewer vehicles as they headed out of the city. To his left and right was a barren dessert. Just blue skies, hills and the Winnemucca Mountains in the distance. They were in God’s country and right now he was doing everything he could to catch this guy but failing miserably. Back in the town, the guy had managed to swerve his way past a few vehicles heading south, causing Jack to slam on his brakes. Those few seconds added up and now he was getting further away.
There was nothing out there, just endless road and rugged terrain. A sign flashed up that it was leading to a dead end. Where the fuck was this guy going? Then, a sign came up for a wrecker’s yard just under five miles away. Jack wondered how long he was going to be able to maintain the speed without the engine cutting out.
As if things couldn’t get any worse, in the distance it looked as if a dust storm was beginning to form and the road ahead was veering right into it. He’d never driven into a dust storm. Sure, he had been in areas where it had been dusty but nothing like this. It was like seeing a giant wave of dark clouds rolling across the flat plains straight towards the road. Jack struggled to keep control of his vehicle as harsh winds that appeared to come out of nowhere ripped across the windshield and shook the vehicle.
As he entered the dust storm, he could barely see a damn thing. Visibility was reduced. Only the distant red brake lights of the Taurus he was following could be seen cutting through it like two penetrating eyes. He focused on that as the sky and all the landscape around vanished in a thick brown cloud.
Jack squinted and kept his eyes locked on the lights like a target until he saw him hang a right. Going off road? Was this guy crazy? But it wasn’t that. As soon as he came up to the area that he’d seen the vehicle turn into, he realized where he was heading. It was called Thompson’s Metal Recycling and Wrecker’s Yard.
He veered off and drove through an open gate and slowed the vehicle down to a crawl. It was even worse inside the yard. This was going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. He parked the car close to the entrance, just in case the guy decided he was going to head back out. All around him were columns made up of stacked cars that were soon to be crumpled into a square block and disposed of. The columns were five to ten cars high, creating an impenetrable wall of steel. With the dust blowing through, it was virtually impossible to see anything. Jack took a cloth out of his pocket and covered his mouth as he exited the vehicle with his weapon drawn.
The car made a dinging noise from where he’d left the door open and the engine running. He kept the Glock low by his side as he moved down the dirt road and entered the maze of steel. The only upside to the dust storm was it would provide him with a layer of protection. Hidden in the dust-filled wind that whipped around the cars, he stopped and leaned against some rusted-out vehicle. It was hard to make out anything over the roar of the wind. Dust and grit got in his eyes.
He hadn’t been out of the vehicle more than a few minutes when a bullet ricocheted off a vehicle barely a few feet from him. He dropped to the ground trying to see where it had come from but it was impossible.
He slipped between a stack of vehicles, crossed between the columns and darted again through another set, all the while scanning the area for threats. He was about to turn out into another section of the yard when he saw the silhouette of two men carrying what appeared to be shotguns. That’s some serious firepower for a wrecker’s yard, he thought while staying low. He fished around on the ground with his hand for a loose rock and then tossed it across to the other stack. As it pinged, the two men fired multiple rounds. They began moving in that direction and he waited until they came into view to see if either of them was Miguel. They weren’t. He hadn’t seen them before.
Jack raised his gun and fired at one of them taking him down immediately. The other one didn’t stand a chance. With both of them down, he scurried across the ground and scooped up a Benelli shotgun. He ducked behind cover and once again moved into another position. Right now he was trying to assess how many he was up against.
Another man came rushing over in the direction of where he’d killed the other two. Jack waited this time. The man bent down and brought a radio up to his mouth. He twisted the dial on the top and muttered something before dashing back in the directi
on that he came. This time Jack stalked him, keeping track from behind another stack. When he disappeared out of view into a metal building that was at the far end of the lot, Jack crouched down at the corner before moving in. As he stepped out into the kill zone, several guns fired and one of them clipped him in the arm. He returned fire and hustled for cover. Breathing hard, he was swallowing dust and coughing. He’d lost the rag at some point and with all the dust spinning around it was hard to breathe. He slipped through the window frame of a partially crushed vehicle and took a moment to check his arm. He tore his jacket off and yanked up his shirt. It stung like shit but it hadn’t penetrated the arm, just clipped it and took a small chunk of flesh. It was going to leave a gnarly scar. Covering back up again, he waited for others to come. They always did.
This time he heard the voices.
“Which way?”
“I think he went that way.”
“I’ll go north, you take the south and we’ll swing back around.”
“Gotcha.”
Jack pulled a knife from a sheath wrapped around his leg, he sat still in the darkness of the vehicle and watched the lone figure move past. He gave it a minute or two before he slipped out and followed him like prey. At the slightest sound he spun around nervously. He was on edge and definitely not ready to deal with what Jack was about to bring.
Jack leapt out from a gap between vehicles, clamping his hand over his mouth and digging the knife deep into his neck. His gun went off and Jack quickly slipped back into the dust that wrapped them like a blanket.
“Juan,” a voice called out.
There was running, followed by a scream of anger. A flurry of bullets in every direction snapped and ricocheted off the metal causing sparks to fly.
“Stop firing, you idiot,” the voice of the man he heard back at the house shouted in Spanish. Jack glanced out and spotted him, through the murkiness of dust that filled the air. Jack looked up, then back at the man before deciding to climb.