Outrage (Faith McMann Trilogy Book 2)

by T. R. Ragan

  “I thought the place was boarded up.”

  “It is, but we’re hoping she’ll head back there to retrieve personal items.”

  Faith moved her head from side to side, trying to get the kink out of her neck.

  “The good news is,” Yuhasz continued, “we’ve learned a few things about Diane Weaver. She comes from a large family, including a brother Eric, who has spent a few years in the area.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “So far all known Sacramento addresses for Eric Weaver have turned out to be dead ends.”

  “You call that good news?”

  “We’re working on it,” he said, his tone much more serious. “From what we’ve gathered so far, Diane and her brother have been bad news since they were in their teens. We were able to get in touch with her parents, but they weren’t much help. They haven’t seen Diane or Eric in over a decade, and they have no idea where either of them is living.”

  “If she does have a brother in the area, it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it, that he would be the one to help her by taking Lara—”

  “Like I said, we’re working on it. When I have more information for you, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  Faith waited.

  “Divers believe they might have found your husband’s SUV.”

  “Where?”

  “In the canal in Central Valley. They’ll be pulling the vehicle out in the morning.”

  “Were they able to see inside?”

  “No. The water’s murky. Zero visibility.”

  Faith held her breath. She knew Lara was alive. More than one person had seen her. But Hudson . . . she hadn’t heard a word about Hudson. “I want to be there when they pull it out of the water.”

  “Are you sure? I can call you as soon as it’s pulled out.”

  “No,” she blurted, then paused to catch her breath. “What if he’s in there?” she asked, her voice cracking. “What if they left my son in the car before they dumped it in the canal?”

  “I’ll pick you up in the morning on my way. Does eight o’clock work for you?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Faith hung up the phone. She stood in silence for a moment, did her best to collect herself before she walked into the kitchen, where she found Rage, Jana, and Mom. Dad and Beast were outside, where they had been all day, finishing the final touches on the alarm system. Beast’s father, Little Vinnie, had left a few minutes ago. Mom filled the teakettle with water from the faucet and put it on the stove.

  “That was Detective Yuhasz,” Faith said. “They think they might have found Craig’s car in the canal in the Central Valley a few hours away.”

  Mom’s eyes widened, but before she could ask the question, Faith shook her head. “They won’t be able to see inside until they pull the car from the water. I want to be there when they do. Detective Yuhasz is picking me up in the morning.”

  Nobody said a word, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

  “Where’s Miranda?” Faith asked in hopes of stopping her mind from wandering too far into a black abyss of worry and fear.

  “She’s upstairs watching TV,” Jana said. “I’m worried about her. For months she was held captive, traumatized in who knows how many ways, only to escape a perverted lunatic and then learn that her mother is dead. We need to get her help.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “She needs to talk to someone,” Rage said.

  “My friend, Kirsten Reich, is a therapist,” Jana said. “I’ll see if I can set up an appointment for her, OK?”

  Faith nodded. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to her, too.”

  Faith said nothing.

  “Looks like they’re getting ready for the apocalypse,” Mom said as she stared out the window and watched the men at work.

  “That’s exactly what they’re doing,” Jana said.

  For a moment they all watched Beast and Faith’s dad dig holes for posts and then mix cement, working hard to finish the perimeter fencing that would alert them to anyone moving around the house.

  Rage gestured that way. “I think I’ll go see if they need any help.”

  As soon as she shut the door behind her, Jana looked at Faith and said, “She doesn’t look well.”

  “I do worry about that one,” Mom added.

  A few months ago, Rage had been diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer—stage four astrocytoma. Her days were numbered. “I wish there was something I could do for her,” Faith said.

  They continued to stare out the window.

  “Did you know she has a son whom she gave up for adoption?” Jana asked.

  Faith looked at her sister. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I overheard Rage and Beast talking about him when we were in the command post. They’ve been trying to locate the adoptive parents for years with no luck.”

  The teakettle screeched, sending Mom running.

  “My good friend Dee Dee was adopted,” Jana went on. “After spending years looking for her biological parents, she was able to find and meet them. Her mother and father both had families of their own by then, but she got the closure she wanted, needed. Do you want me to ask her if she can point me in the right direction to help Rage find her son?”

  “Would you?” Faith asked. “That would be wonderful. I’ll pay for it. Whatever it costs.”

  “OK then. I’ll see what she says.” Jana leaned in close and said in a low voice so Mom wouldn’t overhear, “How are finances? With Craig’s business being shut down and you not working right now, I’m worried about you and the whole money situation.”

  Faith wasn’t ready to tell her about the $2 million she’d found stuffed in the pool equipment at the house where her family was attacked. That money was now stashed right outside her parents’ home, way up high in the tree fort where she and her siblings used to play. The less her sister knew, the better. “We had life insurance,” Faith said. “The kids and I will be fine.”

  Mom didn’t pay them any mind. She quietly set the teacups she’d gathered on the table. Ever since Bri and the kids had left for Florida, Mom had been on edge. Colton had yet to return from his latest delivery, and she and Dad had hardly talked since he’d returned from taking Bri to the airport.

  Jana grabbed cream from the refrigerator and sugar from the pantry.

  Faith couldn’t stand to see her mom look so tense. “Maybe it would be best if you and Dad went to Florida, too,” Faith said. “Aunt Valerie has a big enough house. She would love having visitors. And you, too, Jana. You could have the baby without worrying about looking over your shoulder every minute.”

  “You’re not the only one who carries a gun these days,” Jana said. “I’m not going anywhere, but nice try.”

  “Your father would never leave while his kids were in danger,” Mom said. “And despite the fact that your father can be an old fool at times, I would never leave his side.” She looked into Faith’s eyes. “We’re in this together, every one of us.” She pointed a finger at Faith for good measure. “And don’t think for a minute that we’re doing any of this for you. There’s not one of us who could simply move on without doing everything possible to find Lara and Hudson. Let’s finish what we started, and then get on with things.”

  The second Lara saw a car turn into the trailer park and realized it was Eric, she cut to the right, hurried past the front of a trailer home, and hid behind an oak tree. Her heart thumped hard against her chest. The palms of her hands felt sweaty.

  There was no way he’d seen her. She’d been plenty fast, she was sure of it, but then she heard the car come to a screeching halt, followed by the slamming of a car door.

  The tree trunk was wider than she was. She held perfectly still, hardly breathed. Just as she was beginning to think he’d gone the other way, she heard the sound of rubber b
oots crunching against gravel.

  He was coming this way.

  If only she could run as fast as her brother. Hudson could easily reach the road. He would have been able to get away for sure. If she took off running now, she decided, instead of waiting for him to find her, she might have a chance.

  She drew in a deep breath and then went for it. She ran fast, used her arms the way Hudson always told her to. Small rocks and sharp twigs dug into her bare feet as she ran deeper into the wooded area surrounding the park, but she felt hardly any pain. Her only thought was of escaping.

  The harder she pumped her arms, the faster her legs went. She weaved through trees and thick brush, hopped over a trickling creek. The thought of seeing her family again kept her going and filled her with hope.

  She could do this.

  Pain ripped through her shoulder as his fingers dug through her T-shirt and into her skin.

  Her screams were muffled by his other hand now clamped over her mouth. He didn’t bother to drag her to the car. Instead he picked her up and held her tight against him as he walked back to the trailer, where Trista sat quietly, focused on her daytime TV show. From the looks of things, she hadn’t noticed Lara was gone.

  Eric didn’t say a word to Trista. He just kicked his boot right through the TV, putting an end to her show. Trista jumped to her feet, but she knew better than to say anything. Judging by the look in her eyes, she knew she was in big trouble.

  Lara kicked and tried to bite the palm of his hand, which wasn’t helping his temper, but she didn’t care.

  “Grab the fucking duct tape, you dumb bitch!”

  Trista looked frantically about before rushing into the tiny kitchen, where she opened a drawer and found what Eric had asked for.

  He then shoved Lara into one of the two chairs in the kitchen area and told Trista to tape the brat to the chair while he held her in place. Lara kicked him in the shin, and he whacked her across the face with the back of his hand.

  Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t want to cry. “I want my mom. I want to go home!”

  He took a step back once Trista finished taping her waist and chest to the top of the chair and each ankle to one of the wooden legs and said, “There. How do you like that, kid?”

  “I hate you both.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  “They’re going to get you, and you’ll both spend the rest of your lives in jail. Bad guys worse than you don’t like people who hurt kids. They’ll beat you up and pull out your teeth with pliers.”

  Eric laughed. “Someone’s been watching too many movies.”

  Trista wrung her hands. “What if she’s right?”

  Eric shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.” Then he leaned over and rubbed the leg Lara had kicked earlier and said, “I’m going to go get my car, and I don’t want either of you to move. Not one inch.” He looked right at Trista. “Do you hear me?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest but didn’t say a word.

  Lara tried to wriggle free, but Trista had done a good job with the tape.

  When Eric opened the door to make his exit, a man wearing a dark suit stood just outside. Car keys dangled from the stranger’s fingers.

  Eric snatched his keys from the man. “Who are you?”

  “My name isn’t important. What is important,” he said as he stepped inside and wagged his finger at Lara, “is that you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  At first glance, Lara thought the man at the door might be there to save her, but then he pulled out a gun and looked her square in the eyes. That’s when she knew it wasn’t a friendly face she was looking at. He wasn’t there to help her at all. His eyes were dark and cold, and goose bumps suddenly covered her arms and legs.

  He pointed the gun at Eric and told him he wanted to have a talk. With the gun jabbed into Eric’s back, he used his other hand to shut the door, and then he pushed Eric, making him stumble into the middle of the room.

  Lara was surprised Eric wasn’t fighting back. He looked scared.

  The stranger took the duct tape from Trista and told her to come with them. Together, the three of them headed for the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

  As soon as the door to the bedroom clicked shut, Lara looked around, eyes wide. Trista’s cell phone was on the couch. She lowered her head and tried gnawing on the tape around her arm. Her heart hammered against her chest, and tears streamed down her face as she heard Trista pleading for her life.

  She wriggled her arms and twisted her ankles to try to loosen the tape, but it was no use. She started using her toes, pushing off the floor and hopping instead. The chair moved a little bit at a time. You can do this, she told herself. You can do this.

  If she could reach the phone, she could call 911.

  She tried to block out the sounds coming from the other room. Moaning and groaning and all sorts of weird squeaking. She didn’t have far to go. Just a few more feet. She filled her head with thoughts of Mom, Dad, and her brother, Hudson. How happy they would be to see her when she finally got away.

  EIGHT

  Hudson used the wool blanket as a stretcher and pulled Joey along, trying to take the easiest path, doing his best to avoid rocks and fallen branches. The blanket had holes in it now, and he knew they wouldn’t be able to go on like this for too much longer. Not because of the makeshift stretcher, but because every muscle in his arms ached, and his legs were beginning to wobble.

  Staying close to the creek, he made sure to drink as much water as possible. Using the pocketknife, he cut a piece of blanket and used it as a sponge to squeeze water into Joey’s mouth. The sun would be going down soon, and he knew he’d have to stay far enough from the creek so as not to attract the attention of a bobcat or a mountain lion. He’d seen black-tailed deer, coyote, and gray squirrel, but no bears. And for that he was thankful. He’d eaten a few more worms, but he’d heard enough stories from his grandfather and Dad to know that a handful of earthworms wouldn’t be enough to sustain him for long.

  He also knew there was a good chance they would die in the forest, and yet he couldn’t help but think it was better to die near a fresh stream surrounded by wildlife than in the hands of horrible men who cared only about making a few dollars off the suffering of others.

  Over the past few weeks he hadn’t had time to wonder about Mom, Dad, or Lara. But he wondered now. What had they done with his sister? If he did get out of here alive, would his family still be there? The bad guys had been hovering over his parents when he and Lara were taken from the house. It was all a blur. Sometimes in his nightmares, he saw blood. But he didn’t know if the images were real. Nothing made sense any longer. One minute he was singing in the car with his sister, and in the next, men he’d never seen before were dragging him from his home. He kept hoping he would wake up and realize it was all a bad dream.

  His bones ached as he pulled Joey through dirt and leaves. Every muscle throbbed. It was his will to live that kept his legs moving. He knew from all the stories he’d heard from Dad and Grandpa that patience and determination were important if anyone lost in the woods had any hope of surviving.

  But he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, and that worried him because he felt as if he were being frozen alive from the inside out.

  Every once in a while Joey would start wheezing uncontrollably, as he was doing now. Patience and determination, Hudson thought, might not see us through another night. He used all his strength to pull Joey to the biggest tree trunk he could find. He propped him up, high enough so Joey would hopefully be able to breathe easier, and then Hudson went in search of wood to make a shelter.

  With his arms filled to the brim with long branches, he was about to trek back to where he’d left Joey when he saw a dark shadow in the distance. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared ahead, past crooked rows of trees and undergrowth.

  He dropped the wood at his feet and began to run toward the shadow. He couldn’t help but wonder if
lack of food and sleep was causing him to see things that weren’t there, but he kept running just the same.

  Weaving through the pines, he jumped over a narrow part of the creek until he was absolutely sure of what he was seeing—a small cabin made of rough logs and half-covered with vines. The roof was nothing more than a metal sheet with a crumbling stone chimney.

  He headed that way, his breathing heavy.

  And then a thought struck him. What if the bad guys are inside? What then?

  He slowed his pace as he drew closer, careful not to attract any unwanted attention in case they were waiting for him.

  Not only was he afraid of what he might find in the cabin, he also worried about leaving Joey behind, even if for only a short time. He stopped and looked back the way he’d come, memorizing the path he’d taken from where he’d left Joey. If the cabin were empty, he would go back and drag him this way. Although his legs and arms felt weaker than ever, there was no way he could leave Joey out there to die, cold and alone.

  Leaves crunched beneath his shoes as he moved closer. The cabin was ancient, made of old rough-wood timber. It had a pointed roof and a chimney made out of stone. There was no porch, which made it easy to peek through the grimy window. Nobody was inside. There was an old wood-burning stove and bunk beds in the corner. He tried the door. It creaked in protest. When he put some muscle into it, the door opened.

  Instead of entering right away, he walked around the outside of the cabin to make sure nobody was hiding out. The cabin was small with a tiny outhouse at the back. He peeked inside. It was cold and drafty. It was also empty—nothing more than a wooden platform with a hole in the middle.

  He walked back around to the front of the cabin and went inside. The place had a damp, moldy smell, but not too bad considering it looked as if no one had inhabited the place for years. The kitchen area was no bigger than the size of his dresser back home. There was an old pot inside a dented metal sink, but no water hookup. There were six drawers. He opened them, one after another, and nearly cried with joy when he found a box of matches and two fat candles, both burned down to the halfway mark. He laughed when he found three cans of black beans. There was no can opener to be found, though.