by T. R. Ragan
Faith might have recovered, but if she was ever going to find those kids, she needed all the help she could get.
And damn it all if Beth wasn’t going to protect her little corner of the world.
She pulled open a bottom drawer and grabbed a handful of zip ties she used for trash bags; then she rushed to her bedroom. Working fast, she slipped into a lightweight jacket and then crammed the zip ties inside the pocket. Next she tied her hair back to keep the wind from blowing hair into her face, and then headed for the closet. She unlocked the gun case and grabbed the Marlin lever-action rifle because it was already loaded and it could shoot a cartridge powerful enough to knock down any species of game in North America.
It wasn’t yet noon. Any other day and she would have been in the ER assessing and stabilizing patients with life-threatening ailments. But this was her day off. Most of her neighbors were at work.
Her best bet, if she didn’t want the intruder to see her coming, was to head for Mr. Hawkins’s house and then cut across his yard and crawl under the fence to get to the McMann house.
She exited her house and walked at a clipped pace as she cut across the field of persimmon trees instead of merely walking down the neighbor’s driveway. After entering Hawkins’s backyard through his side gate, she weaved through backyard furniture that had toppled over and then trekked through the tall grass separating Hawkins’s house from the McMann house. All went as planned. Crawling under the fence was a tighter squeeze than she’d imagined, but she managed. A silver Subaru was parked outside Faith’s house.
One man or two? Her adrenaline soared.
Maybe more. Perhaps the same three who’d murdered Craig McMann were inside.
If there were three men, things could get a bit hairy. But two men she could handle. Standing at the hood of the Subaru, she peeked around the garage toward the pool area. Nobody there.
She couldn’t walk to the front door because there were too many windows. Whoever was inside would see her. If he were smart, he’d get in and out in a hurry. This house had a bad history. Why would he linger? What sort of fool or fools was she dealing with?
She didn’t have to wonder for long. The intruder came around the corner as if he didn’t have a care in the world. If he weren’t wearing a dark cap over his head and gloves, she might have asked questions first and knocked him in the head second. But as things stood, good old-fashioned instinct took over, and she struck him with the butt of her rifle.
He went down, crumbling to his knees in slow motion. She hit him again just in case, then retrieved the zip ties and secured his hands and legs.
THIRTEEN
No sooner had Faith said goodbye to the detective from the front steps of her parents’ house than her cell phone rang. Caller ID told her it was her neighbor Beth Tanner, the woman who had saved her life after the attack. She picked up the call and said hello.
“Faith, it’s Beth. I can’t explain over the phone, but I need you to meet me at your house on Rolling Greens Lane.”
“When?”
“Right now. There’s something you need to see.”
Faith turned around and headed for her car parked in the driveway. “I’m on my way.” She got as far as Auburn-Folsom when she spotted Miranda walking on the side of the road with her hand out and her thumb raised to the sky.
Faith passed her by, then pulled to the side of the road, rolled down the passenger side window, and waited for her to catch up.
Miranda leaned her head into the car. “What’s up?”
“Where are you going?”
She shrugged. “I just needed to get out for a bit.”
“This is a dangerous road to walk on. Why don’t you get in and come with me? I’m going to stop by my house to talk to a neighbor.”
Miranda hesitated before she climbed in. After Faith merged back onto the road, Miranda said, “Why did you move?”
“To my parents’ house?”
Miranda nodded.
“The truth is, after my family was attacked, I became frustrated with the police. In the heat of the moment, I made a bad decision that ended up getting me thrown in jail. The judge let me out on two conditions. One, I must live with my parents for ninety days, and, two, I have to attend anger management classes twice a week.”
Miranda chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve met some mean people in my lifetime, and you’re not one of them. Not even close.”
“I didn’t have an angry bone in my body until those men took everything from me.” She spared a quick glance at Miranda before setting her gaze back on the road. The girl had been through so much, and yet she kept her hardships to herself. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you since you’ve been staying with us.”
Miranda swished a hand through the air. “I’m the last person you need to worry about. Besides, I can’t stay with you and your parents forever.”
“Oh, yes, you can,” Faith countered. “I’m serious. You’ve already met Lara, and you’ll love Hudson.”
“You’re that certain you’ll find them?”
“I am,” Faith answered without hesitation.
“Do the police have any idea where your son might be?”
“No. Not at this point.”
“I wasn’t really just off for a walk,” Miranda said.
“No?” Faith asked, feigning surprise. “Where were you going?”
“I thought I would hitchhike my way to the hotel I told you about. The one in San Francisco, the place I escaped from. I’m going to find that disgusting john they call Mr. Smith, whose face I can’t get out of my mind, and I’m going to confront him.”
“What makes you think he’d still be there?”
She shrugged. “That man, whoever he is, practically owns the place. He had people in the salon, at the front desk, and guards at the door. He could own the hotel for all I know. Either way, it’s not like I have anything better to do. I’ll sleep in the park like I used to do, and then I’ll watch the entrance of the hotel every day and night until he returns.”
“That’s much too dangerous,” Faith said.
“I’ll be prepared.”
Faith sucked in a breath. “I’m glad I found you before you got too far.”
“Whether I go there today or next week, I’ll go eventually. I won’t allow that man or those people to keep on hurting young girls.”
“How do you plan on stopping them?”
“I have some money. I know where I can get my hands on a fake ID. I’ll buy a gun, and then if he dares return to the hotel, I’ll wait for him. And I’ll take him out.”
Faith sighed. “Why don’t we talk to Detective Yuhasz and see what he can do to help?”
“I’m not eighteen. He’d have no choice but to shove me into a foster home or some sort of shelter. I’ve been trapped for too long. I couldn’t handle it. I would run away first chance I got. I’m tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do.”
“Shooting the man who hurt you might not be the answer. You’ll be the one who ends up behind bars.”
“That’s sort of calling the kettle black, isn’t it?”
“Touché.”
“I’m not going to let wealthy pricks like Mr. Smith pay to rape girls like me who have no way of fighting back. I’d rather take him down and then live behind bars knowing I stopped him from doing to someone else what he did to me.”
Sadly, she couldn’t argue with that. Faith stopped at the red light on Douglas Boulevard. “I think we need to do some planning before we go.”
“Before we go where?”
“To San Francisco.”
“You’re going with me?”
“It’s obvious your mind is made up, and I’m certainly not going to let you go alone.” The light turned green. Faith stepped on the gas.
“Why would you bother,” Miranda asked, “when you have so much to do already?”
“We never would have found the farmhouse i
f it weren’t for you,” Faith reminded her.
“But we were too late.”
“Maybe so, but Mr. Smith paid Diane Weaver—isn’t that right?”
Miranda nodded.
“Then he must have contacts. Maybe he’s the one who can lead us to where they’re hiding Lara and Hudson.”
“I didn’t think of that. You might be right.”
Faith made a left onto Rolling Greens Lane. Her house was the third on the right. She parked next to a silver Subaru she didn’t recognize, then looked at Miranda. “We both want to stop people like Mr. Smith from hurting anyone else. Promise me you won’t make the trip to San Francisco without me?”
“I promise.”
Faith reached out and put a hand over hers. “You’re not alone, Miranda. No matter what happens, you’re not alone.”
“Thanks,” Miranda said before Beth Tanner appeared and they both exited the vehicle.
Beth gave Miranda a quick once-over. “Who’s this?”
“This is Miranda. I’ll explain later, but you don’t need to worry about her seeing whatever it is you want to show me.”
“That’s fine,” Beth said. “Come with me. He’s in the garage.”
“He?” Faith asked.
“The man I found rummaging through your house. A black knit cap and gloves was my first clue he wasn’t a door-to-door salesman.”
“What’s he doing in the garage?”
“He’s tied up, and I do mean literally.”
Faith’s pulse began to race. “Take me to him.”
“This way.”
Faith and Miranda followed Beth to the side of the house and through the door leading into the garage. At the far corner, hunkered down between stacks of plastic bins and metal shelving, was a man.
His arms were pulled behind his back, his wrists zip-tied to a built-in shelving unit.
She’d tied his ankles, too, and duct taped his mouth and legs, just above his knees. His eyes were wide-open. He was trying to talk, but the words were muffled.
Faith walked over to him, her heart beating rapidly inside her chest as she stared at him.
“After I tied him up, he wouldn’t stop kicking his legs, so I had to pull out the tape. He wouldn’t shut up, either,” Beth explained.
“Do we know who he is?”
“He had a gun tucked in his waistband, and I found a wallet in his coat pocket. His name is Martin Hoyt. He’s twenty-nine years old and one hundred and sixty pounds of scrawny.”
Faith examined him closely, her gaze fixed on his eyes.
He didn’t look away, didn’t blink. She didn’t recognize him as one of the three men who had broken into her house and killed her husband. But what if he’d cut his hair since then or lost a few pounds? She tried to imagine him with curly hair and a birdlike nose, but it was no use.
He wasn’t one of the three attackers. Or was he? A dark shadow on the curve of his neck caught her eye. She bent down on one knee, grabbed a fistful of hair, and jerked his head to the left. The tattoo on this man’s neck was the same tattoo she’d seen on the intruder when he bent over and slit her husband’s throat. This particular man might not be the one who did the deed, but he had to be connected somehow. The hate she felt for him and his thug friends rushed through her body. She stood up and kicked him in the gut, and then again in the side.
He grunted, looking to the others for help.
The blood in her veins sizzled and popped as she looked around the garage. She went to the area where Craig kept his tools, dug around until she found a crowbar. It was solid, heavy, perfect.
“Don’t do it,” Beth said as she stepped in front of the man, keeping Faith from coming any closer.
“It’s OK,” Faith said, although that was far from the truth. Nothing was OK. She wanted to bash the man’s head in, would have no qualms doing so. “Move aside,” she said calmly. “I just want to ask him a few questions.”
“Do you recognize him?” Beth asked.
“No.”
“I do,” Miranda said.
They both turned to face the girl.
“I know him as Fin. That’s the name he used when he came to the farmhouse to brand the girls.”
Beth sighed as she stepped out of the way.
Faith knelt down again, and this time she ripped the tape from his mouth. “Where’s my daughter, Lara McMann?”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Bullshit! You’re the tattoo artist I’ve heard so much about.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“He’s lying,” Miranda said.
“Did you give my daughter a tattoo?”
“They called her Jean,” Miranda reminded him. “And you took your time with her. You liked her. I know you did.”
He frantically shook his head. “It wasn’t me!”
“He’s lying,” Miranda said. “I watched him do it.”
Faith stood and whacked him across the knee with the crowbar.
He let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Where’s my daughter?”
“I don’t know.”
Faith smacked him again.
He screamed again, louder this time.
“Last chance,” Faith ground out. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows, I swear.” He cowered. “Mother sent her away, but nobody knows where she is!”
“What were you doing inside my house?”
“I heard there was millions of dollars hidden around here somewhere. I was looking for the cash.”
She lifted the crowbar high above his head.
“Faith!” Beth shouted. “I called you here so you could question him, not so you could get yourself thrown back in jail.”
Arms trembling, Faith lowered the weapon. Beth was right. She needed to think about Lara and Hudson. She needed to be smart. “What should we do?”
“He doesn’t deserve to live,” Miranda said. “He enjoys tattooing the girls and making them suffer. He knows things.”
Faith wasn’t ready to call the police. Not yet. She didn’t want to make any hasty decisions. “We’ll keep him here until I figure out what to do with him.”
“What about his car?” Miranda asked. “Someone might see it.”
“I’ll hide it in my garage,” Beth offered.
Fin squirmed. “You can’t leave me here.”
“We can do anything we want with you,” Faith told him. “If you tell me the name of your boss, I’ll let you go right now. Nobody will know you were ever here,” she lied.
Silence.
Faith grabbed the roll of duct tape and ripped off enough to wrap around his mouth.
“I need water.”
“I need a name.”
When he refused to answer, Faith slapped the tape over his mouth.
“What now?” Miranda asked.
“Beast would love to have a talk with this man,” Faith said. “Beast doesn’t like people who hurt children.” She looked at Fin and shook her head. “You had your chance, buddy.”
FOURTEEN
Between watching Craig’s car being pulled from the canal, finding Miranda on the side of the road, and then discovering the man who had branded her daughter tied up in her garage, it had been a long day.
It bothered her to think she’d wanted so badly to kill the man. And yet she knew he was scum. He’d refused to give them the name of the man or woman he and Diane Weaver worked for, but he had appeared to be baffled as to Lara’s whereabouts.
After leaving her house, she’d called Beast to tell him what was going on and asked him to pay Fin a visit. Hopefully he would have better luck getting the tattoo man to talk.
Faith and Miranda had returned to her parents’ house a few hours ago. After doing her own search of the Internet for anything about Diane Weaver and coming up with nothing, Faith took a quick shower before joining Mom, Dad, and Miranda at the kitchen table.
Mom had made pork chops and green beans.
And what about Richard Price?
Richard Price was a client who had used her husband’s business to launder money—the instigating factor that ended up turning her world upside down. After her husband’s business partner stole $2 million from Richard Price’s account, then hid it in the pool equipment at Faith’s house and pointed the finger at her husband, three men had come looking for that money and ended up taking her kids instead.
According to the FBI, weeks after Craig’s death, Richard Price was found murdered in his car on the side of the road.
Who had killed him, and why?
Too many questions without any answers.
The alarm beeped, alerting them to the fact that someone was nearing the house. The front door opened and then slammed shut.
“Where is she?” her brother’s voice boomed as he came charging through the house.
Faith and Dad came to their feet at the same time.
Miranda and Mom remained seated.
“Where are they?” Colton asked.
Dad stopped Colton in the living room before he got as far as the kitchen. “Bri and the kids are in Florida with her parents,” Dad said. “She was frightened, Colton. Not only for herself but for your daughters. She couldn’t handle the stress. She needed to go.”
Colton paced the living room, back and forth in front of the fireplace, before plunking himself down on the couch. With his elbows propped on his knees, he rubbed both sides of his head. “She promised me she wouldn’t make any decisions until I returned.”
Faith’s brother’s eyes were bloodshot, his face pale. He looked like hell, and Faith’s heart went out to him. Her family was falling apart, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. How would any of them ever manage to carry on?