Bound by Danger
Page 11
Mickey straightened her shoulders and faced him. She refused to let him browbeat her into more guilt and fear than she already had. Hell, even if he shoved it down her throat, her body was already filled to the brim with exhausting emotion. She’d been through more in the last forty-eight hours than any human should be forced to endure.
But it still wasn’t as bad as what Becca was dealing with. “I found this address in Pete’s apartment and wanted to see what it was. I didn’t want to bother you, and Lord knows I didn’t need to hand you anything else to use against me.”
The strobing light beat down on his face and the fury in his eyes had her taking a step backward. “Are you kidding me? It took me hours to find this address. And I’m still not supposed to be inside. I’m waiting for a warrant so we can use whatever we find in this hell hole as evidence if we catch the bastard we’re looking for. If you had told me the address, I could have gotten the ball rolling a whole hell of a lot faster.”
A vein throbbed above his eyebrow and blared a warning to Mickey. His temper was slipping, and his slow and controlled tone was far more intimidating than if he’d screamed at her. She tucked her bottom lip into her teeth and her gaze darted around the shabby room. Her breath caught on the ball wedged in her throat.
Oh my God. What did I do? He could have caught them before they’d left.
She took another step backward and the back of her knees folded against something hard. The unexpected movement had her sitting down on a cot. The old hinges squeaked, but the hard board of a mattress didn’t budge. She grazed her fingers against the torn and tattered blanket on top of the cot and her heart splintered in two.
“I’m sorry. I…I didn’t think about that. I just thought…I wanted…” Sobs tore through her words and rocked her body. She wanted to be strong, helpful. She didn’t want to be the reason two sex-traffickers had escaped. “When Connie and the other guy left with a suitcase and I saw Becca’s backpack, I had to act. Instinct took over. But you’re right. I should have called you or the police. I shouldn’t have—”
“What did you say?” The urgency in his voice had her finally meeting his eye.
“I should have called the police.”
He shook his head. “Not that. The part about Connie and a guy.”
“Oh. I was sitting in my car watching the house when Connie carried a suitcase to the car, and then she left with a guy. A big guy in a black hoodie. I thought maybe they’d left the girls alone for a minute.”
“How long ago was this?”
She shrugged. “Not long. Maybe twenty minutes.”
“Shit. I missed them by minutes. Dammit, I need to call this in and get the police searching for them right away. What kind of car did they drive?”
“A black SUV. An Escalade I think.”
Graham pulled out his phone and pressed a number. “Yeah. It’s Grassi. I’ve got a witness who saw Connie Difico and an unknown male accomplice in a black hoodie drive away from 7225 Cleveland Avenue twenty minutes ago in what’s likely a black Cadillac Escalade. I want everyone looking for that car, and I need backup here five minutes ago.”
He ended the call and stood in front of her. “This is good. We could get them. They don’t have a lot of time on us, and if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t know when they’d left. But that doesn’t mean the house is clear. I need to go through every room and make sure no one else is here.”
Mickey staggered to her feet. “I’ll go with you. I’m not staying down here by myself.”
“How about I start down here and then we can argue about where you’ll go once I move upstairs.”
She glanced around the room. “Graham, no one else is in the basement.”
“You’re probably right. But I need to check anyway.”
He turned his phone light on, the thin beam of light joining with hers, and stepped away from her. The lack of his body next to hers made her all too aware of the untold horrors of where she sat, and she hurried to follow behind him.
“The ceiling’s low, so watch your head.” Graham lowered his head and crept into the black ink of the basement. “Stay close.”
She reached out and grabbed his hand. His strong grip steadied her and calmed the anxiety bouncing between her organs. She ducked and the damp wood brushed against the top of her head, snagging frayed strands of her hair. Her gaze followed the light and her stomach muscles clenched. A jacket laid bunched in one corner of the room, a dirty tennis shoe in another. They followed along the walls of the small basement and then turned back toward where they’d started. Five dirty cots lined the back wall. The tattered blankets on the beds were no more than glorified sheets filled with holes.
“What are the buckets for?” She pointed at two five-gallon buckets set up in the corner. The heavy scent of ammonia and feces made her question moot, but she hoped beyond reason they weren’t what she assumed.
“Makeshift bathrooms.” His voice was hard and he tightened his grip on her hand.
She dug her heels into the ground and dropped his hand. Bending at the waist, she hugged her middle and took deep breaths to fight against the nausea swimming in her stomach. It only made it worse as the air-clogging stench filtered into her mouth. “I…I can’t do this. I’m going to be sick.”
A gentle hand pressed against her back, circling between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to wait outside? You shouldn’t be down here anyway. It’s not safe.”
“No. I don’t want to be by myself. And if there’s something here that could help, we need to find it now. Enough time has been wasted because of me.” She straightened and pinched the bridge of her nose. She evened out her breaths but couldn’t stop her heart from beating against her ribcage. She couldn’t stop the quiver in her limbs or the hole of despair in her soul from growing bigger and bigger. “Even though I can’t deny what a sick monster Pete is any longer, actually seeing where Becca and those other girls have been locked up like animals makes the picture so much clearer. So much worse. It’s a lot to take in.”
“We can go upstairs. No one is down here, and this area will be swept over by professionals once they get here. You witnessing the nightmare Becca’s been forced to endure won’t solve anything. Besides, I still need to clear the rest of the house.”
Red beady eyes lit up in the darkness and streaked across the dirty floor, flittering over her naked toe. Tiny claws poked into her skin and coarse fur brushed against her ankle. Her breath hitched in her throat and she stumbled backward until she pressed up against something hard. “Oh my God. A rat just ran over my foot.” She shook her foot, as if the rat still lingered on it and a shudder of disgust rippled through her. She glanced behind her, taking in the empty rows of an oak bookcase.
“I think you’ll live.” Graham stepped beside her and skimmed his hands along the shelves still supporting her weight. “Why do they have a bookcase down here?”
He lifted the light to examine the empty dust-filled shelves and something caught her eye. She lifted her finger, pointing to the small scrap of paper trapped on the edge of the bookcase. Only one corner was visible, the rest of the paper seemingly hidden behind the case. “What’s that?” She reached out to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge from behind the heavy wood.
“I don’t know, but don’t tear it.” Lifting the phone closer, Graham leaned forward. He traced a finger along the edge of the bookcase. “Take my phone. I’m going to move it out and see if I can get it.”
She grabbed the phone and took a step back to give him some room. He studied the bookcase for a minute, and then used his fingertips to shimmy the side from the wall. Little by little, inch by inch, he moved it forward. The paper floated to the ground and she crouched down and picked it up. Carefully, she unfolded it.
Help
The large letters were barely visible on the wrinkled paper, as if whatever was used to write with barely contained enough ink to get the message out. Her heart froze in her chest. Fogginess clouded her vision and her knees buckled beneath her.
Her mind couldn’t find any words, so she pressed the note in the palm of his hand.
He lifted it in front of his eyes. “Shit.”
“Becca wrote this note.” Confidence filled her voice even as disbelief stole the function of her muscles.
Graham lifted the paper close to his face and narrowed his eyes as he studied it. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. She always adds a little flourish to the bottom of her p’s.” Mickey used her pinky to point it out and couldn’t help the sad smile from forming on her lips. “You see the swirl? That has Becca written all over it. She’s a smart girl. She wouldn’t have stuck this behind a bookcase for no reason.”
Graham didn’t need any more convincing. “I need to move this out more. It doesn’t look like there’s a wall behind it. Can you stand?”
Finding a cry for help from Becca filled Mickey with new determination. If the backpack hadn’t been enough proof Becca had been here, her note was. “I’m fine. Do what you need to do.” Drawing herself up, she straightened her spine and stiffened her resolve. She couldn’t be weak right now. “Do you need help?”
Graham pulled at the bookcase and wisps of air streamed in from behind it. His muscles bunched as he maneuvered the heavy bookcase forward. “Let me see the light.” He grabbed the phone and shined the small beam into the large space he’d created. “It looks like there’s quite a bit of space behind this thing. I can’t see the back. There isn’t a wall or anything back here.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh my God. Do you know what this is?”
“Obviously not.” He snorted.
“Graham, we’re in Old Town.” Excitement battled with the constant blanket of fear that had covered her all night. Under any different circumstance, excitement would have won out. Not tonight. But she still couldn’t stop her words from tumbling out a little too quickly.
He turned to look at her, his brow lifted. “So?”
“This could be a tunnel from the Underground Railroad.” Her voice grew louder with every word. She lifted herself on to her toes to see above Graham’s head and smacked her head on the ceiling. “Ouch.”
His mouth drew down, causing wrinkles to ripple on his chin. “That’s crazy. No way that’s what this is. It’s probably a pit they dug to hide girls.”
She shook her head and wonder laced through her voice. “I’d bet my paycheck this house was here before the fire. This part of town was heavily used to transport slaves from the South. The city was a hub of activity, and a lot of the different routes through Illinois came here.”
“I never knew that.”
“I’m not surprised, most people don’t. My dad’s a huge history nerd, so we used to come to Old Town when I was a kid and he’d point out different areas of importance during the Civil War. Even places that aren’t standing anymore. Most of the houses that were a part of the Underground Railroad burned down, but there are a few left. This has to be one of them.”
He rubbed the tips of his fingers over his chin. “If you’re right, this would be the perfect house to set up a human trafficking operation. They’d be able to move the girls in and out of the house without drawing any attention to themselves. Hell, no one would even have to know girls were in the house at all.”
“In a seriously disturbed way, it’s genius,” she said. “They must have taken the girls with them. Where would it lead?”
He nodded and studied the space he’d uncovered behind the bookcase. He glanced back at her and raised his brow. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I need to make a call before we go in there.” Every muscle in his body screamed at him to dive down the rabbit hole and screw protocol. But he needed to do this right. He couldn’t afford another fuck up.
He glanced down at his phone and a moment of hesitation kept him from dialing Eric’s number. Would Eric call Harper and feed him a line of bullshit? He hated not having complete trust in his partner. But he had to call someone. He’d already called for backup from the local police department…twice. Eric was his best option right now. Hell, Eric had never given him a reason not to trust him before. And if he called Eric to let him know he’d covered his bases, it might tame the tingling shred of guilt gnawing into his conscience telling him to wait for backup and keep Mickey away from the crime scene.
Hitting the send button with his thumb, he brought the phone to his ear and waited for his partner to pick up. One, two, three rings sounded in his ear before Eric’s voicemail picked up. Not enough rings for the phone to take him to voicemail on its own. Eric had declined the call. Maybe he was busy with the case and couldn’t be disturbed. That would make the most sense.
“Hey, man. I found something interesting in the house. I’m waiting for backup, but I have to check this out now. I’ll fill you in later.” He clicked off his phone and faced Mickey. “How’s your battery? It’d suck to be wandering around in there with no light.”
She glanced down at the screen. “Not great. Thirty-one percent. It should be fine. What about you?”
“Sixty-four percent.” He flicked his thumb across the screen and clicked on his flashlight. “Ready?”
Mickey nodded and took one step behind the bookcase. A door slammed and Mickey whipped around, her hands gripped his shirt, her eyes wide. Heavy footsteps made the floorboards above their heads shudder. Dirt drifted down and Mickey swiped it off the matted strands of her still-damp hair. “Someone’s here.”
Graham lifted a finger to his lips and tilted his ear toward the ceiling.
“Chicago Police Department. We have a warrant to search this house, and backup was requested by Agent Grassi.”
“Backup’s here.” His gaze stayed glued to the ceiling and indecision warred within him. He should alert the Chicago PD to what he’d found and help them clear the rest of the house. They’d be pissed if they discovered Mickey with him, her fingerprints marking up their crime scene. But he was in the mouth of the tunnel and the girls could be on the other end.
Besides, Mickey would throw a fit if he tried to get her out now. He dropped his gaze to ask Mickey if she wanted to wait upstairs, but she’d already disappeared into the pit behind the bookcase.
Shit.
He turned sideways to squeeze into the dark space in front of him. He lifted the phone and shuddered. The light washed over the sides of the stone walls that stood on either side of him and his head brushed against the ceiling. “Mickey?”
“I’m right in front of you. I didn’t want to wait. Come on.”
He quickened his step to catch up to her. “I hope you’re not claustrophobic,” he said in her ear. She slowed her pace and her body pressed against his.
“This is my worst nightmare come to life. Is it getting tighter? I think the walls are getting closer together.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth along with her ragged breaths. “I should have waited for you to go first.”
“Too late now.” He fought the urge to stop and comfort her and pushed her forward. They needed to get to the end of this damn tunnel. If there was any chance of finding whoever wrote that note, they needed to hurry. “Actually, I think it’s getting wider the farther we go.”
“God, I hope so.”
Dust rose in the air with every step he took, filling his lungs and coating his throat. Sweat trickled down his back and his shirt clung to his skin. The heat was unbearable. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Time passed slowly, but he didn’t check his phone to see how long they’d been down there. It’d probably depress him.
Shrill squeaks and low whistles vibrated through the walls. Bats. Mickey stopped moving and he crashed into her back. He strained his ears, trying to recognize the sound. “I think we’re almost to the end. Nothing would echo back here if the walls continued to stay so narrow. It must open up soon.”
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br /> “Glad to hear it, but I don’t want to know what’s making that noise.”
Cool air whipped down the narrow corridor, blasting him in the face and combatting the heat. He sucked in a deep breath and savored the sudden reprieve. His pace quickened and the walls spread farther and farther apart until the ceiling opened up a couple of feet. Mickey stepped into the opening and turned in a wide circle. He lifted the light and sucked in a breath. “Holy shit.”
Mickey stepped up beside him, her light joining his as they surveyed the area in front of them. “What is this place?”
He stepped through the archway and walked into a large, open area. Three tunnels, each slightly larger than the one they came from, led in three different directions. Old tracks led down each tunnel, like an abandoned mine. He turned toward Mickey, lifting the light to see her face. “Do you remember when a bunch of buildings downtown experienced flooding in their basements and they didn’t know why?”
“That was over twenty years ago,” Mickey said as her eyes darted around the deserted space. “I remember my dad being annoyed by it, but I was too young to care.”
“Same here. I was eight, but I remember my parents bitching about it. Do you remember what caused the floods?”
“No. I don’t think anyone ever told me.”
“The Chicago river flooded, and the water breached a bunch of old utility tunnels most people forgot were even under the city, tunnels that had been shut down in the late fifties.” He stepped toward the opening of one of the narrow tunnels and crouched down to study the tracks. “I’m guessing these are some of those tunnels. They were built in the early 1900s so carts could carry out the debris dug out to install telephone lines. I’m surprised the one from the house ran into these. They must have connected them somehow.”
Mickey crouched down beside him. “How many tunnels are there?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sure there are miles and miles of track laid down here.”
“We’ll never find them.” Her voice trembled.
He stood and studied the tracks of the other two tunnels with his light. “I can’t tell which track they used. At least not with this shitty light. If I come back down with better equipment, I might find footprints or something to lead me to them.”