Perilous

by Tamara Hart Heiner

  No one answered. Jaci took that for a yes. She lay down and wrapped her arms around herself, burying her head under arms.

  September 26

  Montreal, Canada

  “Can’t you at least tell me who printed this ad?” Carl tried hard to keep the frustration from his voice. He had visited five police stations in the past two days, all proving as unhelpful as this one.

  He had a horrible craving for one of those giant, arm-sized whole dill pickles. His mouth puckered in anticipation.

  The officer peered at him from under the rim of his red cap. “We don’t keep a record of ads printed in the newspaper.” His thick French accent dripped with sarcasm. “Did you try the newspaper office?”

  Carl bit back a retort. Nobody at the Toronto Sun had been able to give him any information. The address they had on file was bogus; the name equally so.

  Carl was reluctant to call the phone number on the ad and risk tipping his presence to The Hand.

  “What about Officer Fayande? Is he here? He was listed on the ad, and the online directory said he works in this department.”

  The man stiffened ever so slightly. “I don’t know the name.”

  Red flag. “Let me speak with your superior.” Carl pulled himself up to his full height, trying to appear imposing. He didn’t have any power or jurisdiction here, and the Montreal officer knew it.

  The man stepped into a glass-enclosed office. Carl took the opportunity to lean over the desk. He didn’t touch anything, but his eyes flicked over the papers.

  There had to be something. If the phone number was from Montreal, The Hand lived close by. Or at least had a hide-out close by.

  Not that he expected The Hand to be making waves here. No, of course not. This was home. He would want a safe haven. And privacy.

  Carl straightened. Maybe he was in the wrong place. Maybe he should be checking with the department of land and agriculture instead of the police station.

  A noise behind him made him turn. The officer stood by the door to the glass office. “The chief will see you now.”

  Carl stepped away from the desk, giving his best innocent expression. “Thank you.” He entered the chief’s office, pulling the door closed behind him.

  The man behind the desk leaned back in his chair, putting his fingers together and raising an eyebrow. One corner of his mouth curled upward. “I am Chief Pierre. How can I help you?”

  Carl pulled out his badge and slapped it down in front of the man. “I’m Detective Hamilton, from the Idaho Falls police department. Two weeks ago, these four girls went missing.”

  He slapped down the picture of all four girls. “Last week, the Toronto Sun printed this flier.” He slapped down the flier with pictures of the three surviving girls.

  “I have reason to believe that their kidnapper lives here in Montreal. Why can’t I get any information?”

  The man kept his steely gray eyes on Carl, not even looking at the pictures. “I don’t know what you expect us to do. I haven’t seen the girls. We didn’t print the flier.”

  “But you saw the flier!” Carl slammed his fist down. “You knew those were the girls. Did you start a search for them to counteract this ransom?”

  Pierre’s lips pulled down in a sneer. “I do not follow the U.S. news enough to know that those were the girls. Nor did I pay much attention to the flier. I hadn’t seen any girls, after all.”

  “What about this man?” Carl pointed to the name under the flier. “Officer Fayande is the contact on the flier. May I speak to him?”

  If Carl hadn’t been watching for it, he might not have noticed the brief conflict in the chief’s eyes. “He is away on business.”

  So Fayande did work here. “Is this number on the flier his phone number?”

  “I will have him call you as soon as he returns.” The words came out hostile.

  Carl straightened up slowly. Pierre’s attitude wasn’t making sense. He should be apologetic, sympathetic, helpful. Instead he was—condescending and defensive. He’s covering something.

  Carl kept his face neutral. If the man knew that he suspected, any chances of finding answers would slip away.

  “Thank you for your time.” Carl pulled back the pictures and his badge.

  Pierre’s face relaxed. “Good luck on your search.”

  “Same to you.” Carl ducked out of the office. The pieces were here. He just had to put them together.

  He stepped outside into the busy sidewalk, moving out of the way of pedestrians. He walked to a bus stop and waited.

  The girls had been here one week ago. Had someone called and turned them in? Or had they made it out of town? And if so, where would they go?

  To the States, of course. They would make a beeline for the U.S.

  He could call the number listed on the flier, but not from his cell phone. He didn’t know if he would be calling Officer Fayande or The Hand. Even though it was restricted, the number could be traced.

  What were the police hiding? What did they know?

  The bus arrived, and he climbed on. He hoped he would have better luck with the RCMP.

  Chapter 16

  The girls slept longer than expected.

  Jaci was hungry. Her body felt sluggish, unable to function. She lifted her head from her arms and noticed pools of water on the curled brown leaves in front of her. She picked a leaf up and licked it. “There has to be water around here. For the wildlife.”

  Amanda slung a shoulder bag across her body. “Let’s find it then.”

  They picked the leaves out of each other’s hair before starting off again.

  We’re so quiet, Jaci thought. Her legs ached, her shoulders were raw from the bag, and her stomach cramped.

  It was spooky out there. They jumped at squirrels rushing, and birds rustling through branches sent them whirling around, trying to identify the source.

  The forest continued in front of them, exactly the same as behind them. If it weren’t for the compass, they would have no idea where to go.

  “I’m so thirsty,” said Sara.

  “We can go up to three days without water,” Jaci said, trying to be encouraging. “We had water yesterday when it rained.”

  Sara paused. “Wait. Listen.”

  There was a whispering. Definitely a creek of some kind. The girls quickened their pace.

  Jaci was so intent on reaching the water that at first she didn’t notice the other sounds. She grabbed Sara’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

  “People.”

  Amanda moved past them. “People aren’t a bad thing.”

  “But we have to know what we’re going in to.”

  Voices reached Jaci’s ears. Children’s voices.

  “It’s a park.” She hurried forward, arriving at the small stream. Only a foot deep but six feet across, the fast-moving water bubbled over rocks and branches as it hurried downstream.

  Jaci knelt down and scooped the water up to her mouth.

  Amanda stopped beside her. “How do you know that water’s good?”

  “It smells good.”

  Sara joined Jaci. “Good enough for me.”

  Amanda looked out over the water. “I’ll pass. Let’s just get across. There’s people. We can get real water.” She stuck her foot in the stream and gasped. “It’s cold.”

  Jaci stood, having quenched her thirst. “Just go.”

  The water was freezing. Jaci winced as it slipped into the gaps in her shoes and stung her ankles.

  Children laughed and played several yards away from them, squealing as their fathers pushed their swings.

  The playground was in the middle of a glade, forest on one side and landscaped flower gardens on the others.

  Across the street, houses lined the park, clustered close together. A parking lot cut across the glade. It was full of cars, from mid-size sedans to full-size vans.

  And every single one of them read ‘Vermont’ on the license plate, with the words “Green Mountain State” beneath.


  Across from the park, suburban houses offered plenty of sidewalks and shade. A walking trail wound around the park and through the flower garden.

  Sara stepped onto the cobbled pathway. “We need to get back into hiding.” She glanced back at the children playing, now too far away to hear clearly, and quickened her pace.

  “Into hiding?” Jaci frowned at her. “Now’s when we need to get help.”

  “Look, a payphone!” said Amanda. She rushed toward it, tripping on a broken piece of the sidewalk.

  “No.” Sara blocked the phone. “Not the phone. They’ve tapped the lines.”

  “What?” Amanda furrowed her brow.

  “She might be right,” Jaci said, trying to remember what she’d heard from The Hand. “He said he knows who our families are. Let’s play it safe.”

  They were too close to Canada. The Hand would know the quickest route from Victoriaville to the United States. They needed to put distance between themselves and the border.

  Amanda shrugged. “Fine. Let’s find the police department.”

  “The police?” Sara shook her head. “I don’t think that’s safe either.”

  Amanda poked her. “We’re in America now. Nobody owns the police here.”

  “Do you girls need help with something?”

  Startled, Jaci turned. She hadn’t heard the black car pull up next to them.

  A man leaned across the passenger side, one hand on the steering wheel as he rolled down the window. He squinted against the sunlight and smiled at them. His dirty-blond hair and tanned skin gave him a handsome, rugged appearance.

  “Why would we need help?” Jaci asked, her guard up.

  Sara slid closer, nearly disappearing behind Jaci.

  He shrugged. “You look a little lost.”

  “Who are you?” Amanda asked.

  He stuck his hand out the window. “Kyle. How can I help?”

  “You can’t. We’re fine.” Jaci grabbed Amanda by the elbow and started to pull her back.

  “Wait.” Amanda yanked her arm back and stood her ground. “Can you tell us how to get to the police station?”

  He nodded. “I sure can. It’s about six blocks from here. Go straight two blocks and turn left at the stop sign. You’ll see it by the fire station.”

  He paused and added, “Or I can just give you a ride. It’ll be faster.”

  Sara, still cowering behind Jaci, cried, “No!”

  Amanda shook her head, taking a step back from the car. “No, thanks. We’ll walk.”

  “Are you sure? It’ll take five minutes. Here, come on, get in.”

  Red flags went up in Jaci’s mind. “No. We’ll be going now.” Her leg muscles tensed, ready to run.

  His smile disappeared. The back door opened and another man got out. Dressed in a black suit with sunglasses, his short black hair matching his ebony skin, he looked strong and threatening. He stood against the car and pulled a small gun from inside his jacket.

  “I’m not inviting,” Kyle said. “I’m ordering. I haven’t wasted two weeks of my time watching the border for nothing. You took something from The Hand, and he’s not stopping till he gets it back. Cost my buddy his life. No fussing and no one gets hurt.”

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amanda said, her eyes wide.

  “We’ll give it to you.” Jaci grabbed at Amanda. “Just leave us alone!”

  The black man wrapped a hand around Jaci’s wrist and spoke in a deep voice. “Is this the one we want?”

  “One of them. Get her in the car.”

  Sara made a strangled noise. With a scream, she bolted across the street.

  The man hugged Jaci to his chest and aimed his gun at Sara.

  “Not her,” Kyle yelled. He jumped out of the car and pushed the man’s arm to the left.

  Sara disappeared into a yard with no fence.

  “Hey!” A man from the park called out. “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine.” The black man yelled back, his voice deep and throaty. He tried to hide the gun behind his body.

  The man started to jog forward, a few other people following him.

  The black man was distracted, and that was all Jaci needed.

  She pushed up the sleeve of his suit and bit his arm. She felt the skin break, tasted blood, but clung like a mad dog.

  The man jerked his arm away with a grunt, and she scrambled backwards, stumbling over broken pieces of sidewalk. Stooping, she picked up a chunk of concrete and threw it at his gun hand, hitting him.

  He dropped the gun, and Amanda snatched it up. She pointed the gun at the two men, waving it back and forth.

  They froze, watching her warily, and keeping an eye on the people approaching from the park. Kyle’s hand started to slip into the car, and Amanda aimed right at him. “Hands on the hood!”

  Kyle smirked as he slid his hands onto the car. “You don’t even know how to shoot that thing, Missy.”

  Amanda pointed the gun toward the sky and pulled the trigger. The smirk disappeared.

  Kyle jumped back into the car. “I know where you’re going. You have nowhere to hide.”

  The other man barely had a chance to jump in before Kyle hit the gas and sped away.

  Amanda stared after them, her hands shaking. She opened her hand and the gun hit the sidewalk with a clunk.

  Someone grabbed Jaci’s shoulder, and she whirled around with a gasp. It was the man from the park.

  “Did he hurt you?” the man said.

  “N-no.” Jaci shook her head. “We’re okay.”

  Another man hurried toward them from a house across the street. “Are you okay?” he shouted. “I just called 911. The police will be here in a second.”

  They had to get out of there before the police showed up. Kyle might be bluffing, but they couldn’t take the chance.

  “We have to go.” She pulled away from the first man. “Thank you.”

  She took Amanda’s arm and pulled her across the street. “We have to find Sara.”

  A woman ran out onto the sidewalk in front of them, her brown hair pulling loose from its clip. “Girls, you can’t leave. You have to tell the police what happened.”

  “No, we don’t. We need to go.” Jaci tried to move past her, but the woman danced in front of them.

  “You’re witnesses, and he’s still out there!”

  Jaci jerked Amanda to her side and pulled her around the corner, away from the crowd.

  They headed in the direction Sara had gone, running past several houses before coming to one with no fence.

  A puking noise from the backyard attracted Jaci’s attention. Sara knelt next to the house.

  She looked at Amanda, accusing. “Natalie said don’t talk to anyone. Don’t trust anyone. Why can’t you listen, Amanda?”

  Amanda shook as she sank into the leaves. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It won’t happen again.”

  Sara pressed her forehead into the wall. “We can’t trust anyone. We can’t go to the police.”

  “Maybe he’s bluffing,” Jaci said.

  “Nowhere,” cried Sara. “He’ll find us. We can’t go anywhere.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead and dark clouds covered the sky.

  Jaci pulled on Sara. “We’ve got to go. We need to find a place to lie low and hide for tonight.”

  They wandered through backyards, staying out of sight. They heard the sirens of police cars. Jaci wanted to talk to an officer, but she didn’t know who was good and who was bad. It was foolish to take the chance.

  Finally the police sirens faded away. They stuck to hedges and shadows for several blocks, until the rain started to fall.

  They found a large house with a deck for cover. It was an older house, with a light pink stone exterior. There were no cars in the driveway and all the lights were off.

  They huddled on the concrete porch under the deck, trying to keep dry. Rivulets of water ran through the dirt around the porch, and the tree branches shivered with the force of the rai
n.

  “What time is it?” Jaci asked.

  Amanda glanced at her watch. “Three p.m.” She turned to a white deck chair and sank into it.

  “Maybe we should start traveling at night,” suggested Jaci, pulling another plastic chair up next to Amanda. “We have a flashlight.”

  Amanda shook her head. “Bad idea. Nights are dangerous. Bad things happen. And with a flashlight, anyone can see us.” She opened her backpack and dug around. “Looks like I’m out of food, ladies.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Jaci said. “Let’s just stay here the rest of the evening. Even if anyone comes home, they won’t be lounging outside in this weather.”

  “One thing I’m wondering,” Amanda said, her eyes on the water spilling from the roof, “why did they want you, Jaci?”

  She could feel both sets of eyes on her. So they had noticed that. “I don’t know.”

  “No idea?” Sara asked, suspicion in her voice.

  She wonders if something happened to me like what happened to her. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “But I did hear them say something once, back at the house in Canada.”

  “What?” Amanda asked.

  “I heard The Hand say that I was Gregorio Rivera’s daughter.”

  They sat in silence, watching the rain pour off the roof.

  “How do they know your dad?” Sara asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Amanda turned cold green eyes on her. “Exactly what does your dad do when he goes out of town?”

  “He—helps businesses. With their auditing, their accounting.”

  “Then how would The Hand know him?” Sara asked, her brow furrowed in a slight frown.

  “Maybe that’s not really what he does.” Amanda’s voice was dark.

  Jaci had nothing to say to that. Her own questions plagued her. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked her body. She wouldn’t tell them the nickname they had for her father.

  After awhile she got used to the cold, and the constant patter of the rain became almost melodic. “It’s peaceful here.”

  Amanda nodded, purple rings under her eyes making her look sickly. “Yeah. It makes me feel calm.”

  Tears welled up in the corners of Sara’s eyes. “It feels so clean.”