"You're sure this is the best place to wait?" he asked her, as if she'd chosen it.
"You chose it for a good reason, Carlos," she said. "If he is going to the lake or to his own house, then he will have to pass here. It's secluded, and we can move into place as soon as we get the word."
"If we get the word."
"Your man is in Durant's office, yes? He will see when Nolan passes."
"Sí, sí. But if it doesn't work..."
She didn't respond. She didn't want to show her doubt, nor did she want to be too confident. If she doubted and it worked, then Carlos would be angry with her for her lack of faith. If she was confident and it didn't work, then he would blame her, though the idea hadn't been hers.
Carlos's phone rang, and he answered quickly. "Well?" He waited while the other man talked. She could hear just enough in the silent car to know the caller was Mateo. A wide smile split Carlos's face, and Vanessa knew they'd had success. "Excellent work. Stay, keep watch. We may need her."
Need her.
The last thing Vanessa wanted was for Carlos to see Kelsey alive again. She couldn't complain—it had been her information that had led them to locate her. It was hard to balance, this desire to be helpful to Carlos and the desire to have Kelsey gone from his life forever.
She'd chosen to help him. She hoped it wouldn't fire back in her face.
CHAPTER FORTY
The police station was buzzing with activity. As if the explosion hadn't been enough to keep everybody busy, the roads were getting slick, and there'd been a couple of auto accidents. The small force was stretched thin, but even though Eric was there in body, he was too distracted to help.
He needed a plan.
After he picked up Kelsey, they'd head south, probably find a hotel in northern Massachusetts. Tomorrow, he'd purchase a cheap car with cash, then call Brady and tell him where he could pick up his truck.
Only when they had a fresh car would they contact Nate. They'd keep to back roads, get Daniel, and then...
What?
He had no idea where to go from there. They'd all need new identities. So... Boston? New York? How would they procure fake driver's licenses and such? Maybe Kelsey would know. She'd done it before.
He squeezed his eyes closed, prayed for help, for guidance, for direction.
And thought about Kelsey.
As awful as it was to have to run, Eric couldn't stem the eager hope that rose in him. Because they were going to run together, just like they were always meant to be. They'd rent an apartment, maybe even a house. They'd get jobs. They'd raise Daniel.
Daniel.
The boy would call him Daddy.
Eric squeezed his eyes closed and imagined it. Imagined that great kid as his own. Maybe not by blood, but in every other way, Eric would make Daniel his son.
And maybe, someday, he and Kelsey would have another child. Maybe a whole passel of them. They would be together. They would be a family.
Finally.
He just had to get from here to there. Eyes still closed, Eric breathed a silent prayer, the image of his family taking the place of all the words he couldn't seem to form. God was with them, and he would lead them to safety.
When Eric opened his eyes, he focused again on the chaos surrounding him.
One conversation rose above the others. He listened to a fellow detective who was on the phone discussing the explosion. According to him, only one body had been found in the ruined barn. The door had been connected to a tripwire. When Durant opened it...
Boom.
Which meant Carlos and his men were still out there, and they were willing to kill to get what they wanted.
A patrolman came in brushing snow off his hat and shoulders and announced that the roads were nearly empty of traffic. Most folks were tucked in for the night. Eric stood, crossed the crowded squad room. Every officer in town was on duty tonight, and a few state investigators were there as well, working the explosion. Eric ignored them all and cornered the patrolman who'd just walked in.
"Did you see anything suspicious? Anybody hanging around town?"
The cop, one of their younger guys, narrowed his eyes. "We're all on alert looking for your friends. We've seen no sign of anybody suspicious. The only cars out there right now are covered with an inch of snow."
"Okay. Good." Eric inhaled a deep breath. It was time to go.
He called Rae's cell phone—he'd get Kelsey one at the first opportunity.
Kelsey answered on the second ring. "Are you on your way?"
He smiled into the phone. "I'm leaving now. If all goes well, I'll be there in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Be ready, okay?"
"I'll be watching at the window. Be safe."
After Eric hung up, he headed out the back door. Would he ever return to this place? Would they ever be free to reclaim their lives?
Eric didn't even turn around. He'd give up everything to be with Kelsey.
He crossed the snow-covered parking lot and climbed into Brady's truck. Night had fallen while he'd been inside, and the glow from the police station's windows reflected off the fresh snow. The storm had moved in soundly now. A good two inches covered the cars in the lot. Eric turned onto the road, saw the reflection of the snowfall in the streetlights along Crystal Ave. Not a great night to escape unnoticed, but fortunately, he knew all the back roads between here and Manchester. He'd keep to them, away from traffic and prying eyes, until they were safely in the city. He passed his Jeep with barely a glance and made it through the small downtown and to the country road leading to the lake in less than five minutes.
Up ahead, something reflected off the snow-white world. He approached slowly, letting his headlights illuminate the space. A red sedan, New Hampshire plates, pulled over on the side of the road. A figure stepped out and waved. Based on the long hair and slight figure, it was a woman. Impossible to tell her age from here.
No way was he stopping. He'd call the station, have them send someone out.
Twenty feet in front of him, the woman stepped into the road.
Eric swore and slammed on the brakes. The truck slid, and the woman dove out the way just in time. The truck spun to the right. Eric spun the wheel to the left, but it was too late.
The truck slid off the right edge and crashed into the snowbank.
He wrenched the door open and stepped outside. "Are you insane?" He wasn't even sorry he'd shouted.
The woman's eyes were wide. "I'm sorry. Please do not be angry. I didn't mean...My car is broken. Perhaps the engine. Maybe can you help? Maybe can you...?"
Her words trailed off. She spoke with an accent he couldn't place. Sounded...Slavic? Perhaps she was a student at UNH. He stopped about five feet from her. She was young, maybe twenty, and very attractive. Tall and slender with long blond hair, dark blue eyes, and pale skin. She wore a fitted jacket that looked barely warm enough for early fall, certainly not warm enough for this weather.
Her beauty didn't distract him from the fact that she'd run him off the road, nearly killing herself in the process. He clenched his teeth to keep more angry words from coming out. His hands were shaking with fury.
Kelsey. He had to get to Kelsey.
He took a deep breath, glanced toward Brady's truck.
"I'm sorry," she said again. Her words sounded frantic. "I didn't think. I'm not good in the snow. Maybe can you can fix my engine. I can pay."
He forced a neutral tone. "I'll call you a tow truck. You wait here."
She stepped toward him. "Please, you will help?"
Something wasn't right. His slid his hand inside his jacket and over his firearm. "Have a seat in your car, and I'll call you a tow."
She took another step toward him.
He lifted his free hand and held it out in the universal sign for stop. "Ma'am, I'm a police officer. Sit in the car, and I'll call someone."
Her eyes widened, blinked. For a moment, he was sure she'd comply. Her voice was a fervent whisper when she said, "Please, do not mo
ve." Her gaze widened, darted now, left and right.
Every muscle tensed. He stifled the urge to spin.
"I will open the hood," she said loudly. "And you can look?" She took another step, a small step. She was within a foot now. Her voice was barely a whisper. "If you pull out that gun, they'll kill us both." Her smile hadn't changed, but now her eyes were filled with fear.
Options. Dive, hit the ground, come up shooting at...whoever it was this woman was afraid of. Except that would leave her exposed.
He could tackle her, protect her with his body, and turn to fight. But he had no idea how many he was up against. If he were alone, he'd chance it. But he couldn't put this woman's life in danger, too. Assuming she wasn't lying about everything. Assuming she wasn't in on this, whatever this was. He was nearly positive this was a trap, that the woman was up to no good. But there was no way he could know for sure. No way he'd risk this stranger's life based on his gut.
Which left only one option. He started to slip his hand out of his jacket, but she shook her head, stepped closer still. "Give it to me. Quick. He's coming."
No, no, no!
"You have to trust me," she said.
He slid the gun out. She was only inches away. She snatched it, slipped it beneath her jacket, and turned to lean in her car. Over her shoulder to him she said, very clearly, "I will open engine, no?"
The hood popped, but his gaze was on her as she slipped the gun into a purse. At least she hadn't shot him.
He balled his hands into fists, itching to fight. He strained to hear, but the fresh snow muffled every sound. It was deafeningly quiet.
Thank God he hadn't picked up Kelsey yet. That was his only solace as he waited for whatever would happen next.
A voice came from behind him, probably on the other side of the road. "I have a gun pointed at the back of your head." The man spoke with a slight Spanish accent. "Do not move."
Eric forced himself to stay still and calm.
"Search him," the man said.
The woman approached, patted him down like a pro. Eric had been duped. Except...she'd hidden his gun. Maybe she would help him. Or maybe she'd help herself, somehow, and leave him to die.
The second option seemed more likely.
She took his wallet and cell phone and stepped back. "No weapons."
Eric stayed very still, refused to give anyone any reason to hurt him. He had to stay focused, to think.
Though he couldn't see the man behind him, and he couldn't hear him walking in the soft snow, he could feel him approaching.
The seconds seemed to tick by in slow motion. Finally, a man stepped into view. Mid-forties, Hispanic, longish dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin.
Otero.
THE trunk.
Eric shifted, tried to keep his limbs from falling asleep as they rested against the hard metal floor in the tiny space. Maybe the red sedan's trunk wasn't tiny, but it had definitely not been made to hold a grown man's body.
The road crunched beneath the tires. They drove forward a little ways, then took a right and stopped. A moment later, the distant sound of a car door slamming. The truck probably. They couldn't leave it on the main road, of course. One of the sedan doors opened, then slammed, confirming his suspicions. They'd dumped Brady's truck somewhere out of sight.
Their voices were muffled. They didn't talk much, and he talked more than she did. She sounded...frightened. Maybe she would help him. Maybe all wasn't truly lost.
They did a U-turn, then turned left, he thought probably heading back the way they'd come. Then another left, away from the highway, though he didn't have any idea on what road.
Since that turn, they'd continued straight. Eric tried to imagine the options. Where could they be headed? Not toward any neighborhoods in Nutfield, not considering how long they'd been driving.
Time inched along faster than the car on these slick roads.
At least Kelsey hadn't been with him. Eric wanted to grasp onto that hope, but he kept asking himself the same question. If they wanted Kelsey, why not just follow Eric? Then they'd have them both.
Maybe they didn't want Kelsey. Maybe they only wanted Daniel.
That didn't make sense, though. Kelsey would be their best shot at finding Daniel.
Eric refused to face the only logical conclusion. Because if Otero hadn't followed Eric to Kelsey, then that meant he already knew where she was.
Eric couldn't think about that. He had to focus.
A moment later, a clue rumbled beneath the tires. The unmistakable sound of the rickety bridge that led toward Eric's house.
They wouldn't be going to his house, though. Too risky. But somewhere nearby. The bridge was a good five minutes from Eric's house, more like seven in this weather. He watched the seconds tick by on the glow-in-the-dark hands of his watch. About four minutes later, the car turned left.
The road they were on now didn't sound like a road at all. There was no sound of asphalt. Where were they? A logging road?
He closed his eyes, thought of the road he'd traveled every day, and tried to remember. Yes, there was an old logging road, barely wide enough for a car.
He tried to focus on that and not on the bumps that had him bouncing painfully off the metal floor of the trunk.
Three minutes had passed when the car finally stopped.
Eric took a deep breath, braced himself for what was coming.
A moment later, the trunk opened, and Eric squinted against the flashlight beam pointed at his face.
"Get out." The male voice didn't belong to Otero.
Eric blinked, tried to see who was there, how many he was up against.
A man grasped his upper arm and yanked.
Eric pulled back, lifted his hands. "Okay. I'm getting out."
The man—men, Eric realized—stepped out of his way, and he climbed out.
Beyond the two men stood a log cabin surrounded by tall pines and oaks.
The men grabbed his arms, one on each side, and ushered him toward the structure. Up the stairs, through a door. Inside, stairs went both up and down—a split-level. He was shoved toward the flight that went to the basement.
He counted the enemies. Otero and the woman, who he thought were still outside. Plus the two men with him.
Four enemies. Assuming the woman wasn't going to help him, and he couldn't count on her now.
At the bottom of the stairs, Eric was pushed down a short hallway and into a brightly-lit room.
The deja vu hit him as soon as he entered.
The bed, the windows, the heating vent on the ceiling. He glanced to his right, saw camera equipment pushed against the back wall. This was the room Sam and Garrison had found photos of on the deep web. This was TakeTwo's studio.
Barry Durant's studio.
Durant wouldn't be needing it again.
In front of the bed he saw a wooden ladder back chair. The men turned him, shoved him into the chair. One of them yanked his arms around the chair back and pulled on his hands, trying to get them close enough together to bind, Eric assumed. But the chair was too wide. His arms wouldn't reach each other, not that the man didn't try. Eric winced at the pain in his shoulders as the man yanked his arms back.
"They're not going to reach, dude." The man pressing down on Eric's shoulders, keeping him in place, was watching the whole thing. He looked mid-twenties with hair shoulder-length and bleach-blond. He wore a bright red parka and a pair of sunglasses on his head like he was waiting for the perfect wave to hang ten. "Just cuff him to the chair."
A moment later, zip ties bound each of Eric's hands to the back of the chair, one on each side. He had to slouch to keep the ties from cutting into his wrists.
He could hardly imagine a more vulnerable position.
Unfortunately, he could imagine what was coming next.
The man who'd been behind him came around the chair and faced him. He was chubby, red-faced, and bald. He wore a sadistic smile.
As soon as he was secure, Chubby lifted
his cell phone. "Smile."
Eric glared, but Chubby snapped a picture anyway.
Eric didn't have time to think about where that photo was going, because a moment later, Otero walked into the room.
Chubby and Surfer Dude stepped away as if they were bowing to a sovereign.
Otero stopped a few feet in front of Eric and looked down at him. "Pleasure to meet you, Eric Nolan."
"Wish I could say the same," Eric said.
The man chuckled. "Yes, I assume this isn't how you imagined our meeting would go."
"Not exactly."
"Fortunately for you, I am not a sadistic man. I do not wish to harm you. If you will just tell me where my child is, I will let you go, and you can live your life in peace."
"Right. And if you let me go, I promise not to hunt you down and make you pay for what you did to my wife. We can just part as friends. Is that it?"
Otero's smile stretched across his face. "Yes, well, it was worth a try."
"She gave your kid up for adoption right after he was born."
Otero's face turned red. "You are lying."
Eric would've shrugged, if he could have moved his shoulders. "Why would I bother? Why would I care what happens to your spawn?"
Surfer Dude stepped closer. "Like, I'll get the truth out of him. Just give me a few."
"Patience." Otero turned, walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
In the bedroom upstairs, Vanessa sat on the king-sized bed. Aside from that, the room was bare—no clothes, no bureau, no clock.
She hated to think what Durant had used this room for. She didn't have to try hard to imagine. She only had to grope her own memories. She was sure the girls who made it into Durant's videos had also all seen the inside of this room.
Nausea rose, and she rubbed her stomach. "You, little one, will never be treated like property." She whispered the words like a vow. She would see to it or die trying.
She'd been banished to this awful room after they'd returned with Eric Nolan. Banished to wait where she was safe.
She didn't even have Mateo to blame it on. This was all Carlos's doing. Mateo was outside the cabin where Kelsey was hiding, which they only knew about because of her.
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