by Nicole Helm
Yes, a gun will defend you from a horde of gang members. Why did she think she could do this?
Because it’s the only choice.
The only choice. She repeated that to herself as she turned back to face the house. She searched the dark, seeing a dozen shadows that looked like they were moving toward her.
Her imagination and tricks of the moonlight. She listened to the night. No footsteps. Just the wind and the trees and...
Horses. The distinct sound of a horse snuffling. She must be close to the stables, and Gigi had mentioned a horse. Maybe that would give her some kind of clue, or at least a better, safer vantage point.
Liza moved toward the noise and realized she was ridiculously close to a large, squat building that clearly housed the stables. She reached out and touched the wood. She was at the back, maybe, because there was no door or window on this side.
She used her hands to guide her as she felt her way toward the front. The door into the building had a big chain and padlock on it. Strange.
Dread crept along Liza’s spine, but she inched forward, still trying to find the source of the horse noises.
Eventually she came to a high window, the soft nose of a horse sticking out of it. There was something like a door—also locked with a padlock—but the door itself was more like a gate—big bars with space between them.
Liza crouched down and looked through the gate, seeing if she could peer into the stables for any clues. She was too close to the house to turn her headlamp on, so she had to hope moonlight was enough as she squinted into the dark.
At first, it was just moving, melting dark that she couldn’t be sure was actually moving, or just her eyes playing tricks. But as she watched and her eyes adjusted, she was almost certain she saw something moving around deep in the stables. It could be anything. Other animals. Mice.
She shuddered, squinting through the gate until she was almost certain she saw...
Eyes.
Liza kept perfectly still, watching as the eyes moved back into the shadows. But something was moving closer. She held her breath, adjusted the gun in her grip.
The figure was small. Too small to be a man. Too small to be anything but a child.
“Gigi,” Liza whispered, more hope than certainty.
“Sissy?”
Liza nearly collapsed. She swallowed down tears as pudgy fingers curled around the gate, Gigi’s dirty face peering at her through the spaces in the bars.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” Gigi whispered, glancing warily at the cabin.
Liza tried not to sob as she fell to her knees to put her eye level with Gigi. “I’m not either, baby.”
“I want Mommy.”
“I know. I know.” Liza studied the gate. The height from the ground to the top of the window. “Can you climb up here?”
Gigi looked up, then her mouth curved just a hint. “George will help me.”
George? “No—no, don’t tell any—”
But Gigi was scurrying away. Liza let out a sigh of relief when she only went over to the horse in the stall.
“Mommy taught me a trick,” Gigi said—too loud, far too loud.
Liza pressed her face to the gate. “You’ve got to whisper, baby. We have to be careful. Anyone could be out here and the only way we get out of here safe is if we’re very, very quiet.”
“No. It’s meeting time. We’re all alone until the lights upstairs go out. Then someone comes with supper.”
“They’re keeping you out here?” Even though all signs pointed to it, she could hardly believe it. Tony Dean was a monster, and she’d been locked in her share of rooms and closets, growing up with him as a father. But Gigi was so sweet.
Silly to think there was any difference between how Tony would have treated her, and how he would have treated Gigi. Daughters were useless, until they weren’t. Why wouldn’t he treat Gigi just as badly, if not worse?
Gigi didn’t respond to Liza’s question out loud. It was possible she nodded or shook her head, but it was too hard to see in the dark. Gigi whispered something to the animal, then it seemed to... It seemed to kneel.
Liza fairly gasped as Gigi shimmied up the horse’s large body into a sitting position on the horse’s back. Liza heard a thud and realized that Gigi was giving the horse a pat as it got back onto its feet. Higher up, the moonlight glinted against Gigi’s blond hair and big smile. Her grip was in the horse’s mane, and she learned forward and pressed her cheek to the horse.
“Mommy said George would help me escape someday,” Gigi said, sadness creeping into her tone.
“Your mommy was right,” Liza managed to squeak, ignoring the tears tracking down her cheeks. “Come here, George,” she encouraged the horse.
The massive horse made its way close enough to the gate so Liza could hold out her arms. Gigi pulled herself onto the top of the gate without hesitation, like she’d done this before. Who knew, maybe she had. Maybe she and Carlee had worked on this very escape.
Liza couldn’t think about that too much right now. She held out her arms and Gigi jumped into them with an easy trust that made tears clog her throat.
Liza hugged Gigi tight, wanting to cry over the little girl being in her arms again, but there was no time. Liza glanced at the upstairs lights—still on—but that didn’t mean no one was watching.
“Daddy said he’s going to kill George. When the time is right,” Gigi said, laying her cheek against Liza’s shoulders and squeezing tight as if to assure herself Liza was real.
Liza didn’t know what to say to that. This horse had potentially saved Gigi’s life in this moment. “No, we won’t let that happen.” Somehow, they’d figure out a way to come back and get George.
Now, it was up to Liza to save Gigi. She was here, impossibly here, with Gigi in her arms. Everything was going to be okay.
Gigi being out here by herself was some miracle and Liza had to use that miracle to her advantage. “Listen, baby. We’re going to run away, okay. You just hold on to me and be real quiet.”
Gigi lifted her head. “What about the others?”
Liza’s blood went cold. “What others?”
Gigi pointed back at the stables. “The others. I’m supposed to stay with the others.”
Hell.
Chapter Fifteen
Jamison was starting to believe he’d headed in the wrong direction. It was dark and he was tired and maybe he’d lost all sense of direction. Maybe he was walking in circles, destined to cause everyone in his life to die.
He shoved that thought away. Luckily, he had some practice with battling those voices, those doubts. He hadn’t let anyone die when he’d been a kid. Under no circumstances would he allow it to happen now.
So, he kept moving forward and didn’t allow doubts to threaten. Second-guessing himself would get him lost and likely get someone killed. He had to believe in himself, in his abilities. Like he was believing in Cody to do the right thing, and Liza to take care of herself.
Living life or death so often meant constantly believing in people. He knew some cops who got too bitter, or too arrogant, who didn’t think anyone could ever have their back.
But it was a death sentence when you knew life was on the line. Hope was so often the real difference between life and death.
Not just his or Liza’s or Gigi’s, but Cody’s, too, now.
His brother was involved in something, God only knew what. Considering there were explosives involved, Jamison had a hard time believing it was something within the law. That ate at him, if he’d let it.
And if he let it, he wasn’t worrying over walking in the wrong direction.
Hadn’t Jamison and his other brothers worked their butts off to give Cody every opportunity away from the Sons? Instead, he was in the thick of things—plotting with other people to blow things up.
It just
about figured.
He might have let that guilt and irritation fuel his forward progress, but he came up short when he saw lights ahead. The kind of light that came from homes. Warm and glowing dots in the distance.
Homes. It was so weird to think of the Sons in association with a home. Cabin, shack, stables. Sure, they’d probably stolen it from someone they’d killed, but it was so unlike the Sons’ MO Jamison had grown up with. He had to wonder how well he knew how to fight this new version of his father’s gang.
One that put down roots, and potentially sold and traded people. Liza had told him it had changed and in a way he’d understood that power and violence had grown unchecked. He’d understood he needed to look at them differently, maybe even fight them differently, but this new development of them doing “normal people” things while also potentially trafficking little girls... It seriously messed with him if he thought too much about it.
So, he couldn’t. He had to focus on how to fight it, because whether he was good at it now or not didn’t matter. He was still doing it.
He crept closer and closer to the light, pausing every so often to listen. Mostly it was all wind and branches rustling, but the closer he got, the more he thought he heard...whispering.
He moved toward the noise, continuing to pause, trying to determine if the voices were male or female. The Sons only used men for security or outside watches, and they wouldn’t necessarily have cause to whisper.
Jamison had to believe it wasn’t armed Sons men talking, but he couldn’t see the figures yet to tell for sure, so he could only creep closer and closer until the moonlight gave him some clues.
There was a small figure crouched next to a big building, and a larger figure trying to scale a...gate of some kind. Like they were trying to get inside—like she was trying to get inside.
“Liza.”
The figure bobbled, then fell to the ground, though landing on her feet. “Hurry,” she strained to whisper.
He moved toward them both, noticing the way the little girl scurried behind Liza’s legs and held on to them for dear life.
“Gigi, it’s okay,” Liza soothed, putting her hand on the girl’s head. “This is Jamison. He’s my friend and he’s going to help us. I promise.”
The little girl vigorously shook her head.
Liza crouched next to the girl as Jamison came closer. “Jamison is one of the few very good guys around. He saved me once. A long time ago. I promise he’s one of the good guys. He’s going to help.”
“You found her,” Jamison said stupidly. He couldn’t believe it. Here they both stood, alive and well. Now all they had to do was—
“She says there are more inside the stables. More girls,” Liza’s voice cracked on the last word.
So much for things being easy. Jamison let out a breath. “I found Cody. I just have to get a message to him and we’ll stop the explosives.” With nerveless fingers, Jamison pulled the device Cody had given him and hit the button once. It solved one problem, but not the other just as deadly threatening problem. “That should give us time. But we still have to get out of here. All we’ve managed to fix is the explosives situation.”
“Take Gigi. I’ll get the other girls.”
Jamison didn’t even pretend to consider that. He strode for the gate and studied it in the moonlight. “Give me a boost. I’ll go over and get them and hand them off to you. I’ll be able to get back out easier than you will, especially with your leg, and Gigi will feel safer with you out here.”
“Jamison.”
“No time to waste.” He adjusted his pack and put his hands atop the stall door. There’d be no way or time to get that padlock off, but he wasn’t altogether certain he could boost himself back over. Still, better him stuck in here than her.
He pulled himself up onto the ledge. He couldn’t get all the way up—it was just a pinch too high—so he instructed Liza to push him the rest of the way over.
He fell, and in the dark he couldn’t make it a particularly graceful fall. He landed on his side, jarring his elbow and his hip against the solid dirt ground that smelled like manure. His body vibrated with pain, but nothing was broken—yet.
Unfortunately the thudding, clumsy fall sent the horse into a bit of a panic. It whinnied and reared. Jamison was far more worried about the noise than any potential bodily harm. Nonetheless, he scurried back onto his feet trying to calm the horse.
“Shh. Shh. It’s all right,” he muttered, holding up his hands. The horse pranced in the small space of its outdoor stall, kicking up smells and noises and the potential for them all to die. “Shh,” Jamison continued, stepping a little closer. The horse continued to move nervously, but Jamison managed to get close enough to touch, to reassure.
He gently smoothed a hand over the horse’s flank and it settled some. It was likely somewhat used to strange men coming and going. After a few more calming words and soothing pets, the horse calmed completely.
He glanced back at the gate, Liza and Gigi standing there watching him. A lot riding on him and no time to waste.
With the horse stilled, he moved past it and into the dark of the stable building. He hesitated, looking around, but he couldn’t even see if there were windows or more gates. He’d need a light, as much as that was dangerous. He couldn’t do it without one.
He took the headlamp off his head and held it pointed to the ground as he flipped it on. By keeping the beam pointed downward, he hoped to avoid detection from the outside. Dirty hay was under his feet as he slowly swept the beam around. He found himself in a bigger stall. There was a door, and it was luckily unlatched. Presumably it was how Gigi had gotten into the stall, and to Liza, in the first place.
He slid through the stall door opening and into a long cement hallway of sorts. Around him were all sorts of stalls. He didn’t hear anyone or anything, which led him to believe they only had one horse.
And room for plenty of other horrors. The silence was what really got to him. There should be shuffling or moving, breathing or whispering if there were more people back here.
But he was a cop, and he knew his duty. He began to search the stable building like he would any other. He took each room methodically, carefully, keeping his beam of light low and away from anything that looked like a window to the outside. He checked corners and behind doors in every stall.
He doubted Gigi had made up the story about more people being in here, but maybe she was confused. Maybe they were somewhere else. But Gigi had somehow gotten to Liza, and even at four it wouldn’t be that confusing to know she’d left a group of people.
Why would Gigi have permission to get out to the horse, though? Special favors for the boss’s daughter? Doubtful if she’d witnessed her father murder her mother.
Jamison swept through another stall. He had yet to find a door that was padlocked shut like the outside doors, but he supposed locking the doors to escape from the outside was protection enough.
There was only one room left. It wasn’t like the stalls—it had a full door and was toward the back. Like some kind of stable hand’s quarters or a manager’s office. Jamison crept closer and still heard nothing that give any inclination human beings were trapped inside.
Living human beings anyway. It was possible Gigi had been left with dead bodies. He wouldn’t put it past the sons, and if they’d killed Carlee over this, who else might they have?
Still, though his soul recoiled from having to face it, the potential for dead bodies was one he’d live with, because he knew how to deal with horrors. He’d been dealing his whole life.
He would do whatever it took to protect the innocent—he’d made that promise to himself and the world a long time ago.
As he eased open the door and swept his light into the last room, he nearly sagged with relief. For the first time he found something besides empty cement or dirty hay. At least ten girls were huddled
in the corner. They winced against the light, holding on to each other and pushing closer together as if they could become invisible if they only pressed together tightly enough.
They had it down to an art form. He hadn’t heard them until he’d stepped inside. They’d made themselves so still, so silent, Jamison hadn’t heard ten girls until he’d been standing practically next to them.
Jamison had to access the cop part of himself that compartmentalized the cold horror away and act.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said quietly, keeping exactly where he was in the entrance to the stall so they didn’t feel threatened. He turned the light to shine on him, rather than them. “I’m not with the Sons. We’re going to get you out of here, but you’re going to have to listen to me, and you’re going to have to be very quiet.”
They huddled closer, and he doubted they believed him, but he couldn’t exactly force them out, either.
“I’m a police officer. Here...” It took precious time they didn’t have, but he couldn’t drag these girls out kicking and screaming. Not just because they’d be caught, but because these girls had been through enough.
He shrugged off his pack and unzipped the small, interior pocket. He grabbed the badge he’d shoved into the pack what felt like a million years ago but was only a few days. “Here’s my badge.” He shone the light on it. “I’m a police officer. I’m going to help you.”
Of course, if they were all Sons girls they’d been taught at a young age to distrust police, but he had to hope in this current situation they might change their mind.
No one moved. No one spoke. He returned the badge to its pocket, reshouldered his pack and put the lamp on his head.
“I just need you to come with me. One at a time. I’m going to take you to the horse’s stable outside. I’m going to help you over the gate. There’s a woman and the little girl who was in here with you waiting. Gigi? She’s already out. Once we’re all out, we’re going to run.”
“They’ll kill us if we run,” one of the girls whispered.