Altercation Read online

  Agent Banks stepped into the room. “All right, kids. Let’s move out. Car’s already in the garage.”

  Sara clung to her brothers, and Jaci followed them up the stairs. Ricky pulled away from Sara and paused in the doorway, forcing everyone to bump into him as they passed. He kept his eyes on Jaci.

  She could only hold his gaze for a moment before she looked down at the carpet. She didn’t trust her emotions. She kept her eyes down as she squished past him, aware of how his shoulder brushed hers.

  They trooped through the living room and kitchen. Banks opened the garage door. A tan Ford Escort sat inside, engine humming.

  “Come on,” Banks said.

  Jaci stepped into the garage at the same time as Amanda, but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back in. She whirled around and Ricky closed the garage door with one hand. He twisted the knob in the middle, locking it.

  “What are you doing?” she said, shocked.

  Ricky shoved his brown hair out of his face. “I just need a moment with you.” He pulled her closer. “You won’t forget me, will you?”

  Jaci closed her eyes. The tears came now, forcing their way past her tightly shut eyelids. She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

  Ricky’s breath warmed her ear and he kissed the side of her face.

  The door knob rattled and she jumped away from him. Ricky scowled and locked the deadbolt.

  She twisted her hands together, keeping her eyes on the door separating them from the others. “When will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The deadbolt unlocked and Agent Banks poked his head in. “Out. Now.”

  Jaci followed Ricky into the garage, nervous and tingly. She could feel the others watching them.

  Banks clapped his hands. “All right, say your goodbyes and let’s go.”

  Jaci didn’t move off the garage steps. She had said all the goodbyes she could handle.

  Ricky grabbed Neal and gave him a fierce hug. “Goodbye, Neal! I’ll miss you!”

  “Ha ha,” Neal smirked. He turned to Sara, who threw her arms around his neck in a death grip.

  “Don’t go. Please don’t go!”

  Jaci turned her face away from the scene, only looking up when the car doors banged shut. She searched the back windows, seeking Ricky.

  The car backed out of the driveway and roared away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The gun felt hot in Jaci’s hand. She pointed it again at the man in front of her. Claber. Hatred fueled her actions, and she pulled the trigger, aiming for his face. She shot him, and half of his head blew away, blood and skin splattering outward. He stumbled backward, and then swiveled up to glare at her.

  But this time it wasn’t Claber. It was a police officer. His wound gaped, his good eye staring at her in confusion and bewilderment.

  Behind her a woman screamed. Jaci turned.

  The woman stood, two hands pressed to her cheeks. Her white dress billowed around her in the wind. “No!” Tears flowed from her face and she stared at Jaci like she was a monster. “No! Don’t hurt him!”

  What had she done? Jaci dropped the gun and backed away. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!”

  Jaci jerked awake from her dream. Her heart pounded and she inhaled through her mouth, trying to slow her breathing. She had the same dream at least once a week, with sometimes varying characters and incidents, but always a weapon and a man, the horror of knowing she’d hurt someone.

  She held her breath at the sound of a footstep padding across the carpet. She blinked, adjusting to the sliver of light creeping in under the bedroom door. She saw a pink t-shirt stepping closer.

  “Sara,” Jaci breathed.

  The girl stopped, pausing at the foot of the bed. “Jaci? Did I wake you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sara climbed into Jaci’s bed and snuggled next to her. “Tomorrow we leave this place,” she whispered. “We leave each other.”

  “I know.” Fear pulled at Jaci. “What do you think’s going to happen to us?”

  “Something bad.”

  “Something bad happened once, Sara. It’s not like a consistent pattern.”

  She shook her head, moving Jaci’s pillow. “No one ever listens to me.”

  November 2, Montreal, Canada

  The second person Carl looked up when he got to Canada was the RCMP inspector who’d worked with him the last time he was in Montreal. Inspector Ancelin had been extremely helpful in tracking down Rachel and Natalie.

  Carl’s hopes of finding The Hand had dissipated when they found the vacant house. Carl knew The Hand hadn’t stayed around Montreal. A sweep of the house revealed fingerprints and DNA samples everywhere. But no clues as to where he had gone. No notes hidden in bathroom mirrors. No invisible ink on the counters.

  But maybe some of his former connections knew where he was.

  “Detective.” Ancelin rose with a smile and shook Carl’s hand. “Please come in. I’m very pleased to hear from you.” Ancelin took a seat behind his desk. Today he was in normal dress clothes, not the ceremonial red coat that he’d been in the first time Carl met him.

  “Thank you for seeing me.” Carl sat in the guest chair in front of Ancelin. “As I mentioned to you before I left Idaho, I’ve been put on the case to locate The Hand. I’m working in conjunction with the FBI, but they’re letting me do the leg work.”

  Ancelin touched his fingertips together and gave a nod. “So there has been no sign of the girls?”

  Carl blinked and kept his face stoic. He’d forgotten that even the RCMP didn’t know the girls had been found. He’d almost let that one slip. “We lost them in New York. Turns out some of our cops were playing dirty just like yours were.”

  Ancelin grimaced. “How unfortunate.”

  “Yes. That’s why I need to track down The Hand.”

  “What have you found so far?”

  “Other than his property, not much. As I’m sure you saw from the police report, he vacated it not too long ago. So. Do you have any leads?”

  “He has his own file downstairs and all of the police interviews are in it. I searched on the name you gave me, Jeff Truman. He has used the alias before, but mostly in the United States.”

  Ancelin and Carl went downstairs to another office. Ancelin unlocked a file cabinet built into the wall. He patted a drawer. “This is it. You have my permission to photocopy anything that might be of use.”

  Carl grunted. If only all law enforcers were so readily agreeable. He opened the first folder and scanned the transcribed interview of a French police officer. He flipped to the next page. Another interview. Being a bilingual nation, everything was written in French with an English transcript. “Can I speak with these officers?”

  “Of course.” Ancelin pointed to a hand-written address in the left hand corner. “Place of employment. If they give you any difficulties, refer them to me.” Ancelin gave a grim smile and left Carl to his research.

  Carl pulled a table over and organized the files. He read each one carefully, putting aside the ones that he wanted to photocopy.

  When the hum of voices quieted down and Carl’s stomach began to rumble, he glanced at his watch. Four-thirty. No wonder he was hungry. He had two more files left. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to interview the officers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jaci had been sick to her stomach all morning. Nerves, she imagined. In a few hours they would be driven to different, unknown locations.

  Her stomach pitched over again and she could understand how Sara got sick when she was upset.

  Sara tossed the Uno cards down on the glass-top coffee table. The big screen TV droned on, the volume turned down. “Where do you think we’ll go?”

  Amanda chewed on a toothpick
and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll be close to each other. The Hand might not guess that.”

  Sara gave a short laugh. “He guesses everything.”

  Jaci picked up her cards and tried to focus on the colors and numbers. Two more hours. “There are fifty states. I bet I go to . . . Texas.” She put down a yellow five.

  “Hmm.” Amanda matched it with a red five. “I’m going to Hawaii.”

  “What universe do you live in? I’m going to Wyoming,” Sara said, slapping down a Skip. “Least populated state in the U.S. He’ll never find me.”

  The basement door clicked as it unlocked. Jaci recognized the red stilettos and black nylons before she saw the owner.

  “Crystal,” she said, surprised to see their therapist.

  Crystal’s head appeared around the stairwell, and she gave a small smile. “Girls.” She wore a black dress suit, her blond hair in a bun at the nape of her neck.

  “What are you doing here?” Sara asked.

  “Official business. I’m taking you three to the drop-off point.”

  Jaci raised her eyebrows. “Drop-off point?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at her nails. “I volunteered. I wanted one more pow-wow with you anyway.”

  Sara shrugged. “I’ve said all I’ve got to say.”

  “You girls have been holding out on me. Why didn’t anyone tell me about the men who accosted you in the forest?”

  Sara’s eyes darted to Jaci and she looked back at Crystal, giving a shake of her head.

  “Why is it important?” Jaci asked. Her head pounded at the mere mention. “Some things aren’t fun to talk about.”

  Crystal softened her tone. “But these things affect you, Jaci. You have to talk about them.”

  Sara turned to Jaci. “I think I left my shampoo in the bathroom. Can you check for me?”

  Something was going on. Jaci pushed herself to her feet. “Yeah . . . sure.” As soon as she left the room, she heard the low murmur of voices. Part of Jaci wanted to tiptoe to the door and eavesdrop. The other part was quite content to pretend she didn’t notice. One thing was certain: they were hiding something from her.

  There was no shampoo in the bathroom. Jaci dawdled anyway until Crystal knocked on the door. “Jaci? Time to go.”

  She came out reluctantly. “They told us two hours.”

  Crystal shook her head. “Two hours until we rendezvous. Time to go now.”

  “Where’s the rendezvous?”

  “One hour from here. We’ll meet up, switch cars, and you’ll all be taken away.”

  “And we won’t know where each other are,” Sara said.

  “That is for your own safety.” Crystal looked them over. “Get your stuff, then! Let’s go!”

  Banks was watching a football game upstairs. He barely glanced at Crystal and the girls.

  “Guess he didn’t get too attached,” Sara whispered in Jaci’s ear.

  Jaci cast her gaze around the safe house, a melancholy ache filling her chest. For a few days, they’d been safe. They’d been together. She hated to leave.

  Agent Magrew poked her head out of the office at the end of the hall. She handed several green folders to Crystal. “Here are their papers. Don’t open them. Give them to the agents at the rendezvous.”

  “I will,” Crystal said, clasping the folders against her chest.

  Crystal’s blue sedan waited in the dark garage. The girls climbed into the backseat. Jaci sat in the middle between Sara and Amanda.

  “All right.” Crystal rolled the car through the gate and picked up speed on the country road. “Now I know this is the last time you girls are going to see each other for awhile. Anyone want to talk about it?”

  Amanda shook her head. “No. Just slow down.”

  Crystal chuckled. “I can do better than that. Anyone want to go to McD’s?”

  Jaci felt so nervous over the upcoming separation that food was far from her mind.

  “Or not,” Crystal said with a shrug. “I just thought some fries and cheeseburgers might make you feel better.”

  Jaci’s stomach rumbled, as if rebelling over her emotions. She wilted a bit, imagining the hot salty fries.

  Amanda combed her fingers over the upholstery. “How far away is McDonald’s?”

  “Close. Ten minutes from here. We’ve got time to spare.”

  “Is it safe?” Jaci asked.

  “You’ll never even get out of the car, sweetie.” Crystal looked at her in the rearview mirror. “I’ve got good tinting. No one will see you.”

  “Well, okay.” She leaned back against the seat, grateful for the delay.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Sara asked. “I mean, what safe houses they’re sending us to?”

  “I don’t, and I couldn’t tell you even if I did. How are you girls dealing?”

  “How are we supposed to deal?” Amanda grumbled. “After everything we’ve been through, and then they just expect us to say goodbye? Go somewhere where we don’t know a soul, and trust them to protect us?”

  Jaci rested her elbows on the compartment between the front seats. “I mean, really. They’re the FBI. Can’t they keep us together?”

  “Being together won’t keep you safe.” Crystal pulled into McDonald’s and put the car into park. “All right, who wants what?”

  Sara said, “A chocolate milkshake.”

  “Jaci?”

  “Fries and a Big Mac.”

  “Cheeseburger and fries,” Amanda said.

  “Okay.” Crystal undid her seatbelt. Giving a soft sigh, she turned around and studied the three of them. “You girls are going to be fine. Keep your heads down.” She patted Jaci’s elbow and climbed out of the car.

  “Let’s find some music.” Amanda gave the other two girls a grin and pushed her slender frame up to the front of the car. She scanned for radio stations until she found one pumping pop songs across the waves. “Oh my gosh, I know this song!” She crashed back into her seat.

  “Stay low,” Jaci hissed. “And turn the volume down. Someone will hear.”

  The driver’s side door opened and Jaci sat up. Crystal hadn’t been gone long enough to get their food.

  It wasn’t Crystal. A man wearing a baseball cap and a blue windbreaker slammed the door shut and backed out of the parking lot. Hitting the radio, he turned off the music.

  “Hey!” Amanda cried. “What are you doing?”

  He pressed a button on his cell phone. “I’ve got them.”

  Jaci couldn’t breathe. She felt her eyes bug open. She clutched at her shirt, gasping.

  “You can’t take this car!” Amanda lunged forward. “This is FBI property!”

  The man’s hand smacked her in the face, slamming her into the seat. “Shut up.” He moved into the left turn bay and stopped, waiting for traffic.

  The door next to Jaci opened and Sara threw herself out of the car.

  “Sara!” Jaci screamed, shocked out of silence. She fumbled with her seatbelt, about to fly out after her.

  The man swore and got out long enough to close Jaci’s door. Climbing back in, he locked the doors and put the car into reverse.

  No sign of Sara. Jaci’s eyes scanned the traffic and the street. No squealing tires, no screams, no horns honking. Maybe Sara would get away.

  The car jolted forward again. He made his left turn and peeled down the street far faster than the posted speed limit. Yanking the phone out again, he made a quick call. “Two and Three in vehicle. One escaped. Meeting at corner C.”

  Jaci slid closer to Amanda, who hadn’t moved since he’d smacked her. “Amanda? Are you hurt?”

  The girl lifted her face, revealing a shiny bruise on her left cheekbone. “Not too bad.”

  Jac
i swallowed, fear pounding in her temples. They’d been kidnapped—again.

  November 5, Montreal, Canada

  Carl stepped into Chez Ashton, a popular fast-food joint famous for its poutine. A strange dish, in Carl’s opinion, made of cottage cheese, French fries, and gravy. His body shivered when he stepped from the bitter cold air into the heated restaurant.

  But he wasn’t here for the food. He had made two fantastic turkey sandwiches for lunch, complete with four bread and butter pickles each. He wasn’t hungry.

  He stepped up to the cashier and tried out his sad French. “Monsieur Julien est ici?”

  A teenager with a lip ring and dull brown eyes looked at him without saying anything, and Carl thought he hadn’t understood. Just as he was about to repeat himself, the boy said something and left the register.

  Carl leaned back, glancing around the restaurant. The neon lights and bright colors made him think of a Denny’s. The employees wore maroon and gold uniforms with pointed hats. He felt a little sorry for Officer Julien—former Officer Julien—for being reduced to working in fast-food.

  Then again, the man was lucky not to be in jail. There’d been enough evidence to get him discharged, but not condemned.

  The teenager returned with a man looking every bit the part of a restaurant manager. Stress lines framed the corners of his mouth and tired blue eyes. He put on a forced smile and greeted Carl.

  No more French. Carl extended his hand and said, “Do you speak English?”

  Surprise flashed through Julien’s eyes a moment before his face went poker. “Who are you and what do you want?” His voice came out cold and even.

  “Please. I’m not here on anything official.” Carl used his best consoling tone, the one that helped suspects to relax and victimized citizens to trust him. “I only have a few questions. Off the record.” He pulled out his badge and showed it to the man. “Do you have a moment when we can sit and talk?”