Altercation Page 19

  “But all of it, Seth?”

  He met her gaze, jaw clenched. “She’s my sister, Megan.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jaci held stock still while the old man unlocked the downstairs office. She kept her eyes glued on the molding in front of her. He opened the door and touched her forearm. Jaci flinched, pulling away from him.

  “Go on,” he said, his British accent making the words softer than they were. “I won’t touch you if you go on your own.”

  She looked past him into the room. Amanda lay in a heap on the floor, still unconscious from whatever the Grandón had done to her.

  Turning sideways to avoid having any part of her body touch the old man, Jaci slid into the room. He closed the door, turning the lock. Jaci lay down, curling into a ball. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come to her.

  “Jaci. Jaci!”

  She forced her scratchy eyelids to open. It felt like she had barely shut them. Her head was thick with grogginess. “Amanda?” She focused on the face hovering over her.

  Amanda pushed Jaci up into a sitting position. “I’m sorry; I should have let you sleep. But I was so glad to see you.” She shoved a hand through her brown hair.

  Jaci blinked again, taking in Amanda’s bloodshot eyes. For a moment she felt nothing, no fear or anxiety or relief. And then the memory of the night before descended, and a tiny convulsion shook her body.

  Amanda squeezed her hand. “Did he hurt you, Jaci?”

  She shook her head, exhaling. “He didn’t even touch me.” Amanda’s green eyes examined her, looking for lies. “Seriously.” Jaci tried to smile, but the horror of last night wrapped around her like a wet towel, and she shuddered.

  Amanda ducked her head to peer into Jaci’s face. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Not yet.”

  At least she was dressed. The Hand hadn’t brought her down here naked.

  A light rap sounded on the door. Jaci shifted her head toward it and Amanda leapt to her feet, hands balling into fists.

  The old man opened the door, a breakfast tray in his hands. The Grandón hovered behind. Backup, Jaci supposed, in case Amanda really did try to take the old man out.

  “Here you are.” The man’s light blue eyes crinkled in a smile, and he put the tray on the carpet. “I hope you don’t find it too dull. There are many books you can read.” He gestured around the office. “Try to make yourselves comfortable.”

  Jaci was at a loss for words. Comfortable? How exactly was she supposed to do that?

  Amanda kicked at the tray, sending a plastic cup of milk flying. “Get out of here, you pervert!”

  The Grandón intervened before another kick could fly. He grabbed her ankle and bent her leg. Amanda cried out and dropped to the ground.

  The old man tsked and picked up the cup. “Now you only have one cup to share between you.” He backed out of the room.

  The Grandón glared at Amanda before leaving them in their isolation.

  “Are you okay?” Jaci moved over to her friend.

  “Fine.” Amanda shoved her off. “Stupid jerks. Like I want their stupid food anyway.” She turned to the tray and picked up a napkin. “May as well see what’s here.”

  “May as well,” Jaci echoed.

  Amanda lowered her voice. “I’ve seen people unlock doors with a butter knife.”

  Interesting prospect. Jaci went through the whole tray. No utensils, not even plastic ones. But then, they weren’t really necessary with muffins.

  “They’re being too cautious,” Amanda complained, biting into her chocolate muffin.

  “Absolutely,” Jaci agreed around her bite. Finishing her muffin, she began to study the office. She opened the file cabinet, examining the metal workings inside the sliding drawer. If she took it apart, could she use it as a weapon?

  How much time would it buy, if she could? How many people could she take out with it?

  She closed the top drawer and opened the bottom. Envelopes.

  The door opened. Jaci spun around to see the Grandón. “Bathroom time. Just like before.” He pulled Amanda to her feet and hauled her out.

  The thought of a bathroom made Jaci’s bladder tingle. She hopped up and down, running her fingers over every piece of paper she could find. She moved her hands over the walls. Hopefully she was leaving fingerprints.

  The man returned with Amanda and led Jaci to the bathroom. This door had also been rearranged to lock from the outside. At least she had privacy.

  After a moment she stood from the toilet, careful not to make a sound. She slid her head behind the shower curtain. Her eyes immediately landed on a razor. She grabbed it, taking the pieces apart and shoving them in separate pockets.

  The Grandón pounded on the door.

  “I’m almost done!” She flushed the toilet and turned on the sink.

  He opened the door and stood there glaring at her.

  Jaci kept her eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t frisk her.

  He didn’t. He deposited her with Amanda, taking the breakfast tray and leaving them alone.

  Amanda looked at her and pressed a finger to her lips. Reaching inside her pants, she pulled out a comb.

  Jaci pulled out the razor parts.

  Amanda raised an eyebrow, giving Jaci a look of approval. Jaci put the pieces together and shoved it into her pocket. Her pants were loose enough that it didn’t even show.

  She went into the closet, glancing over the book titles. Most of them were British classics.

  “Anything good?” Amanda asked.

  Jaci shrugged. “If you like James Joyce.” Jaci didn’t even like to read. Her finger paused on Tess of the D’Urbervilles. College reading material. She had tried to read it last year when her brother Seth was reading it. She would’ve preferred something lighter, more engaging.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Jaci?”

  The return to this subject caught Jaci off guard. “Um, yeah.” Her face burned at the memory of last night, the way the Creep had grinned and stared at her, his beady black eyes taking in every inch of her skin.

  Jaci opened the book and sat down, desperate to get that image out of her mind.

  Amanda drummed her fingers on the carpet, eyes not leaving Jaci’s face. “Jaci.”

  She stopped again and looked up with a sigh. “Yes?”

  “Are you afraid to tell me? Because of how I reacted about Sara?”

  Jaci stared blankly at Amanda before the memory caught up to her. The heat rose up to her ears, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment for herself. She remembered how Amanda had acted when they found out Sara was pregnant, and Jaci’s own defensive anger. “Why did you act that way?”

  Amanda shrugged. Her green eyes dropped. “I don’t know. I felt pretty—distanced, emotionally. From everything. Like it was a movie, or worse, a joke. I was awful.”

  “Yeah,” Jaci agreed.

  Amanda lifted her face, her eyes shining. “I know. That’s just me. I try to go with the flow.”

  Jaci shook her head. “You’re reckless and irresponsible and selfish. You have no compassion. You live in the moment with no regard for others.”

  Amanda said nothing and Jaci looked at her open book. The words blurred before her on the page.

  “You don’t like me, huh, Jaci?”

  “I didn’t. Not really. I thought you were pretty fake.”

  “Maybe I was.”

  “And now?”

  “Maybe not fake.” She gave a crooked smile. “Maybe still selfish and irresponsible.” Amanda took a deep breath. “I don’t think I started to feel—really feel—what was going on until we were safe in the FBI’s custody.”

  “Safe,” Jaci said.

  “Yeah. Ironic. But I didn’t
know who to talk to.”

  Jaci closed her book, giving up on it. “You’re so difficult to get close to, Amanda. You push people away, boss them around.”

  “Well, you’re not perfect either, okay?” Amanda sniffed. “So. Did he hurt you, Jaci?”

  She shook her head. “No, Amanda.” The Creep had licked his lips and narrowed his eyes as she undressed. But one slight move in her direction had earned him a warning look from The Hand. Neither had approached her.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Jaci put her head in her hands. “It’s so complicated.”

  Amanda waited and Jaci lifted her head. “Remember I told you The Hand knew my father?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I have no idea what the connection is. But apparently The Hand thinks my dad has a lot of money, or a lot of connections. Or both. He made me write a ransom note.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Jaci swallowed. “Four million dollars for each of us.”

  “What?” Amanda gasped out. “But how will he come up with that money?”

  “I don’t know. The Hand believes he will.” Her lip twisted. “I didn’t know my father that well at all. Maybe he is a billionaire. Some rich crook with five mistresses and thirty kids.”

  Amanda chuckled. “I hope not. Or paying out four million for just one of those thirty might not seem worth it. Is that all?”

  “Yes.” Jaci exhaled. She just couldn’t bring herself to share with Amanda everything that had happened.

  “I hope your dad comes through. How long does he have?”

  “Three days.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we’re sold into slavery.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah.”

  November 10, Cincinnati, Ohio

  Carl stood in the forensics department of the police station, studying the typed up page of results for the third time.

  He had hardly been able to eat lunch. Butterflies flew amok in his stomach, making it impossible to think about anything except the report. And now he held it in his hands. But instead of providing answers, it only left more to be desired.

  A lab tech came in and took off his plastic gloves. “Questions?”

  Carl stared at the lab tray in front of him. “Not sure.”

  The tech shook his head. “They must’ve cleared out right before the police got there. Police said the place was a mess.”

  Carl wished he had gone inside. Maybe he would be able to figure out what was missing. “Fingerprint matches for Jaci and Amanda.”

  “There were several other sets of fingerprints.” The tech looked smug. “I’m pretty sure we got The Hand’s prints on file now. If only we could figure out which set is his.”

  “But not Sara’s.”

  “No, not her prints.” He gestured to plastic bags on the tray with bits and pieces of hair and other material. “These could be hers.”

  Carl looked at the strands of hair. “When will the FBI have the samples analyzed?”

  “Probably by tomorrow. They’re pretty quick.”

  If Sara had been there, her prints would’ve been on the wall and floor just like the other girls. Which begged the question: Where was Sara? Had The Hand taken her somewhere else?

  The Hand must have another hiding place. It infuriated Carl not to know.

  The girls had told him in their interview that The Hand planned to sell them. Carl was sure that plan was still in place. If he didn’t find them before that happened, chances were he never would. “Thanks.” He put the typed report pages on an empty gurney. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to see if the FBI report is in.”

  “No problem.” The kid picked up the papers and tapped them on the flat metal surface.

  Carl settled into his borrowed government car, looking for a pizza chain as he drove to the hotel.

  His phone rang and he pulled it out. It took him a moment to recognize the area code as local to Cincinnati.

  “Hello?” Just in case it was more foe than friend, he refrained from using his name.

  “Detective Hamilton?” A young male voice drifted through the line.

  Carl frowned, trying to place it. “This is.”

  “It’s Neal.”

  “Neal!” As expected, the boys had run. While the news was concerning, it wasn’t Carl’s case, and he had other things to focus on. “Where are you?”

  “In Cincinnati. Detective, we’ve been trailing the case. We have some news; we need your help—”

  “Hang on,” Carl interrupted. “You’re in Cincinnati?”

  “Yes.” The boy sounded more hesitant. “Please don’t call the police on us. We need your help.”

  “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

  “You’re—” The boy paused. “Are you here?”

  Carl allowed a soft chuckle. “Yes. Where are you?”

  Carl pulled his black sedan into the McDonald’s parking lot, out of the way of the security camera attached to the light post in the corner. His phone rang again. Neal. “Hello?”

  “Is that you, Detective?”

  “I just pulled in, yes.”

  A green Ford parked in the back flashed its lights at him. “We’re here.”

  Carl pulled up to the car and got out.

  Neal rolled down the window and gave him a grin. “Hi.”

  Carl shook his head. “I told you to stay put.”

  Neal’s eyes hardened. “You forgot to mention that Sara had disappeared.”

  “And Jaci,” Ricky added from the passenger seat.

  Carl couldn’t blame them. Since the death of their parents and grandmother, the boys were used to making decisions for themselves. “I’ll take you back to my hotel and we can talk. Follow me.”

  Ricky swiveled around to the backseat. “That good with you?”

  Carl raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the car. “Who’s with you?”

  Neal didn’t answer. Carl opened the back door. “Seth!” He took in the girl with reddish brown hair and blue-green eyes. He didn’t know her, but she had to be Agent Reynolds’ daughter. He let go of the door frame for a moment, shocked, and then recovered. “You’re not in Vegas.”

  Seth shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Carl nodded as understanding dawned on him. “You two didn’t get married.”

  “Married?” Ricky exclaimed.

  The girl’s cheeks turned bright pink.

  Again Seth shook his head. “No.”

  “Explain at the hotel.” Carl’s gaze swept over Neal. “Follow me. I’ll go slow.”

  The Millennium Hotel was in a ritzy part of town. They parked in the underground garage, and then stood in awkward silence in the elevator until it reached the seventeenth floor. Seth stared at each number as it lit up.

  “Here we are.” Carl exhaled and opened the hotel room. He could think of so many reprimands for these kids. In all honesty, he ought to call the police and send them packing. But his hunger to learn whatever they knew won out.

  The girl tossed a handbag on the bed and went into the bathroom. Carl looked at Seth.

  “What’s her first name?”

  “Megan.”

  “And you guys pretended to get married?” Ricky quirked an eyebrow and grinned at Seth.

  “We had to get her dad off our backs,” Seth murmured. His olive skin didn’t blush easily, but Carl thought he detected a reddish hue.

  “Uh-huh,” Ricky said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I’m going to have to call her father,” Carl said.

  That stopped the ribbing.

  “Oh, but . . .” Seth’s gaze probed the room. “B
ut we’re getting somewhere on this case.”

  “I’m not calling your mother,” Carl said. “You’re an adult, Seth. You can do what you choose.” He turned to Neal and Ricky. “I’ll have to call the group home, too, you know.”

  Neal leaned back against the sink. “We know. Can you just wait—a few days?”

  “Tell me what you’ve got.” He wasn’t making any promises. Megan came out of the bathroom, her eyes and nose red. She sat on the bed, head down. Carl kept his eyes trained on Neal.

  “We found a little girl who told us she saw Jaci and Amanda.”

  Carl leaned forward.

  “She lives in the trailer park by the overpass. She saw them get moved from one car to the other.”

  “But no Sara?”

  Neal shook his head. “Sara wasn’t with them.”

  This fit with the forensics results, as well. No sign of Sara in the warehouse. “What did the cars look like?”

  “She wasn’t good with descriptions. A little car and a big car. But it was definitely Jaci and Amanda. She could describe them.”

  Carl nodded. “All right. That all?”

  Neal glanced at Ricky. “No. There’s a warehouse in town we want to look at. Close to McKelvey Street. That’s where we need your help. We need to find it.”

  Carl’s brow furrowed. “Where did you get information about a warehouse?”

  “We bought a police scanner,” Seth said. “It mentioned a warehouse close to McKelvey Street.”

  “But a warehouse could mean anything. Usually it means a drug bust. What makes you think this has anything to do with the girls?”

  Neal gestured toward the bed. “Megan heard the report. What did they say, Megan?”

  Megan lifted her aqua eyes and fingered the bed spread. “Um. I just—uh . . .” she stammered off.

  “Did you hear anything specific?” Neal asked.

  She shook her head.

  Ricky’s shoulders sagged. “Was it a guess?”