Altercation Read online

  She nodded, tears pricking her eyes.

  Ricky sighed.

  “Megan knows what to look for.” Seth frowned at Ricky. “She’s been watching her dad do this her whole life. It’s like instinct.”

  “Well.” Neal shrugged. “That’s all we have, I guess.”

  Carl remained where he was, contemplating the four youth. “How did you kids meet up?”

  “We saw Megan at McDonald’s and followed them around town.”

  “And the phone you called me from? You didn’t steal it, did you?” If they had broken the law, the gig was up.

  Neal shook his head. “No. We bought it.”

  “All right. I know what warehouse you’re looking for. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

  “Warehouse?” Ricky sputtered. “You mean we found the right one?”

  “Yes. I was there last night. So were the girls.”

  “All of them?” Neal gripped the edge of the sink.

  Carl shook his head. “We’ve not had any sign of Sara. We found fingerprints from Jaci and Amanda. We don’t know where Sara is.”

  “Can we go now?” Ricky asked. “The longer we wait, the colder the trail gets.”

  “We’ll find them. Sometimes people are missing for months before they’re found. The Hand won’t kill them. They’re worth something to him.” He left out the part about what would happen if The Hand succeeded in selling them.

  “He killed Callie,” Seth said.

  Carl had no response for that. “We won’t go tonight. It’s dark already and the temperature’s dropping. We’ll head out tomorrow morning.”

  “Do you have the address?” Neal pulled out his phone.

  “Here.” Carl wrote the address on a napkin and handed it to Neal. “Now relax. I’ll get a couple more beds brought up. TV’s all yours. I’ve got some work to do.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Jaci recognized the heavy footfall of the Grandón coming down the stairs and froze. She hadn’t seen him since the night when The Hand made her write the awful letter to her father. Almost forty-eight hours ago.

  Her skin prickled. Time was running out.

  Amanda poked her head out from under the desk where she was carving a message in the drywall. “That’s the big guy.”

  Jaci nodded. “Yeah.”

  The door knob rattled, and the Grandón yanked it open. His fair features were twisted in anger, his lips quaking. “Bathroom,” he snarled. His hand snaked in and grabbed Jaci’s arm.

  Jaci ignored the fear that rolled around in her belly. He dragged her over to the bathroom and shoved her inside. He entered with her, closing the door behind them.

  “Don’t say a word,” he hissed. He grabbed her by the hair and pressed her back against the bathtub.

  Jaci didn’t think. She placed her hands on top of his, then grabbed his wrist and swiveled. She bent his wrist backward until he swore and jerked away from her.

  The next step was to stomp on his foot, hit him in the groin, and run. But she could hardly do that, locked in the bathroom.

  He held his wrist and growled at her. “Bitch!” He dug his fingers into her shoulder and shoved, then slapped her so hard she fell to the ground. His boot connected with her ribs, sending a lance of fire through her body. Jaci cried out, curling her knees up to her chest. He pushed his rough hand over her mouth. “Not a sound from you, little whore, or I’ll break your neck. You earned what’s coming.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. What had she done? Did he think she’d taken the necklace?

  His thundering eyes met hers. “What, don’t you recognize me?” He leaned in closer. “We met once before. In the woods.”

  Jaci’s breath caught. That’s why he looked so familiar! The two camouflaged men had tracked them down and attacked them in the woods. Jaci flinched at the memory of the panic that had overwhelmed her at the sight of the men.

  “That’s right.” A triumphant smile slashed across his face. “You might remember my little brother, Danny?” He pressed his lips to her ear. “Did you see his face after you were done with it? Did you see what was left of his body after you killed him?”

  “What?” Jaci gasped, rearing her head back. “That’s not what happened!” She specifically remembered Neal and Ricky confessing to killing one of the men. She forced herself to replay the events. After the first man found Sara, Sara screamed. From there, everything got blurry. Jaci picked up a branch and swung it at him. And then Neal was there, sending her back with Amanda while he and Ricky took off in pursuit of the second man.

  The Grandón grabbed her jaw and pushed her head back. “I was there, you bitch! I saw!” He yanked her down, banging her head on the tile floor. Heaving himself on top of her, he squeezed her neck with one hand while the other groped with his pants.

  Everything happened in slow motion. Jaci closed her eyes as something hard pushed against her thigh, and then they shot open again. The razor!

  It wasn’t until she raked the razor over his cheek that he noticed her. He howled in pain as blood from two thin cuts sprang out. He grabbed her by the hair and bit her neck.

  Gripping the razor like a lifeline, she attacked his throat.

  He pulled her up, slamming her into the bathtub and punching her face. She shook her head, stunned from the blow. Then he lifted her by her shoulders and threw her into the wall.

  The bathroom door banged open.

  The Grandón whirled around. Jaci shrank into the corner, shaking.

  The Hand stood in the doorway. His cold blue eyes took in the scene in a split second. “Move,” he said to Jaci.

  She threw herself between the toilet and the bathtub.

  The Grandón lifted his hands. “It’s not what you—”

  He never got a chance to finish his defense. The Hand shot the man in the chest. The dead man’s hot blood splattered around the bathroom and over Jaci. She gasped, the air rattling in her lungs.

  The Hand put the weapon on the floor. He pulled a towel from under the sink and stepped toward her. She wedged herself against the wall, prepared to kick and fight.

  “I won’t hurt you.” He didn’t meet her eyes, but used the towel to wipe the blood from her face. Finding her fingers tightly clutching the razor, he unhooked them and put the razor on the rim of the bathtub. Leading her back to the office, he opened the door.

  Amanda’s face was white. She jumped up, wrapping her arms around Jaci and glaring at The Hand. “What did you do to her?”

  “Keep that towel on her,” he said. “It’ll help with the swelling.” He closed the door on them.

  “Jaci?” Amanda sat her down and pressed the towel to Jaci’s face. “What happened? I heard a gunshot. I was so—so scared.” She shook her head, her lips tightening.

  Jaci didn’t answer. Scenes clicked through her head like a slide show, each image in surreal detail. She could barely think about what the man had tried to do to her. “Amanda,” she said, very slowly, “remember in the forest when those two men attacked us?”

  Amanda pulled the towel away from Jaci’s face. “I wasn’t there. Neal and I were too far behind you.”

  “But Ricky went and got you.” Jaci pushed Amanda’s hands back, suddenly impatient. “Neal and Ricky ran after one of the men, and you took me and Sara further into the forest to wait for them.”

  “Yes,” Amanda said, her tone wary.

  “Was the Grandón—” Jaci swallowed. “Was he that man?”

  Amanda paused, her eyes unfocusing for a moment as she thought. “I’m not sure, Jaci. He could be. I didn’t really see him. He was running away by the time I got there.”

  “But Neal and Ricky didn’t catch him.”

  “No.”

  The pieces were sliding into place now. “So who did they ki
ll?”

  “The other man,” Amanda said, too quickly. “The one we left on the forest floor.”

  Jaci met her eyes. “They came back and killed him?”

  Amanda opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

  “They didn’t,” Jaci said softly, certainty gripping her. “They didn’t need to. I had already killed him.”

  “It was self-defense, Jaci.” Amanda locked eyes with Jaci’s. “You were protecting yourself. You were protecting Sara.”

  Jaci barely heard her. How could she have killed a man and not even known it? Where had her mind gone in that moment? “Why didn’t you guys tell me?” She remembered the way everyone except her had known that the man was dead. As if they had talked about it and decided to conceal the truth from her.

  “We were afraid of how you’d react, Jaci. And then after you shot the policeman—we couldn’t tell you.”

  Jaci pressed a hand to her forehead. This was too much. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

  “Look at me, Jaci.” Amanda’s voice was steely. “It doesn’t matter what we want. Sometimes we have to do it. You didn’t want to, but you’d do it again. To protect me, or the boys, or anyone else you love. You keep that fire in you.”

  “How?” Heat rushed to Jaci’s face, and she swallowed back tears. “How, when there are men stronger than us leading us around like pet monkeys?” She looked down at her hand, still clenched as if she had the razor.

  Amanda dropped her voice. “I want to show you something.” She pulled from her pocket a crumpled napkin. “This came on the breakfast tray. I didn’t notice till a little while ago.”

  Notice what? Jaci uncrumpled the napkin. Amanda took Jaci’s finger and traced over it.

  Jaci felt it. Lines etched in the paper. She held it up to the light, trying to read the grooves. It looked like someone had pressed down hard with a pen that was out of ink.

  HELP IS COMING.

  “Who brought this?” Jaci whispered, ripping up the napkin into tiny pieces.

  “It came on the tray.”

  Someone was trying to help them. She leaned back against the wall, wondering which of The Hand’s men was secretly on their side.

  “What happened back there, Jaci? In the bathroom?”

  Jaci swallowed hard. “He attacked me. He told me I killed his brother and he would make me pay. I cut him with the razor, and The Hand came in and shot him.”

  Amanda gasped. “Are you okay?”

  It seemed like a stupid question. Jaci had no answer, so she just shrugged.

  The door swung open. The Hand tossed two piles of clothes at them. “Showers.” He beckoned to Jaci.

  She stood, clutching the clothes to her chest. The Hand led her to the bathroom and locked her inside.

  Someone had cleaned it up, though the red spots on the wall and the maroon in the grout were probably permanent fixtures. She let out a sigh and ran a shaky hand through her hair. Remembering how she and Seth kept the bathroom door closed at home, she pulled out the drawer attached to the sink.

  Jaci gave the shower a quick perusal and turned on the hot water. The razor was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  We found it.”

  The four teenagers sat on the steps of a local bookstore. Neal was on the phone with Detective Hamilton. Megan appreciated the scarves and gloves Seth had bought them, but the cold wind still sliced through her jacket. A light snow fell, not enough to stick but enough to leave everything damp. She shivered and rubbed her hands together.

  “We’re on . . .” Neal leaned forward and squinted at a street sign. “Winton Road. Uh-huh. I see a cop car three stores down from us. No. Okay. Cokesbury Bookstore. We’ll be inside.” He snapped the phone shut and stood. “Come on.”

  The door jangled as they entered the bookstore. Megan glanced around. It was a religious bookstore, with several books on faith and scriptural interpretations available. Neal picked one up and flipped it over.

  “Was he mad?” Megan murmured, sliding up next to him. They were supposed to wait in the hotel lobby for Detective Hamilton, but when he got detained by a phone call, Neal convinced them to go ahead.

  Neal shrugged, eyes on the back of the book. “No. Maybe a little annoyed.”

  “Morning.” A portly man with an apron stepped out of a back room. “Need anything?”

  Neal shook his head, his cheeks raw and pink with the cold. “No, just looking. Thanks.”

  “Holler if I can help.” He disappeared again.

  Seth stepped closer to Neal. “Well?”

  “Hamilton’s on his way.”

  Finding the abandoned warehouse hadn’t been hard. The gray building looked like it’d been through a bombing. Neal picked up another book, this one for Bible study groups.

  “I’ve got some of those at home,” Megan said. “If you’re interested.”

  A black sedan pulled to a stop in front of the bookstore.

  “Hamilton.” Neal led the group outside.

  “You shouldn’t have left like that.” Detective Hamilton glared at the four from the driver’s window. “I’ll take you into the warehouse. Megan.”

  She stopped when he said her name.

  “I’ve been on the phone with your father.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

  “He’s coming to get you.”

  The world spun for a minute and the heat rushed up to her face. “Okay.” The word came out in a tiny squeak. How utterly humiliating. She couldn’t meet the eyes of any of the boys.

  “But he’s not here yet.” Hamilton turned the car off, leaving it parked in front of the bookstore. He glanced up at the gray sky. “It’s going to rain. We should take cover. Shall we?” He looked across the street at the warehouse.

  “Yes.” Neal started for the crosswalk.

  “Hang on; let me chat with the patrol.” Hamilton jogged toward the police car.

  Megan drew back. Her eyes flicked to Cindy’s green car next to Hamilton’s. “I’ll wait here.”

  Seth turned to face her, giving a frown. “Seriously? After all the effort we’ve gone through, you don’t want to go into the warehouse?”

  She shrugged, feeling deflated. “The girls aren’t there. It’s over for me.” Not waiting for a response, Megan opened the car door and sat in the back. She hadn’t really wanted to go into the creepy warehouse, anyway.

  She’d only been sitting about a minute when the door opposite her opened.

  “Here.” Seth tossed the car keys at her. “In case you get cold.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Do you want me to stay with you?”

  She shook her head, forcing a smile. “No. I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

  He stepped away, shutting the door. She sighed. She must look like an idiot to him. Like some child whose daddy had to come rescue her. Oh, well. Soon she would be home in Montana. Probably quarantined to her room, never to hear about this case again. She knew her dad would never let her see Seth again.

  The snow turned into rain, a slow, dreary drizzle. Megan watched her breath fog up the window. Leaning over the armrest, she put the key in the ignition. She cranked the dial to get some heat.

  Static crackled below her elbow, and she swiveled around. Ah. The police scanner. Falling back into her seat, she adjusted the channel on the scanner. She had to consult the notepad where Ricky had written down the ten codes a few times, but she got the gist of the conversations without them. Big car wreck on Scott Street. Fire truck en route.

  She turned to the next channel.

  “Need a patrol sent to thirty-one forty-five Donwiddle Drive in Loveland. Ten-eight.”

  Ten-eight, ten-eight . . . Megan’s eyes traced down the paper until she found the pr
oper code. Burglary in progress.

  “Dispatch, this is unit twenty-two. We’re in the area. Victims called nine-one-one? Do we need medical assistance?”

  “Negative, twenty-two. Suspect is unarmed, teenage girl. Appears to be homeless. Might be our prowler. Victims holding her in custody, awaiting patrol.”

  Megan paused, trying to remember any previous transmissions about a prowler. They’d heard about the bank robbery, the warehouse, the burglary . . .

  Which had actually been the second burglary that week, and it was also in Loveland.

  Megan felt an energetic urgency flood her veins. She opened the glove compartment and began searching for a road atlas. She found one. Loveland was a suburb of Cincinnati, and it was not even three miles from the McDonald’s.

  Megan bolted upright and threw open the car door. She ran across the street and slipped on the wet pavement. She caught herself, wincing as several shards of broken glass bore their way into her palm.

  Which way had they gone in? The door was barred with a chain. She pulled on it and the chain fell off. The smell of feces, urine, and stale air reached her nostrils before the door finished shutting behind her. It closed with a bang, leaving her in the dark. “Hello? Seth? Detective?”

  The empty warehouse stretched out before her. Her eyes adjusted, revealing the debris-littered floor. Patches of light drifted in through open doorways.

  A tall shadow stepped out of a room, flashlight in hand. “Megan?”

  “Seth!” she said. Neal and Ricky joined him. “I heard Sara on the police scanner!”

  “What?” Neal stepped forward.

  Megan stopped, suddenly questioning her spontaneous conjectures. “Well, I think it was Sara.”

  Detective Hamilton stepped into the hall. “Explain what you heard. She was talking on the scanner?”

  “No.” Megan shook her head. “It might not have been her. But I think it was.”

  “Megan.” Neal cut her off. “Just tell us what you heard.”