Altercation Page 8

  The corners of Jaci’s mouth turned up. “Maryland?”

  “Yes.” Carl allowed a wry note of humor to enter his tone. “Somebody called and said you girls were going to Maryland. We followed the lead until it turned out to be fake.” His eyes flicked to the last girl, the taller redhead with dark green eyes. Even sitting with her arms crossed, Carl knew that she looked more like a woman than a girl. “And Amanda.”

  “Hi.” She leaned forward and shook his hand. “Thanks for helping find us.”

  Carl turned to the twin boys across the table. “And Ricky and Neal. How you stumbled into this mess is beyond me. But here you are.” He opened his briefcase and moved to the front of the room.

  “One of my biggest cases right now is locating The Hand. As soon as I find him, we can make an arrest—with the cooperation of the Canadian police—and you girls will be safe again. Safe enough to go home.” He held up a black and white drawing. “I have here a composite sketch of The Hand. It was drawn by an artist in Canada using the second-hand witness of a girl named Rachel Brosseau. Name sound familiar?”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Sara lurched forward, her hazel eyes widening. “Rachel? From Canada? Natalie’s friend?”

  Carl nodded. “That’s right. Only Rachel never saw The Hand. She drew it based on what Sara told her. I’m not sure how accurate this sketch is.”

  Amanda lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, it’s a little off. You should’ve asked one of us.”

  He chuckled and put the paper down. “We’ll work on that. But this is the best we’ve ever had. It’s a huge triumph for us.”

  “What about Natalie?” Jaci asked. “Is she okay?”

  Carl thought back to the hectic days when he and the RCMP investigator, Ancelin, had tracked down Natalie. She and her friends had been falsely accused and arrested by the Montreal police, just to keep them quiet. This revealed a huge coup in the police force. But no harm had come to the girls, and everyone was fine at home now. “Yes, she and Rachel are okay. As soon as your rescue is made public, I’ll make sure they know you’re safe too.”

  Jaci settled back in her chair. But Carl noticed how she kept her eyes on him. She has questions for me. And he could guess about what. But she’d have to wait.

  “Now.” He pulled out an atlas and spread it over the table. “Best as I can tell, this is the route The Hand took when he kidnapped you.” Carl pointed out Idaho Falls and ran his finger along US-191. “They took the highway rather than the interstate, probably to avoid traffic. From here I assume they crossed into Canada at the border,” he traced his finger up into Canada, “and headed for Montreal. You three came out in Victoriaville.” He pointed out the small spot in the east, marked with a blue sharpie. “Which means, The Hand’s lair must be close to Victoriaville. How long did you walk before meeting Natalie?”

  “All night,” Sara said. “We walked all night.”

  “Okay. So six, eight hours.”

  “It was a mountain,” Jaci said. “We had to walk down it. Some parts were steep and rocky. We fell a lot.”

  He nodded, still trying to calculate the distance in his head. One mile every twenty minutes, maybe less because of the terrain. Three miles an hour. They’d walked between nine and twelve miles. Definitely giving him a radius to search in. “I leave for Canada tomorrow. Can you describe the house to me?”

  Carl spent the next half hour gleaning as much information from the girls as he could. Satisfied, he closed his folder, tucking the notes inside. “Thank you. I know you want him found as much as I do.” He paused, and then added, “It’s wonderful to see you all alive and well.”

  “All right.” The agent stood up, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll get the detective to his hotel.”

  “Wait.” Carl dug around until he found his wallet, then he pulled out his business cards. “Each of you take one of these. If you think of anything—or need anything—don’t hesitate to call.” He passed the cards around and the kids took them as they moved for the door.

  Except Jaci. She lingered by the table, fingering the upholstery of one of the chairs, her eyes studying the grains in the wood.

  Carl pretended not to notice her. He took his time rearranging his briefcase. Finally Sara, the last of the group, left, throwing a curious look at Jaci over her shoulder.

  “Did you need something, Jaci?” the agent asked.

  “Yes, Agent Banks. If I could, I’d like to speak with Detective Hamilton for a moment. Alone.”

  “Fine with me.” Carl looked at Agent Banks, glad to finally have a name to associate with the man.

  Banks gave a slight frown. “Why alone?”

  She shrugged, toying with her long black hair. “’Cause if I have an audience, I’ll get nervous.”

  Banks glanced up at the corner of the room, and Carl knew he must have a recording device planted there. He nodded. “Sure. Detective, I’ll be in the sitting room when you’re ready.”

  Carl sat back down and gave Jaci what he hoped was a comforting smile.

  She waited until the door closed after Banks. “You were the one on our case. You spoke to our families?”

  “Yes. I met each of your families. I spoke with them in great detail about you.”

  “Did you talk to my father?” Her cheeks reddened.

  Again he nodded, careful not to throw out any information. Let her ask the questions.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Carl remembered the confrontation at the Rivera house quite clearly, but he didn’t want to reveal that to her. “The night he left on his business trip. I asked him where he was going.”

  “Where was he going?”

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  “What’s going on? Where is he? Why didn’t he come back?”

  Carl leaned forward, squeezing his hands together. “What do you know, Jaci?”

  She looked down, the tears escaping over the brims of her eyes. “I know that The Hand knew him. They called him the Carnicero.”

  “The Carnicero?” Carl echoed. He tried not to appear too eager at this new information. “How do you know this?”

  She licked her lips and her eyes flicked around the room.

  “Jaci.” He spoke gently, wanting to keep her talking. “I’m trying to find your father. Anything you tell me will be able to help me.”

  She took a careful breath. “It’s just I’m not sure which side he’s on.”

  Her small voice almost didn’t reach his ears. He nodded. “We’re not sure either. But we’ll never know unless we find him.”

  She swallowed. “I overheard The Hand talking about us. What he was going to do with us. Then Claber said something about not being too hasty—with me. Because I was the Carnicero’s daughter. And he said my father’s name.”

  Carl analyzed this new information. Didn’t sound like the Carnicero was a friend, then, or they’d have turned Jaci over to him. They wanted to hold her for collateral, maybe. “Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “No. I was hoping you could tell me more. What did you find on him?”

  “Hasn’t your mother said anything in her letters?”

  “One letter. I’ve only gotten one. But no. She said he’d vanished, and the police had searched the house. What did the police find?”

  “We found a few things that might give us leads.” Carl remained evasive. “What we have found out is that he never got a college degree and the company he worked for doesn’t exist. It doesn’t appear that Gregorio Rivera is his real name. ”

  The skin around her eyes tightened. “His name’s not even Gregorio Rivera?”

  “No.”

  She directed her gaze downward. Carl sympathized. He couldn’t even imagine what she was thinking. She looked back up. “Who was
he working for, then?”

  “We don’t know yet. But I have some leads, Jaci. This is important. My department has the funding, and I’ll travel the globe looking for him.”

  She fingered the thin business card. “Will you call me if you get any news?”

  Carl hesitated. “I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to contact you. The FBI agreed to let me meet with you girls today, but I don’t know that they’ll always be so willing. If you remember something—even something from a long time ago—you have the FBI call that cell phone. Just watch what you say.”

  “Thank you, Detective. Thank you for looking for us.”

  He tucked his chin down so she wouldn’t see his emotion. “Just doing my job.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Happy birthday, dear Megan! Happy birthday to you!”

  Megan smiled around the table at her family. She felt a twinge of disappointment that she couldn’t have a real party with friends, but they were driving to Idaho the next day and needed to get to bed early. Besides, her mom promised her a big birthday bash to celebrate her eighteenth birthday when they got back.

  Her father’s phone rang, and he slipped out of the room while Megan unwrapped presents. She inclined her head, one ear tuned to his conversation. Lately most of his phone calls revolved around the newly rescued girls, and everything regarding the kidnapping interested her.

  She opened a present, revealing a book entitled Driving for Dummies. “Spence, I think you gave me the book you bought for yourself.”

  “Just a hint, sis,” Spencer said, smirking.

  From the other room, Megan caught the words “background checks” and “motivation.”

  “Are you ever going to open my present?” Whitney asked, rocking back and forth. At eight years old, she wasn’t the model of patience.

  “Oh, of course.” Megan tore into the paper. “A puzzle book! Whitney, you are so thoughtful.”

  She beamed. “I picked it out myself.”

  “Moving them from Cincinnati?” Her father’s words, murmured into the telephone, barely carried into the next room. Megan held her breath, hoping to hear more.

  Her mother noticed. “Megan,” she said, a warning note in her voice. “Don’t listen in.”

  Megan smiled brightly. “Who wants cake and ice-cream?”

  Her father came back in as Megan served up the cake. “Are the girls all right?” she asked.

  “Not sure. The agent guarding them feels like they need tighter security.”

  “Why? Did they receive a threat? Did something happen?”

  “That’s all I can tell you,” he said, giving her a stern look that mirrored her mother’s.

  Megan helped clean up the dishes after her “party.” She watched her father pick up Whitney from the couch where she slept and take her to her room. Megan sighed.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Her mom picked a pepperoni off a slice of pizza and popped it into her mouth. “You’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

  Megan pasted a smile on her face, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “I’m great. Yeah.” Candice hadn’t even called. Megan tried to feel angry about it, but she hadn’t called Candice either. Now that she thought about it, they hadn’t spoken much in school lately. Did she still have a best friend?

  Her mom misinterpreted her silence. “I know it wasn’t much to celebrate your eighteenth birthday, and I’m sorry. It’s just with everything that’s going on tomorrow, needing to leave for Idaho, your father felt it best if we kept it brief.”

  Actually, Megan had issues with that too—after all, Idaho was only five hours away—but that wasn’t what was bugging her. She wiped chips and dip into the trashcan and blurted, “Candice and I aren’t talking.”

  Mrs. Reynolds turned from the sink and gave Megan a sympathetic look. “Oh, honey. What happened?”

  Just like that, Megan saw her opportunity to get information about the girls. She hadn’t planned it, and she felt a bit guilty for taking advantage of it, but that didn’t stop her from plunging ahead. “I’ve just been so preoccupied since we got back from New York. I haven’t been a good friend, I guess. Candice noticed.”

  The creases between her mother’s eyebrows smoothed into understanding. “You did get pretty involved with the girls.”

  Megan sighed again and shredded a napkin onto a plate. “I think about them all the time. I worry about them. I keep thinking, what if it had been me?”

  “Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to see their families tomorrow. It might make things worse.”

  Megan shook her head quickly. “No, no.” That definitely wasn’t the direction she wanted to go. “No, I think it will help me. It helps to know they have a safe place to go home to. But I also feel so . . . invested in them. I won’t be able to relax until they’re home.” All this was true, which helped Megan not feel so bad about using her feelings to get more information. “Do you know what’s going on? Are they almost safe again?”

  Her mom leaned against the sink and folded her arms across her chest. “Your dad doesn’t tell me much, Megan. They are safe now, in FBI custody. As soon as they are cleared to go home, I’m sure we’ll find out.”

  Megan nodded, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Her mom turned around and started the water again. “I’ll finish clearing the table. Happy birthday, honey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Megan put down the napkin shreds and went down the hall. She knew as much as her mom, then, maybe even more. The girls were in Cincinnati, for now. The FBI thought they might be in danger, and they might be moved. Megan wished she knew more. Maybe her dad would give something else away while talking to the parents.

  Provided, of course, that she didn’t get left behind. Megan pulled open a duffle bag and started packing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jaci wished for something to take her frustrations out on besides a punching bag.

  Agent Magrew had hung the bag the day before during the self-defense class, but it was clear after a few weak-hearted jabs that the girls weren’t fighters. Jaci laughed at the time, but now that she wanted to punch the living daylights out of something, all she could manage were a few harmless thrusts.

  Everything was falling apart. She couldn’t get Detective Hamilton’s words out of her mind. He had been so kind, but it sounded like he thought her father was involved in illegal activities. She admitted it seemed logical. Why else would he disappear, right when his family needed him the most?

  And now having to leave the safe house because of Sara’s letter . . . what if The Hand had managed to track them? Her heart beat erratically and Jaci aimed a punch at the bag.

  Two arms came over her head and gripped her forearms to her chest, fingers knotting in front of her. Jaci stiffened, her mind freezing up.

  “Relax, Jaci.” Ricky’s voice spoke in her ear, tickling the hairs on her neck. “Just remember the moves. Break my hold.”

  Adrenaline pumping through her, she forced her mind to clear. She kicked backward, connecting with Ricky’s shin. He yelped and bent slightly. Jaci slammed her elbow back into his ribs and his hands came apart. I did it! she thought, elated.

  “Now run,” he gasped out. “You’re supposed to run.”

  She turned around to see him doubled over, one hand on his shin and the other around his ribcage. Her excitement ebbed, and she felt the blood rush to her face. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

  He waved her off. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, Jace.” He straightened up. “Let’s try another one.” He grabbed her in a headlock, holding her by his side.

  Jaci laughed. “You’re not holding me tight enough, Ricky. Do it like you mean it.”

  His grip tightened and Jaci reacted. She spun her head into his chest, protecting her throat. One hand pulled his
outer arm up while the other hand reached up, gripped his face, and thrust his head away.

  “Great,” Ricky said, backing away. “I’m glad you skipped the middle step.”

  Striking the groin. Jaci nodded, flushed with victory. “You chose the hold.”

  “Yeah, I forgot about that part. Want to try another?”

  She shook her head. “No. But thanks, Ricky.” She felt better. Being forced to focus on something else calmed her. She wasn’t helpless anymore. “It came more naturally that second time. It felt right.”

  He touched the top of her hand, and her stomach knotted up. “That’s how it should be.”

  Jaci pulled away. “I’m done here. I better shower.” She fled the dojo before Ricky could confuse her more.

  The girls were preparing for bed when someone knocked on the door.

  Jaci didn’t look up from where she sat on the bed. She had a magazine open in her lap, but the pages blurred in front of her.

  “Come in,” Amanda called.

  Agent Banks poked his head in and beckoned to Sara.

  She followed him out of the room, the door closing with a solid thud behind her.

  “What do you suppose that’s about?” Amanda asked.

  Jaci lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. Could be anything. The pregnancy. Her family. Neal and Ricky.”

  Amanda peered at her. “Are you okay, Jaci? You’ve seemed sort of out of it since we met with the detective. What did he say to you when you were alone?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.” She evaded the rest of Amanda’s question.

  Amanda slipped on her night shirt. “You gonna turn out the light?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good night.” Amanda pulled the sheets back on her bed and climbed inside.

  Jaci read the same paragraph four times before giving up. She sighed, put the magazine down, and reached for the light switch between the two beds. Before she could hit it, though, the door rattled, and Sara rushed into the room. Her face was red, her eyes swollen with an unleashed torrent of tears.