Chloe looked at Blake. “I’m just curious as to how your judge connects to this whole thing and why someone wants him dead so bad.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” He nodded to Jo. “Our next shift is tomorrow. I think it’s time to have a chat with the man.”
The sun had gone down three hours ago, taking the slightly warmer temperatures with it. Rachel huddled against the wall of the barn, knees drawn to her chin, and shivered in her thin blouse. She thought she’d overheard someone say something about snow a couple of days ago, but dismissed it as ridiculous. It didn’t snow in Columbia. At least not more than a few flakes.
However, she had to admit, she was cold. Very cold. And hungry—and an idiot. Had she really thought she could save Lindsey?
She pulled one of the protein bars from her jeans pocket and ate it slowly. With no way to check her blood sugar, she was just going to have to pray it didn’t drop too low. Or go too high. High was better than low, but neither were good. With little food, she was in more danger of it going low. She thought about removing the pod, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Once again, she’d made a stupid, possibly life-threatening, choice. She should have stayed at the hospital. Should have told someone her story. But it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that these people had been doing this for a very long time. And no one had discovered it or caught them. So maybe, somehow, Rachel could help by gathering as much information as possible and making sure she lived to give it to the right people.
She shivered again. Yeah. She was an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Just like her mother had yelled at her when she’d failed algebra and had to take summer school classes.
Stupid, worthless girl, do you see now why your father doesn’t want you? She’d tossed the report card onto the table and stalked off, her disgust with Rachel plain.
But at least Rachel hadn’t gotten caught yet. And she had a roof over her head. Such that it was. Maybe she wasn’t quite as stupid as her mother thought she was.
Then again, she was still stuck, with no way to get help for herself or any of the others. She fingered the insulin pen in her pocket. But she would be okay on insulin for at least seven days.
Seven days. Where would she be in seven days? Would she even be alive?
Panic welled and she stuffed it down.
A sound to her left jerked her attention around and her pulse skyrocketed. Had someone from the house seen her? Or just come to get something from the barn. She clasped her arms around her knees and stayed still, willing herself to be invisible even while knowing the childish wish wouldn’t happen.
Another sound as soft as a brush of wings stirring the air. But she heard it.
Meow.
Heart thudding, relief snagging the breath from her lungs, Rachel stretched her legs and pressed a hand to her stomach. “Come here, kitty, come here.” The cat sauntered over and climbed on Rachel’s leg. After kneading her thigh, the animal curled in her lap. She was probably cold too. Rachel relished the slight warmth the cat brought with her. It wasn’t much, but she’d take it.
Tilting her head, Rachel studied the ceiling while she thought. Her fingers stroked the silky gray-and-white fur as prayers tumbled through her mind.
A plan. She definitely needed a plan. Her gaze roamed the building. The barn was filled with old, broken-down farm and horse equipment. No telephone, of course.
But if she’d calculated right, Carson had driven for about thirty minutes—maybe forty—before pulling to a stop in the drive of the house. The same place she’d been when she’d awakened after being drugged. She recognized the barn from when they’d walked them up out of the basement and loaded them into the trailer early that morning.
And then the sun had fallen and now Rachel had to figure out her next move. Start walking and hope she went in the right direction? Or ran into someone willing to let her use a cell phone? What if no one believed her? What if no one would help her?
Oh God, what do I do? Help me!
The tears came and this time she let them out, sobbing into the fur of the sweet cat.
When she finally fell silent, her crying under control, Rachel forced her mind to work. She’d had her cry. It was time to figure out what to do next that wouldn’t lead to her capture and wouldn’t get Lindsey or her father killed.
She buried her protein bar wrapper in the dirt floor while her mind went back to that first awful day after the drugs had worn off, the pounding in her head had eased, and she’d been given food and water. She, Lindsey, and four other girls had appeared to be the newbies in the group.
Carson had walked the length of the cages holding up pictures, his nauseating mask something out of a horror movie. Briefly, she’d wondered why he bothered, then realized he wasn’t the only one luring girls into the ring. Some of them had no idea what he looked like. “If you decide not to cooperate,” he said, “if you try to escape, if you cause us any trouble, it’s not only you that will suffer—” his dramatic pause had only heightened her terror—“but your families as well.” He held out one of the photos to the girl in the cage next to Rachel. “You have a little sister, Melly, right? She’s ten, right? Well, guess what? She’s next.”
“No,” the girl whispered before bursting into tears.
“Then don’t do anything stupid.” To Lindsey. “You seem to be real close to your mother. She’s easy to get to.”
Lindsey’s sobs echoed through the cavernous area.
He turned to Rachel. “You have a father.” He passed her the picture and Rachel simply stared at it, mixed emotions coursing through her. She loved her father. And she hated him. Keeping her features expressionless, she passed the picture back, turned her back on the boy—man—she hadn’t trusted, but hadn’t feared, stretched out on the floor, and closed her eyes.
The room was silent except for Lindsey’s crying and the whimpers coming from the other girls. Rachel had no idea why her own emotions had been frozen that day. She’d been incapable of responding. With tears, anger—even fear. It seemed to confuse Carson and he stared at her, his dark eyes glittering through the holes in the mask. Then he’d marched on to the next girl. And the next.
And while that numbness had quickly worn off, she was determined to get that back. Because right now, she couldn’t afford to feel.
She sat up.
As soon as the sun started to rise, she was going to act.
Chloe rubbed her eyes and blinked. The clock on the wall pushed midnight and her adrenaline was crashing in spite of the gallons of coffee she’d consumed.
They’d made their way back to the hospital where, as an official task force—thanks to Linc’s influential pushing and the quick action of the powers that be—they’d finished questioning the victims.
Unfortunately, they still didn’t know much more than what they’d started with.
A house with an underground area, darkness, cages, threats, men with masks and guns. And terror. That had pretty much summed up their stories.
Krista, one of the victims, had tilted her head, a thoughtful expression momentarily replacing the fear. “But they fed us well and they didn’t touch us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard of human trafficking, of course, and I figured the next step would be the . . . rape. You know?” She shuddered and shook her head. “But they didn’t. The only time they put their hands on us was when they transported us—or when the guy they said was a doctor examined us.” She grimaced. “They were rough, but it was almost like they were careful not to leave bruises too.”