Because they already had buyers. And buyers didn’t want their property damaged. Chloe had barely managed to hold back her own shudder.
“Except for Skye,” Krista said. “When she started crying and fighting, trying to run away, the guy who was loading us in the truck just . . . snapped. He grabbed her and shoved her down a flight of stairs. He went after her, and she later said he kicked her when she was lying on the floor.” Krista’s eyes filled. “He treated her like she was nobody.” Another shiver wracked her and she drew in a deep breath. “Anyway, that’s why her ribs were hurting so bad.”
Which supported Rachel’s story.
“And then someone started beating on him,” Krista said. Another eyewitness to the beating, corroborating Rachel’s account.
“What was his name? The one who hurt Skye.”
“They called him Manny.”
“And what happened to Manny?”
“I don’t know. This was while they were loading us all in the truck. I couldn’t see what was happening, I just heard it.” Her eyes met Chloe’s. “Is it wrong to hope he’s dead?” she whispered. Then sobs ripped through her.
Chloe had hugged her and held her until her mother had walked in and taken Chloe’s place. Chloe had slipped out when she saw Krista wrapped in her mother’s arms.
Her throat tightened at the memory.
Now in a borrowed conference room at the hospital where they’d agreed to meet after questioning the victims, they worked on the plan.
Linc had the lead FBI position. Tabitha St. John, the city’s chief of police and Linc and Chloe’s mother, had agreed to leave Chloe and Hank on the team. She’d also requested two DEA agents and two OCN agents, one of whom was Derek. Blake’s partner, JoAnn, had been approved, and would work on tracking Alessandro Russo in between shifts of guarding the judge. And, as a courtesy, Blake would also be kept in the loop on any updates concerning Rachel.
For now, they were gathering as much information as they could to get started. Then they’d split up and get this thing taken care of. Hopefully.
“These people are careful,” Blake said. “More careful than anyone I’ve ever run across before. They’ve gotten this down to a science. They have one, possibly two guys, who woo the girls into trusting them. Then once they’re at the house, they keep the girls in the dark. Literally. The abductors wear masks so should one—or a truckful—of the girls manage to escape, she can’t identify any of them.”
“Which none of these girls could,” JoAnn said, all caught up on the information they’d already gathered. “Except for the two known as Carson Langston and Manny with no last name.”
Linc nodded. “And let’s see if we can access their cloud accounts. I want to see what pictures they have on their phones and their text history.”
The girls were scared. Their families had been threatened. They were potential witnesses for anyone caught and brought to trial. And then there was Alessandro Russo. A fugitive on the run, but with ties to a human trafficking organization based in their city.
It was a good enough argument to assign officers who would work in shifts to protect each family. For now. Those resources wouldn’t be available for long, so Chloe and the task force would have to work fast.
Blake steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Jo and I are on judge protection duty in the morning. I was going to request someone else take my place, but now I plan on going to the judge’s home and questioning him. Now that Rachel is free of them, I don’t have to keep my mouth shut anymore. We can go after these guys full speed ahead.”
“First things first,” Linc said. “Let’s see what Judge Worthington has to say about all this. He’s agreed to meet us in the morning while Blake and Jo are there.”
Nods of agreement around the table.
Chloe blew out a short breath and stood. “I’ll see you all in the morning. I’m heading home.”
When she stepped out of the room, she nearly ran into the woman standing outside the door. “Ruthie?”
“Chloe. Hey, I’ve been waiting on you.” Dr. Ruthie St. John, skilled surgeon and another sibling.
“What’s up?” Chloe asked her.
“Dad said Sunday lunch is on. Does that work for you?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Chloe frowned. “What’s today anyway?”
“Thursday. Well, I guess it’s Friday now.” Ruthie touched Chloe’s forehead. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Fine. Just overworked and getting ready to be over overworked. Sunday may be just what I need by the time it gets here. If I can make it, I will. If not, I’ll let you know.”
“Great. I’ve left messages with the others.”
“Is there some occasion I’ve forgotten?”
“Nope.”
She nodded. “Good. Now I’m going home to get a couple hours’ sleep before we dig in again.”
Rachel didn’t know what time it was, she just knew she was exhausted. And it was dark. And she was scared. So far, no one had bothered to come into the barn and she’d been alone for hours. Well, she and her new friend, Smoky Hope. Because the cat reminded her of a billow of gray smoke and Hope because, right now, she needed some hope in her life.
Thankfully, she’d found an old horse blanket that stunk and had who knows what kind of creatures crawling in it, but she’d pulled it over her and welcomed the warmth it had offered.
Goose bumps still pebbled her arms, but she no longer felt like a block of ice. Smoky Hope huddled next to her, curled against her belly. Loath to move, but deciding it might be a better idea to sneak out under cover of darkness rather than wait for morning, she held the cat to her lips and kissed its soft head. “Bye, sweet kitty. Take care of yourself. I’d try to take you with me, but that’s probably not a good idea. At least you don’t have to worry about starving, there are plenty of mice around here.” Ick. She set the cat aside and stood, keeping the blanket pulled around her shoulders.
She opened the door, wincing at the shriek of the rusty hinges. Heart pounding, blood racing, she paused and listened while she peered out toward the house. A lone porch light burned and that was it. No lights in the rooms upstairs or down. She already knew the basement would be pitch black.
Nausea swirled at the memory. At the thought of going back down there.
When nothing happened, no more lights flicked on and no doors opened to investigate the sound coming from the barn, Rachel slipped out into the night. A quarter moon hung in the sky offering a bit of light, but not much.
Eyes scanning the area for any movement, she hurried across the open expanse of land, thankful she’d chosen the black converse tennis shoes instead of the clunky high heels someone had shoved at her. She’d tossed the heels and kept digging in the box until she’d found the tennis shoes.
Rachel reached the side of the house and stepped between the shrubs to peer in the window. The room was dark, and while she couldn’t see it from her position near the barn, there was a faint light inside. Probably a night-light. The blinds blocked her view for the most part, but she could make out a bed and someone in it. Probably one of the men taking his break from guard duty.
Slowly, she made her way around the house, looking in each window, careful to make as little noise as possible. Her pulse hammering beneath her skin, she reached the opposite side and stopped.
Cigarette smoke and low voices reached her.
Sweat pooled beneath her arms and her palms grew slick in spite of the chill in the air.
What were they saying?
Should she try to listen?
If they were out here, did that mean there wasn’t anyone watching the girls? Could she get inside and let them out of the cages?
Rachel bit her lip and shivered even as her stomach rumbled. Hunger hit her hard. The protein bar had lasted only so long. Pressing a hand against her stomach, she moved forward on silent feet. The voices became clearer. Carson and one she didn’t recognize. She peered around the corner.