“. . . get her back.”
“I know.” Carson held a cigarette to his lips and drew on it. As though he had all the time in the world, he blew the smoke out. It curled in the night air, aiming for the clouds she couldn’t see but knew were there. How many times had she wished she could simply evaporate and disappear from the cage that had held her?
Too many to count.
But she couldn’t focus on that right now.
“This is your fault, you know.”
“My fault? I didn’t have a wreck and then get myself killed and allow the girls to be discovered. You can’t put this on me.”
“Your face is on the security cameras now at the hospital.”
“You told me to go looking for her! And so what? Even if they run me through some system, nothing will show up. That’s why you hired me, remember?”
The other man snorted, took Carson’s cigarette, inhaled, then tossed the remains to the ground. He stomped it out and crossed his arms. “He’s still alive.”
“No kidding.”
“Then do something about it.”
“It’s in the works,” Carson said.
A sigh slipped from the stranger and he raked a hand through his hair. With his back to her, she couldn’t see his face, but she knew for sure she’d never heard his voice before. In that dungeon where she’d been kept, all she—and the others—could do was listen when their captors talked. This was a new voice.
And who was the “he” they were referring to? Who was it they wanted dead so bad?
“I’m going to bed,” Carson said. “I’ve been up since yesterday morning.”
“I’ll keep watch.”
“We’ve got three new girls coming tomorrow.”
“Good. Losing that truckload of inventory cost us big-time. We’ve got a lot of money to make up.”
“Roger that.”
Rachel closed her eyes at the thought of the poor girls, the inventory, but she couldn’t worry about them for now. Right now, she had to find help for Lindsey. Maybe if she was able to save Linds, her father would—
No. Don’t go there.
She took a step back, her foot landed on something hard, and a loud crack echoed around her.
Carson stopped walking. “What was that? Hey! Is someone out here?” He turned to the other man. “You go that way. I’ll check over here.”
Rachel sucked in a silent breath and ducked down behind a bush, curling into the tightest ball she could, huddled up against the side of the house. Footsteps came her way. Seconds ticked. A flash of light passed over her head. Probably the light on his phone. She didn’t dare move.
They were going to find her and she would never see her father or the rest of her family again. Lindsey and the other girls were going to be sold off and Rachel was going to die. Because she’d kill herself before she let herself be used like that.
Bottom line was she was a loser, a failure. Her throat grew tight, sobs wanted to burst through. Biting her lip, she refused to allow a sound to escape.
The footsteps passed by. “It’s nothing, man. I’m going to bed,” Carson finally said.
“Go,” the unidentified man said, “we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
Rachel kept her eyes closed and slowly let out a silent breath. They hadn’t found her. She was still free. She still had a chance to help Lindsey and the others.
So, now what should she do?
8
FRIDAY MORNING
Blake gripped a handful of his hair and walked the length of the den. He had a much better understanding of people who stated they were frustrated to the point of pulling their hair out. Yep. He got that now.
He’d arrived at the Worthington house for his shift, and neither the judge nor his wife had yet to put in an appearance. Linc seemed to be biting his tongue and hanging on to his patience by a thread.
JoAnn placed a hand on Blake’s arm and raised a brow. “Chill.”
“I’m chill.”
“You’re anything but.”
He grimaced. “Where are they?”
“They’re here,” Deputy US Marshal Parker Hunt said. “She’s still in bed and he’s working in his home office. He said he had two phone calls to make and then he’d be happy to talk to you.”
“You’re going to have to have some patience,” JoAnn told him under her breath.
“I don’t have any left.”
His partner rolled her eyes, but the concern for him was there. He knew she cared and he appreciated it.
It didn’t do anything to help his raging desire to go find the judge and haul him bodily out of his office and question him, but he really did appreciate it.
Parker sat at the kitchen table and his partner, Justin Bolton, poured himself a cup of coffee. They would stay with Mrs. Worthington while Blake and Jo covered the judge.
They looked like quadruplets in their matching clothing. Navy blazers with their plastic pocket IDs and khaki pants. Justin had on his baseball cap with the USM emblem on the front. For this assignment, Blake and Jo both wore body armor as a protective measure. The judge would wear one too.
“He’s got a ten o’clock court time,” Blake said.
“That’s an hour from now,” Linc said. “But I’m going to have to run if he’s not out here in the next fifteen minutes.”
Ten minutes ticked slowly past.
The front door opened and Blake recognized Paula, the judge’s daughter. Miles, the fiancé, followed her. “But you have to tell me this stuff, Miles,” Paula was saying over her shoulder. “Seriously. How can you keep—” She broke off when she spotted Blake and the others. “Oh. You’re here.”
“Did you think we wouldn’t be?”
“No, of course not.”
Both carried fresh bagels if the odor emanating from the bags was any indication. His stomach rumbled as he stepped forward to take them from her. “Let me help.”
“Thank you.”
Miles was already in the kitchen pulling small plates from the cupboard.
Blake set the bags on the counter. “I didn’t realize you two were coming for breakfast.”
“I decided we needed an intervention,” Paula said. “Dad needs to drop this crazy human trafficking issue and get out of the sights of whoever has a bead on him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”
Blake raised a brow. “So, you just let them win?”
“Yes,” she snapped, “if it means staying alive.”
“If it wasn’t your father, how would you counsel him?” Blake asked. “To run or fight?”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She turned on her heel and left him standing there.
“Never seen anyone shut her up like that before,” Miles said. “Wow. That was actually kind of impressive.”
“I don’t mean to discount her feelings for her father, but if he gives in to these people, it’ll set a precedent.”
“You think?”
“Don’t you?”
Miles nodded, eyes thoughtful. He snitched a bagel from the bag and wrapped it in a napkin. “Well, I can’t stay. I’m just playing delivery boy for Paula. There’s enough for everyone. Dig in.” He turned. “Honey?”
“In here,” she called from the den.
Miles headed to tell his fiancée goodbye while Linc and Jo helped themselves to a bagel each. “Oh yum,” Jo said. “Hey, Blake, there’s blueberry.”
“Save me one.” He had a question for Paula. In the den, she and her fiancé were deep in conversation—the one they’d been having as they walked in the door?—and he almost turned around, but stopped when he heard her gasp. “Murdered? That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Who was murdered?” Blake asked. He knew it was nosey, but he couldn’t help it.
“Miles’s brother,” Paula said without taking her eyes from her fiancé.
“Half brother,” Miles said. “And it was two years ago.”
“Is that his picture?” Blake asked.
She held it out to him. “I was sorting his clothes for his next trip and this fell out.”
Blake took a look. A younger version of Miles stood next to a boy who looked to be in his teens. “Good-looking couple of kids,” he said.
Miles’s lips thinned. “Yeah. I miss him.” He plucked the photo from Paula’s fingers and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Let’s move on to happier topics.”