Finally, the men attached to the voices came into view, thanks to the motion light that came on. One of them had a young teen tossed over his left shoulder. Probably the one who’d been uncooperative. She didn’t recognize him or the girl, but she saw Carson come around from behind them, a key ring jangling in his fist. At the side of the house, he stopped, then bent over at the waist.
Rachel’s breath caught when she realized what he was doing.
And frowned. That’s not where the girls were kept. What was he doing with her?
Taking deep breaths in order to slow her pounding heart, she continued to watch. He opened the double doors that were attached to the cellar-like opening, and the man carrying the girl disappeared down the steps.
Within a minute or two, he returned empty-handed and Carson shut the doors, then bolted them with a padlock.
“Leave her down there for a day or so and she’ll break,” the man said.
“Wish we could just drug ’em,” Carson grumbled.
“Yeah, well, we can’t. Not these girls. Not with these clients. Right now, the money’s better than ever and that’s the way I want to keep it.” He paused. “And if you ever hit one again, I’ll kill you.”
“Like you killed Manny?”
“He was a liability. It was time for him to go.”
Carson sighed. “You said to shut her up.”
“Exactly. Didn’t say to mark her up, did I?”
A slight pause. “No. You didn’t. Sorry.”
“This is your only pass. Don’t screw it up again.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Now we’ve got a missing one to find. Let’s get busy.”
The two men rounded the side of the house and went inside.
Rachel let out a shallow breath and swallowed hard. She had to do something. They’d killed Manny. Not that she was upset about his death, but . . . she was. It hit home that these guys were serious. They didn’t mess around and she didn’t want to fall back into their hands.
And she had to find a way to get the other girls away from them.
She needed a plan.
A better one than what she’d come up with just before she’d drifted off to sleep.
But as long and as hard as she thought, she couldn’t figure out anything else.
So . . . plan A it would be. Go down the driveway, hit the road and follow it until she came to a store or a gas station that had a phone and call 911.
But first, she needed food. She stayed to such a strict diet that she didn’t usually have issues with low blood sugar, but the beginning symptoms were there. Lightheaded and nauseous, heart palpitations, sleepiness. She drew in a deep breath, then blew it out. She pulled the pod off. No sense in pumping more insulin in if she wasn’t eating.
Food. She had to find some. Now. Passing out wasn’t an option, but her body wouldn’t give her any choice if she didn’t do something about it.
Keeping the horse blanket wrapped around her, she eased the door open and stepped into the wide-open-anyone-looking-toward-the-barn-would-see-her space. She shut the door with as little noise as possible and darted toward the driveway. Staying far enough away from the house so that she didn’t trigger the light was extremely important.
With a pounding heart, she hurried as fast as she could without making any noise until she could run parallel to the drive. Once she reached the end, she was out of sight and surrounded by trees. Her absolute terror at being discovered faded slightly. Now, which way? Right or left?
She remembered turning right into the driveway so she decided to go the way they’d come.
Gripping the horse blanket tight, she started walking. If she saw a car, she’d have to find a way to hide. In the dark, it wouldn’t be that hard. She could just drop to the ground. The wet, cold ground. But until she was far enough away from the house, she couldn’t take the chance that a passing car might be someone involved with the rest of the people at that house of horrors.
Streetlights were few and far between, but they did pop up occasionally, causing her to have to walk farther from the road to avoid being cast in the light. Fortunately, trees lined both sides of the two-lane road, offering her plenty of places to duck into.
And each time a car passed, she did.
The passing cars were also few and far between. Scant enough that it made her nervous about flagging one for help. She knew not every one of the passing cars held someone who would hurt her, but she simply couldn’t take the chance that the one who stopped would be the wrong one.
“Just keep walking,” she whispered. Her stomach cramped and her throat felt dry. At the barn, she’d been able to use the water hose connected to it, but out here . . .
A car approached, the headlights sweeping across her before she could duck.
She dove into the protection of the trees as the vehicle slowed, then pulled to a stop. “Hey, anyone out there?”
Her stomach clenched. She couldn’t be positive, but he sure sounded like one of the men from the cage room. Maybe. Or maybe she was just so scared that every voice she heard would sound like one of them.
Heart pounding, she closed her eyes. This was why she hadn’t flagged down any passing cars. This was why the only person she would trust to help her was Blake. He might not want her, but he’d never do anything to put her in danger. And he would help. Surely he would.
Soon the man climbed back into the car and roared off down the road. Rachel let out a slow breath. She could do this. She would do this. Maybe if she rescued the girls, her father would love her. Just maybe.
Only one way to find out.
Pressing on, fighting the nausea and the desperate need for food, she walked, then stumbled. Gritting her teeth, she kept going. Passing out was not an option.
Five steps later, a light caught her attention. A house set back off the road. She knew she had to chance it—and maybe they had a phone.
Once she reached the front door, she noticed one car in the driveway, but other than the porch light, the rest of the house was dark. With a shaky finger, she pressed the doorbell then ran and hid behind the bushes.
She waited.
No one came. No dog barked.
Nothing.
Rachel made her way back up to the front door and rang the bell again. Then hurried to hide once more.
Again, no one came to the door.
“Okay, you can do this. Everyone leaves out a spare key. Just find it.”
She made her way to the back door and tried the knob.
And found it unlocked. “Or they just don’t bother to lock up out here in the middle of nowhere.”
She gave a silent laugh and pushed the door open. Stepping inside, she stayed as silent as possible while the darkness pressed in on her.
Once her eyes adjusted, she moved into the kitchen and stopped when she found a bunch of bananas. She pulled two off and shoved them into her back pocket. She removed a third and ate it. A bowl of M&Ms sat on the counter and she stuffed three handfuls into her front pocket.
It might not be a good idea to open the refrigerator. Would someone be able to see the light from the road? Probably not, but why chance it?
Instead, she opened the pantry and found it a bit bare, but a jar of peanut butter and a package of crackers stared at her from the eye-level shelf.
“Marge, that you?”
Rachel froze, her breath caught in her throat as the light flicked on in the hallway and footsteps headed her way.
“When’d you get home? I didn’t hear the car pull up.”
Rachel grabbed the peanut butter and crackers and darted for the door.
13
SATURDAY MORNING
At 9:00 a.m., Blake met Chloe and Hank outside the first place on the list they’d put together last night. She handed him a cup of coffee and he took a sip. Black, just like he liked it. “Thanks.”
“Welcome. Did you sleep?”
“Nope. You?”
“Not much. A little.”
He took another swig, ignoring the burn as it went down. He’d already gulped one cup before he left the house. After this one, he might consider himself appropriately caffeinated to work. “Did Linc call you this morning?”
“He did.”
“So, you and Hank are officially Deputy US Marshals. Welcome to protection duty.”
“Thanks. I suppose he told you that Hank and I were assigned to be with you and JoAnn. Stacy and her K-9, Max, are with Parker and Justin.”