“No, ma’am.”
She scoffed. “Come on. All you teens have cell phones.”
“I don’t have it with me and I need to call my dad. Please?”
She waved a hand. “All right, honey. I got a landline you can use. Help yourself. And girl, where is your coat? It’s too cold to be walking around out there in that flimsy outfit.” She pulled a handset off the base next to the cash register and handed it to Rachel. “Now, don’t be taking off with it, you hear?”
Rachel blinked. Take off with it? “Of course not. I wouldn’t.” What in the world would she do with a handset?
“Hmm.” The woman reached behind her. “And here. It’ll be too big for you, but put this around you. You’re practically blue.”
Rachel took the heavy fleece-lined hoodie with a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’ll give it back to you in just a few minutes. It won’t take my dad long to get here.” She hoped.
With a huge sigh of relief and on the edge of tears, she stepped to the side, put the warm coat tight around her, and leaned her forehead against the wall as she dialed her father’s number.
Blake and Chloe had returned to the downtown headquarters office to meet with the rest of the task force. Impatience clawed at him. What was he doing to help find Rachel? What was he not doing that he should be doing?
Linc stood at the front of the room and faced the conference table, surrounded by those on the task force. “We’ve got a name we’re going to follow up on,” he was saying. “Ethan Wright. For some reason, Rachel MacCallum, who was on the truck with the other victims, left the hospital and climbed into the back of this man’s SUV. We believe it was deliberate, that she followed him for a reason. I think once we find her—or him—we’ll have a lead on our traffickers. David and his FBI counterpart are working together on this. Hopefully, they’ll have something for us to chase down soon. What we do know is that he’s former Army turned bestselling artist for one of the local galleries. His work is in high demand. He’s no longer living at the address indicated on his driver’s license, but we don’t have a forwarding address right now. Should have that soon. He’s teaching several art classes at the university. He’s supposed to be in class right this minute, but when we called to speak with him, we were told he’d called in sick this morning. And he might very well be sick. He’s got no priors and is squeaky clean, so he’s simply a person of interest we want to talk to.”
Blake’s phone buzzed. He didn’t recognize the number but immediately answered, muscles bunching. “MacCallum here.” He stood and motioned he was going to step out of the room. Linc nodded.
“Blake?”
He blinked and stopped. “Rachel? Is that you? Where are you?”
All talking ceased. Every eye was on him. He hit the speaker button. “Hang on one second.” He motioned to Linc. “Record this.”
Linc nodded and immediately had his phone next to Blake’s, the record app going. “Where are you, Rachel?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice raspy and hurried. “I’m at a gas station. Hold on, I’ll ask.” He didn’t want her to stop talking, but at least he could still hear her. “What’s the address here?”
Blake heard whoever Rachel was talking to give the street address. “Chapin, South Carolina, honey,” the woman said.
“Chapin?” Blake nearly shouted. “How did you get there? In the back of that Suburban?”
She sucked in a breath. “How’d you know about that?”
“Got it on hospital security footage, kiddo.”
“Come get me, Blake—Dad—please. I’m scared. I know I’ve been rotten to you and I don’t deserve for you to come to the rescue, that I’m . . . I’m not really yours, but I’m—”
“I’m already on the way,” he said, grabbing his keys from his pocket and heading for the door.
Linc immediately mobilized the team and within seconds, they were out the door. Chloe headed to her vehicle and Blake stayed on her heels.
“I’ll drive you, get in,” she said.
He didn’t argue.
Hank hopped in his area and Chloe cranked the SUV. She was pulling out of the parking lot before he had his seatbelt fastened. “Rach, you still with me?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
In the rearview mirror, Blake saw Linc fall in behind them. “We’re on the way, but it’s going to be about thirty minutes before I can get there. I’m going to send some local officers to stay with you until then, okay?”
“Okay.”
Chloe was already on her Bluetooth with the dispatcher. She listened, then nodded. “Someone should be there within ten minutes.”
“You get that?” Blake asked.
“Ten minutes. Okay, Dad, I’ll be here. Dad?”
“Yes?”
“The house is near here. It’s where they’re holding the girls. I walked from the house to the street, but there are other girls there right now. We have to rescue them. Lindsey’s there and—” Her voice rose with each sentence, her hysteria rising.
“What’s the address?”
“I don’t know. I never saw a street sign. I just know it’s not too far from here. And it’s got a barn. And . . . and . . . a walking path thing that goes in a circle around the whole property through the woods. But that’s all I know. I just can’t . . . I don’t know—”
“It’s okay, Rach. We’ll figure that out when we get there.” He needed her to stay calm. “Who’s the guy in the Suburban? Do you know him? His name is Ethan Wright.”
“Who? No, I’ve never heard of him.”
“Then why were you following him?”
Silence.
“Rachel? You there?”
More silence. He looked at his phone and saw the call had been disconnected.
14
Rachel looked down at the handset, then put it back to her ear. “Blake? Dad?”
Had his cell phone dropped the call?
She looked back at the counter only to find no one there. Where had the woman gone?
And the others? She swept her gaze around the store. Then moved down the aisle only to stop with a gasp.
Two customers lay unmoving on the floor and there was no sign of the woman behind the counter.
A chill zipped up her spine. She looked at the handset as though it would have the answers. “Dad? Answer me.”
“He can’t, Rachel,” the voice said.
She spun to the right.
And screamed.
A man with a ski mask stepped out from behind a tall display of cokes.
“No,” she whispered. “No, I’m not going back!”
Dark eyes gleamed at her from behind the ski mask. A cruel mouth grinned at her and advanced, the spray bottle in his right hand. “Yes, I’m afraid you are. Landlines don’t work very well when they’re not pugged in.” He held up the base. The unplugged base.
“My dad knows where I am. I told him about you. I told him about the house with the barn and the girls—”
He said nothing and she could tell he didn’t care. How had he found her? How had he known she was here?
He advanced, and with a sick twist in her belly, she realized that when she’d leaned against the wall, she turned her back on the door . . . and everything that went on behind her. So stupid. How many times had her dad warned her to keep her eyes open and on her surroundings.
Despair and fury raced through her. She could not let him take her.
Rachel lunged at him. His eyes widened at her charge, his surprise causing him to stumble backward. She intended to use the phone as a weapon and lashed out, catching the side of his head, not with the phone but with her knuckles. Pain radiated from her fingers up her arm and she dropped the handset. It clattered to the floor and bounced off the wall.
He cried out and went to his knees, the spray bottle hitting the floor and skidding under the nearest display rack.
With a howl of rage, he dove for it while Rachel raced out of the front of the store.