This neighborhood was definitely better maintained than the trailer outside the warehouse. The small houses were older and set far apart from one another. Scraggly fruit trees filled every backyard. Lucy wondered if this was the home of one of the suspects, because it wasn’t like the others they’d seen. These houses looked like they had longtime residents who cared about their neighborhood and would notice strangers regularly coming in and out. But this particular house also had an attached garage, unlike most others. It would be easy to pull in a van and close the door, keeping the women out of sight.
“Based on Loretta’s notes, there could be up to eight women inside,” Lucy said. “She had fourteen women she was seeing who were all pregnant or had recently given birth. I’ve accounted for the two dead and the four we rescued; that leaves up to eight if Macey and Marisol are also here.”
Noah relayed the information to the SWAT team leader.
“No one is picking up the phone. My men are in position.”
“Eyes?”
“Negative. Working on it.”
Villines said, “SWAT has confirmed one gunman is in the rear. There are at least two female hostages in the rear bedroom.”
Lucy had an awful feeling about this. Dobleman and his cohorts knew they couldn’t get out of this as free men. Would they rather die?
SWAT got back on the bullhorn. “Lance Dobleman, it’s Kyle Brown again. I’d really like to talk to you. We all want the same thing, Lance. We all want to live. You want to live. You have a wife who wants you to live. Let’s talk, okay? Just pick up the phone and we can talk about this situation.”
Noah shook his head and said to Villines, “He’s the bodyguard to a woman known as Jasmine, the illegitimate daughter of a cartel leader. He knows he’s dead if he’s captured.”
“I don’t know this Jasmine,” Villines said.
“She’s the daughter of Don Flores, the dead leader of the Flores crime syndicate out of Mexico. It’s being run by his sons, according to my DEA contact. She’s a US citizen, hasn’t been on anyone’s radar except as to her parentage, but she’s suspected of running the black-market baby ring. Our white-collar experts are picking apart their shell companies as we speak, but she’s in the wind. We don’t even have a home address on her.”
Villines gestured to the house. “Maybe she’s inside.”
“Doubtful,” Noah said. “She’s long gone, probably bolted as soon as she heard the feds were in town. She was in Freer Sunday night—and that’s all we know.”
Noah was probably right, Lucy realized.
The SWAT leader was listening into his earpiece, then walked away as he spoke into his radio. “Reports. Alpha.”
A moment later there was sudden action as two teams of three, one each north and south of the house, ran around to the back, and another team approached the side of the garage and took cover against the wall.
Shouts from team members over the radio indicated there was movement inside, then a single shot came from inside the house followed by screams.
Noah and Lucy both pulled their weapons and squatted behind the squad car, eyes on the house. Nate was already behind the tactical van with a rifle. She hadn’t even seen him grab one.
Villines ran around to squat next to Noah. “They’re going to breach the house. SWAT believes they’re killing the hostages.”
Another gun shot from inside followed by commands from the SWAT team leader to go, go, go!
“Garage!” one of Villines’s deputies shouted. Whatever he said after was cut off by squealing tires; then the garage door broke apart as a white van burst out. There was no place for the driver to go, but he didn’t seem to care. He pressed the gas.
Villines went one way, and Noah and Lucy went the other. The van hit the squad car, the crunch of metal on metal echoing in the night. They ran as fast as they could to get out of the way. Gunfire followed from the back of the house, a burst then single shots then another burst.
Before the van completely stopped, the driver began to spray bullets indiscriminately from the driver’s window into the perimeter. Almost immediately multiple deputies fired at him and he slumped forward over the steering wheel. The van continued to roll forward, pushing the demolished squad car with it, until they were both wedged against a sheriff’s truck.
A swarm of SWAT officers surrounded the vehicle, guns drawn. There were screams from the back of the van. One cop opened the driver’s door while another held a rifle on the slumped-over body. He was clearly dead. They pulled the gun he’d used from the vehicle. Four other officers opened the back of the van. Lucy couldn’t hear their commands, but they were ordering whoever was inside to exit the vehicle.
Silence filled the air; only the sobs of women in the back of the van could be heard. SWAT started toward the front door when it opened.
Dobleman stood there on the small porch. He held a very pregnant woman in front of him. She was sobbing. Blood stained her dress and her face.
“Back away!” Dobleman screamed. He looked frantically about, left and right, wide-eyed. SWAT had him surrounded; they’d secured the house, and it appeared that Dobleman was the only remaining threat.
“Back off! I mean it!” He stopped at the edge of the porch. The .45 he carried was buried into the woman’s neck. “I’m leaving, right now, you’re going to let me go.”
The SWAT leader said, “Lance, it’s over. Put the gun down and you will live. Cooperate, it’ll help you.”