“The hell?”
“She’s not safe,” he said, staring me right in the eye.
I peered in his dark brown, glazed eyes and asked calmly, “Who’s not safe, Junior?”
“The girl.” He shook his head. “She’s pregnant, and sh-she needs help.” He suddenly let go of my arm and sat back in his seat. He began mumbling something about the devil being out to get him, and that the Armed One was going to take over. I dismissed his ramblings since this was par for the course with Junior. This wasn’t the first snatch and grab I’d done when it came to him. Though, this was the first cult he’d joined.
Before pulling out of the parking space, I reached over and strapped Junior intp his seatbelt and gave him one final look. He was talking more about a girl with a baby.
I was thankful that the drive to the psych hospital wouldn’t be too long. I’d purposefully had Sy make a reservation at a hotel that was nearby so I could drop this package off and get back to work. We still had a long drive ahead of us back to central Texas, and I wasn’t planning on taking the day off after that.
“He’s been off his meds for a few weeks, at least,” I told the doctor who came out to greet us. No doubt, he’d been called by Oliver Sr. to oversee his son’s admission to the hospital personally.
“Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”
I nodded and started to turn back for the truck when Junior again grabbed my arm as the doctor and nurse were attempting to lower him into a wheelchair.
“Save her. She needs help. You have to save her,” he implored, staring me in the eye.
Frowning, I removed my arm from his hold, but I kept my gaze on him. For a split second, it looked as if his gaze cleared, and he was sincerely trying to convey something to me. I thought back to everything I knew about the female members of the cult he joined. We’d been tracking them down for weeks as they traveled throughout parts of Texas. None of the women that we knew of were visibly pregnant. They’d all gone into the cult voluntarily. Most, like Junior, had come from upper-middle-class or affluent families. Yet, Junior was blabbering about a young girl that was poor, pregnant, and needed help. It didn’t line up with anything I knew about the cult. I shrugged off his ramblings. Junior likely was off his medications for too long.
However, as I walked back to the truck, a foreboding feeling grew in my stomach. His incoherent words did spark my curiosity. They reminded me of an old case. The only one that I’d failed to solve in my time as a Ranger.
Chapter Five
I quickly wrote down the name, phone number, and address for the private investigation firm I found online. This was the third PI firm I found near me over the past few days. I’d gone back and forth over what to do with the information I had. Admittedly, it wasn’t a lot, but for the past three nights, I’d been unable to sleep, thinking about what I found in my grandfather’s kitchen. That, coupled with the deep knowing I had he hadn’t killed himself, and I couldn’t hold out any longer.
I decided that this firm might be the one. The other businesses I looked up seemed legit enough, but the website of LS Investigations drew me to it. It came across as professional and competent.
A woman answered my call on the second ring, “LS Investigations, how may I help you?”
“Hello, my name is Jodi Taylor, and I’d like to make an appointment to speak with someone about potentially looking into something.”
“What would that something be, ma’am?”
Good question. I wasn’t quite sure what the hell I had on my hands. A kidnapping? A murder? A runaway case? All three?
“Um, well, I’m not quite certain, you see—”
“Please hold on one second.”
Annoyed, I sucked my teeth and listened. It sounded like the woman on the other end merely covered the phone with her hand.
“Sorry about that. Can you please tell me what your case is involving?”
“The death of my grandfather and I think it might be connected to a missing teenage girl.”
“Okay, hold on one moment, again.”
I started to say something, but then I could tell the woman had already moved the phone from her ear and covered it again. There were muffled sounds in the background. Then I heard a deep, male voice clearly say, “She ain’t worth the damn trouble.”
The sound and tone somehow reached down deep in me and stirred up anger and frustration I hadn’t felt before. I heated from the inside with an almost blinding rage. How dare this asshole say my case wasn’t worth it?
Before I could think better of it, I ended the phone call and grabbed the notebook I’d written down the address to LS Investigations on, then my keys, and I was out the door.
“Not worth it. I’ll show his ass,” I mumbled as I got in my grandaddy’s old truck, slamming the door behind me and pulling out of the driveway.
I didn’t know who this man thought I was, but he was about to find out.
