Annabelle considered it for a moment before nodding. “It’s an easy place for kids and if they did it to an adult toward the back, no one would ever know.”
Rachel rose from her spot and rummaged in a nearby dresser, pulling out a pair of scissors. “We don’t have time to search this thick head of yours. We need to cut it.”
Rebecca grabbed her hair, knowing the woman made a good point. The thick, heavy mass would take too much time and they still needed to search the remaining people.
“Cut it,” Rebecca said, her voice cracking.
Rachel grabbed a comb, brushed it out, and tied it into a ponytail. Taking the scissors, she sawed through the thick mass. She handed the piece to Rebecca as Annabelle and she took a side and started parting it, searching carefully.
Rebecca stroked the mass as she fought back the tears. Julio always loved her long, thick hair and the traffickers managed to steal it away from her, too.
“Wait,” Rachel exclaimed, leaning closer and rubbing a tiny spot on the back of Rebecca’s head.
Annabelle leaned over and examined the area. “I’ve never seen one before, it’s tiny.”
Rebecca felt the small lump. “It’s smaller than I’ve seen, but technology changes daily.”
“We need to get it out,” Annabelle said. “I don’t have enough medication to numb the area for all of you.”
“Cut it out,” Rebecca insisted when she saw Annabelle hesitate.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Don’t you cut people for living? What a wuss,” she exclaimed, grabbing a small pocketknife and a lighter from the nightstand. She sterilized the blade and leaned over. Annabelle fetched a shirt from the chair to catch the blood. Rebecca flinched as Rachel made a slice and dug out the tracker with the tip of the knife.
“I got it,” she said, pressing the shirt to Rebecca’s head.
Annabelle removed it and peered at the cut. “I don’t think it needs stitches. We need to bandage it.”
“There’s a first aid kit downstairs. Between your supplies and it, we might have enough to get everyone done,” Rachel said, wiping the blade as she headed toward the door. When they didn’t follow her, she frowned and jerked her head toward the stairs. “Time’s wasting, ladies, we have trackers to destroy.”
Rebecca rose and held the shirt to her head while Annabelle helped her dress and slide into her boots. She stuck the gun in her waistband and headed downstairs. Rachel came around the corner, carrying a toolbox, a roll of paper towels and a jug of water.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” Rebecca asked. “I’ll get it.”
“I have it,” Rachel said, holding up the toolbox. Seeing Rebecca’s expression, she smiled wryly. “I tend to have a lot of accidents in the kitchen.”
Rebecca chuckled, taking some of the supplies from Rachel and heading down to the basement. Gathering the women, she explained they didn’t have enough numbing medication to go around and they needed to remove the trackers.
One by one, the women sat in a chair while Delaney held a flashlight. They cut hair as they needed and found the tiny specs.
Kara gazed at Rebecca warily. “Will it hurt?”
“We have enough numbing medication for the rest of you. It will only pinch,” she assured her.
“Will you have to cut my hair?” Kara asked, seeming nervous.
“No, sweetheart. Your hair’s not as thick as Rebecca’s. We can get to it,” Rachel soothed. “When we finish with this mess, I’m taking you to my hairstylist. You need some bangs and something to frame your beautiful face,” she said, parting the teen’s hair for Rebecca to search.
“Will it cost a bunch?” Kara asked as Annabelle numbed the area and removed the tracker.
“Nope,” Rachel assured her. “Maybe we’ll add a few highlights.”
“Can we stay focused? We have four more to go,” Rebecca said softly.
In no time at all, they removed the others and Delaney passed Rebecca a hammer. “You each deserve to destroy them. Smash them to hell.”
Rebecca let it fly, sending tiny particles all over the floor. Kara pounded hers next, and they stood to the side as each woman and child regained a small part of their power.
“Let me bandage your cut,” Annabelle insisted. She cleaned the area and applied a small bandage.
