Something shifted on top of the stage, and he ducked down behind the last row of chairs. His breath caught and his blood pounded so loudly in his ears he was surprised it didn’t bounce around the high ceiling above him. A beat passed and he lifted his eyes over the seat. The stage was too far; he couldn’t see what was on it. Staying low to the ground, he walked on the balls of his feet and moved as quietly as possible toward where the screen must have hung years ago. The dirty carpet on the aisle muffled his footsteps and he squinted his eyes to see clearer. A tiny light illuminated the first few rows, along with the stage, but he was still too far away to make out what was up there.
Row by row, inch by inch, he moved closer. He held his breath, afraid even the whisper of air from his lungs would be heard in the large space. As he approached the third row, the silhouette on the stage took shape. His cheeks puffed out as he held his scream trapped inside. On the stage, huddled together on a blanket, were the three missing girls. Becca sat in the middle, her arms wrapped around a girl on either side of her. She held her chin high, and when she caught sight of him, her eyes widened.
He lifted his finger to his lips, but it was too late. A beast of a man sitting in the front row stood and turned toward him.
“Run! He has a gun!” Becca shouted.
Graham stood tall, pointed his gun at the man, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang loud in the stillness of the room. The girls shrieked and the man dropped to the ground. Graham ran up the aisle and paused long enough to make sure the man was dead before leaping onto the stage. The two girls shrank awayfrom him, and his heart broke, but Becca met his eyes with a defiant sneer. Pride blossomed in his chest.
“I’m with the FBI. I’ve been looking for you three. Is there anyone else here with you?”
Her face softened and tears hovered in her blue eyes. Dirt caked her round cheeks and her blond hair fell limply past her shoulders. She shook her head. “He’s been the only one here for a while. There’s a woman that’s usually here, but she left a while ago. She said she’d be back soon to take us to a new house. He was supposed to make sure we didn’t run. And Pete.” Becca’s face crumbled as she mentioned his name and Graham fought the urge to pull her into his arms. That might scare her right now.
“I already found Pete. He won’t hurt you anymore. Was there ever anyone else? Any other name mentioned in front of you?”
Becca sniffed back a sob and shook her head. The other girls buried their heads in Becca’s side and their little bodies shook from the force of their tears. Even though all the girls were close to the same age, Becca had obviously become their safe place to hide in the last few days.
Dammit. Where the hell is Mickey?
“Okay,” he said and glanced at his phone. No service. “I need to call the police and they will be here soon to help. The man down there is dead, so don’t look at him, okay?”
Becca’s gaze flickered to the floor and then back up to Graham. Her pupils dilated with fear. “Aren’t you staying with us until the police come? What if someone comes back?”
“No one’s coming back. I promise. But, Becca, the woman who was here, she has Mickey. I have to find them.”
“Mickey?” Becca’s voice broke and fat tears slid down her dirty cheeks.
Graham blew out a breath. He couldn’t leave them here. “I want you three to come with me. We’ll walk outside and I’ll call for help. I’ll wait with you until they get here, okay?”
Becca nodded and whispered into the other girls’ ears. All three stood and slowly walked toward him. His blood pumped furiously as they walked down the stairs and he ground the heel of his foot in the ground to keep from kicking the sonofabitch on the floor. “Follow me.”
Turning around, he walked back up the aisle and into what used to be the lobby. Broken glass littered the floor and beams of moonlight shone in through cracked windows. He led the way to the front door and kicked it open with his foot. Fresh air welcomed him outside, and he held the door open for the girls to walk through. Once the door was closed, he unlocked his phone and called the police.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s no-nonsense tone spoke through the phone.
“This is Agent Graham Grassi with the FBI. I’ve found three missing girls who were all taken by Pete Bogart within the last three weeks. The latest being Becca Stanley taken on Sunday morning. I need backup ASAP, as well as their families notified.”
“Okay, Agent Grassi. What is your location?”
That’s a good question.
He turned in a circle and tried to find a street sign or landmark, something to tell him where in the city they were. The tree-lined streets were quiet, not a pedestrian in sight. Brick townhouses and mom and pop restaurants came into view and the world shifted under his feet. Fury tunneled his vision until only one thing stood out in his mind.
Lieutenant Harper’s townhouse.
25
Adoor banged shut and Mickey flinched as the sound penetrated through the darkness of her mind and assaulted her pounding head.
A groan rumbled deep in her throat but stopped before she could let it escape her cracked lips. Her tongue moved against the dryness of her mouth and nausea rolled around in her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered and her stiff muscles ached for relief. Shifting to the side, she rolled her shoulders and arched her back. Joints cracked with the movement, and she stretched her arms high above her head.
Her shoulder screamed in protest and her wrists refused to come apart. Reality crashed down on her and her eyes flew open. Fear bit into her with the strength of a pit bull, quickly turning her nausea to bile. Her head spun and dizziness blurred her vision. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkened room, and her gaze fell on a woman curled into a ball in the corner.
Paula!
Pushing away the blinding pain piercing through her, she shifted her body weight from side to side and anchored herjoined hands on the ground to push herself up on her knees. She inched her way over, swaying as she tried to regain her equilibrium. Was the room spinning, or was that her head? Saliva pooled in her mouth and she pushed it back down her esophagus. She couldn’t lose it, she had to push on and figure out where the hell she was. The carpet rubbed against her bare knees as she made her way across the room to Paula.
Leaning down to whisper in her ear, Mickey said, “Paula, are you okay?”
