No. No.She had to get help.
She reached for her phone, still clasped in the holder. She tried to pry it free. Her hands were clumsy. Her fingers lifeless. She couldn’t move it.
Her car door groaned open.
Oh, good. Help.
She swung her head in slow motion. Saw a man. His face fuzzy. His body fuzzy. Was he wearing a ski mask? No. It was just her blurred vision. What was wrong with her?
“I’m hurt. Need help.” She tried to say more but the words wouldn’t form.
“You don’t want that phone,” he said, reaching over her and pushing her hand out of the way. “This is your wake-up call. Pay attention. Keep yourself and your mother safe. Now relax. Let the drug take hold.”
He was right. No help needed. Relax.
The drug. He said drug. What drug?
Her thoughts jumbled, tangling like the yarn her mother used for her knitting. Addy couldn’t form a coherent thought. Theeffort just too much for her. She let her arm drop and fell back into her seat. The blackness descended. She didn’t care and let the dark haze envelop her like a soupy fog of death.
Mack held his breath.
Sean pulled up the cellar door. “Police!”
He turned on his rifle’s light and slowly descended. Mack followed, watching behind as he moved. A strong musty odor wafted out. Thankfully not the smell of death, but also not the smell of three girls confined in this space for a long time.
Sean ran his light over the four-by-four-foot room. Jar after jar of marijuana filled the shelves lining the cellar walls.
Mack’s hope vanished. “Williams did have something to hide. Just not the girls.”
Sean muttered something under his breath and lowered his rifle. “We didn’t expect to find the girls here, but still.”
“Yeah, but we hoped for a lead at least.” Mack met Sean’s gaze and shared a moment of commiseration. “Let’s get Williams processed so we can interview him and maybe find something to go on.”
Mack headed back into the house, passing the deputies who were hauling the couple off. The prisoners glared at Mack, but he ignored them and climbed the steps. Kiley gave him an expectant look, and he shook his head.
She grimaced.
“I’ll update Eisenhower while you two search this place,” Mack said. “Let’s find anything that says the girls were here.”
She dug latex gloves from her pocket. “If it exists, we’ll find it.”
It was theIf it existsthat had been the bane of this investigation. Never finding a solid enough lead to move forward until the only eyewitness underwent hypnosis and remembered the van.
Now what did they have? Looked like nothing.
“Let’s get to it,” Mack said, trying to sound hopeful but failing miserably. He normally tended toward being grumpy, and in this case his anger was threatening to join in.
Sean and Kiley started going through the room littered with takeout containers and ashtrays overflowing with marijuana-cigarette butts. He stepped onto the ramshackle porch and took a long breath of the warm country air. He got out his phone that had been on silent for hours. A missed call and a voicemail from Addy popped up on his screen. His gut clenched. She never called unless it was important.
His Spidey sense had been tingling and yet nothing had gone wrong on the op. Was she the reason for his unease? Was she in trouble? They might be separated, but he still felt responsible for protecting her, even if she lived an entire country away from him.
He wanted to return her call. Desperately. But couldn’t. Not just yet. Not until he saw this op through. He started to dial their supervisor when an unknown call came in with a Portland, Oregon area code.
He should ignore it. Should. But he wouldn’t. Not with the call from Addy and the worry that had his gut in a knot.
“Mack Jordan,” he answered.
“Oh, good, Mr. Jordan. Glad I caught you. This is Beth Ann Rogers. I’m an ER nurse at St. Vincent Hospital. Your wife was in a car accident and sustained a serious head injury.”
