Altercation (11 page)

J
aci clutched Amanda’s hand, unable to tear her eyes off the road in front of them. Their driver, a wiry man with a Latino complexion and beady eyes, veered to a field in front of a trailer park. A dark blue SUV sat under the interstate bridge.

She trembled. Only thirty minutes ago they’d been at McDonald’s, waiting for Crystal to appear with their food. What had happened to her?

The man parked the car and dropped the keys into his pocket. A broad-shouldered blond got out of the SUV and hurried over. Jaci stared at him. He seemed familiar, though she couldn’t place him. The dark-skinned one opened the door and pulled Jaci out, and the big guy grabbed Amanda.

Jaci winced at the way his fingers dug into her collar bone. She hunched her shoulders, trying to worm out of his grip. It only tightened.

The side doors to the SUV popped open, revealing two familiar faces. Jaci stopped, the cold dread crawling over her like icy fingers. Grey, easily recognizable because of his perpetually fat lip, and The Hand.

The Latino hit her on the back of the head. “Get in!”

She fought hard to keep her face blank. She could feel The Hand’s cold blue eyes on her as she sat next to Grey.

Amanda crawled in beside her, followed by their kidnapper. The big blond guy slammed all the doors closed and got into the driver’s side, bumping the car out of the field.

“Heads down,” The Hand said, eyes fixated on their faces.

Jaci put her head between her knees, feeling the heat rush to her face. She blinked back tears. Did he have Sara? Or had she gotten away? Jaci was afraid to ask.

The vehicle sped up as if entering the interstate. She heard the clicking of the blinker light, felt the momentum slow. They went at a slower speed for a few minutes, then the engine gears engaged and they sped up again.

They were back on the interstate. Had they come to an interstate junction?

Or had they turned around?

The instant she thought it, the idea stuck in her head. He could be trying to keep the police off their trail by driving in circles.

After an hour and a half, she had no idea where they were. They could be anywhere.

The hulky blond slowed the car down, then drifted it to idle. The cabin of the SUV darkened. Finally, the vehicle stopped.

“One at a time,” The Hand ordered.

The wiry Latin dude opened the door and hopped out. He took Amanda and hauled her down, slamming the door behind them.

Jaci panicked. Where was he taking her? She scooted toward the door. But Grey’s hand snaked out and gripped her wrist, his fat lower lip twisting. He slammed her face-down on the car floor so fast that the wind knocked out of her.

“One more move like that, Missy, and you won’t remember your name.”

The pressure didn’t let up, but she finally got in a deep breath. Tears slipped from her eyes and ran down her nose.

The car door opened behind her, sending a rush of cold air into the vehicle. Someone grabbed her ankle and pulled her to her feet outside the car. He pushed her head down and gripped both her wrists in one hand.

She stared at his shoes on the concrete as he moved her forward, her feet crunching over shards of glass and wires. The air smelled stale and filthy, like a few animals had made this place their final resting place.

He kicked open a door and shoved her inside. A window lit up the room, the square of evening light flickering on the hard cement floor.

He released her head, and Jaci saw it was the dark, wiry man that led her forward. He fiddled with a closet door. The metal door fitted together so well that only a millimeter of space showed between the frame and the floor. He turned a key in the latch and pulled her to his side. His hot breath raked over her face, his black eyes devouring her. He ran his hands down the length of her body before opening the door and thrusting her inside.

Before she could even get her arms out to catch herself, she slammed into the inside wall and slumped to the ground.

M
ontana was not far from Idaho. It only took five hours to drive from Missoula to Idaho Falls, but her father liked to arrange an early check-in, if possible. And then he always arrived in time to do a scan of the area and hotel to make sure they were safe, with their privacy secure.

Megan had been awake since five in the morning. Not all that unusual, but after being in a van with her brother and two sisters for four and a half hours, even the relief at getting away from school was dissipating.

The oldest child of the Reynolds clan, she was often called upon to supervise. As a fight broke out in the back seat between the two youngest, today was no exception.

“Megan, dear.” Her mother leaned her head sideways on the headrest. She made no other move from the passenger seat at the front of the van. “Please protect the baby.”

Megan heaved a sigh, undid her seatbelt, and scrambled to her knees. “Hey! Give that back!” She snatched the Styrofoam airplane away from Whitney and handed it back to the screaming eleven-month-old.

“Oh, brother,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Megan, make them stop!”

Megan gave him a half grin and redid her belt. “You’re up next. Hope you have some magic tricks up your sleeve.”

Mr. Reynolds’ cell phone rang. Mrs. Reynolds started fishing through her handbag for it. Megan watched with mild amusement, doubting her mother’s ability to find the phone before the voicemail picked up. She turned on her iPod and popped the buds into her ears. She nodded her head to the music, watching the fields of dying grasses go by outside the window.

“No. No. I hadn’t heard.”

Her father’s tone of voice sliced through the noise, and she turned down the song. She shifted her gaze from the window and stared at the back of his head.

“We’ll be at our hotel in half an hour. I’ll call you then.”

“What is it?” Mrs. Reynolds asked her husband.

“Something’s happened to the girls.”

Megan’s throat went dry. She turned her music up and tried to lose herself in the scenery again, but all she could imagine was the terror of having to trust someone else with her life. Goose bumps popped up under her turtleneck, and she rubbed her arms.

They reached the Holiday Inn Express half an hour later. Megan got Becca, the baby, without being told. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window and made a face. Her straightened strawberry-brown hair was tucked behind her ears, making them poke out. She wore no makeup except her mascara. Between her appearance, the baby in her arms, and the small pooch poking out over her jeans, she looked like a young mom. Megan harrumphed and decided to go easy on Thanksgiving dinner.

Her parents had reserved two rooms, as usual. Going into the second room with Whitney, Megan threw her suitcase on the bed. She studied the view outside. Traffic paused in the busy intersection below.

“Tell me what happened.”

She turned around at the sound of her father’s voice. He must be on the phone.

“What’s going on?” Whitney asked, pulling out a dog-eared paperback.

“I don’t know.” Megan tossed her a remote control. “Find us a movie, will you? I’ll see what’s up.” Leaving Whitney, she crossed into the other room.

Mr. Reynolds stood at the desk by the wall, pacing in a small circle. “Uh-huh. Okay. Fingerprints? Okay. I’m in Idaho Falls. I’m about to meet with their families. Sure. What’s his number?” He jotted a number down on the hotel notepad. “I’ll call you before the night’s over.”

“What is it?” Megan asked, fingering the bedspread nearest her. Spencer lounged on the other, body facing the TV, but eyes on his father.

Mr. Reynolds took a sip of water and cleared his throat. Megan held her breath. That meant he was about to spill the news. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Yesterday the girls were packing up and preparing to leave Ohio. The plan was for all three of them to be reassigned to different safe houses. They left the safe house with Crystal Florence. They never arrived at the rendezvous.”

“What happened to Florence?” Spencer asked.

“The FBI is searching for the woman now. A McDonald’s security camera appears to have caught them on film. They get no response from Florence’s cell phone or home phone. Her apartment is empty, and there’s no sign of her two-year-old daughter, either. They found her car abandoned by a railroad track.”

Spencer spoke up. “Do you think she kidnapped them, Dad?”

“Do
I
think so? Well, I never met the woman.” His eyes went to the notepad in his hand. “Detective Hamilton is back on the case. He did an exceptional job putting puzzle pieces together before the FBI took over. I’ll call him and try to meet with him tonight.” He looked back up. “Since I’m here, it’s been assigned to me to break it to the families. I know the plan was for all of us to meet them, but I think it’s better if I go alone.”

“I want to go,” Megan piped up. She needed to go. She knew the girls.

“Why should Megan get to go?” Spencer raised an eyebrow at her.

“Because I got to know the girls. I’m awesome.”

“I think I got pretty close to them also.”

That elicited a chuckle from Mrs. Reynolds. “You certainly tried, anyway.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Megan can come,” Mr. Reynolds decided. “She can probably feed the parents more information than I can. Megan, be mature.”

“Dad.” She stuck her tongue out at her father. “I’m eighteen now. I’m always mature.”

“Yeah, you proved that,” Spencer chortled.

“You’ve got ten minutes, Megan. Get ready to go.”

Mrs. Yadle, Sara’s adopted mother, greeted them at the door with a smile. But she took one look at Mr. Reynolds’s face and the smile died on her lips. “What is it?”

“Mrs. Yadle.” He reached a hand out and gripped her shoulder. “The girls are missing.”

It was a good thing her father had a hand on her, or Mrs. Yadle would have collapsed. Her howling brought her husband running and it took both men to move the heavy-set woman to the white sofa in the living room.

“They’ll be killed this time,” she sobbed. “I know it. I know it.”

Mr. Reynolds’ phone rang. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, moving to the kitchen. “It’s the detective assigned to the case.”

When he returned, Mrs. Yadle asked, “Any news? Leads? Did they find them?”

“They haven’t been found,” Mr. Reynolds replied, tapping his phone against his thigh. “I’ll know more after I meet with Detective Hamilton tonight. Anything I can tell you, I will.”

They stayed half an hour, making sure Mr. Yadle had the situation under control before Mr. Reynolds escorted Megan out to the car.

“Well.” He passed a hand over his eyes. “That went well.”

“Really?” Megan glanced askance at him and buckled her seatbelt.

He chuckled. “Oh, yes.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Mrs. Murphy? Agent Reynolds here, from the FBI. Are you at home? I’ll be there in ten minutes. No, tonight’s better for me. Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way.”

Megan stared out at the road, lit only by car headlights. “What was that about?”

“I don’t think she wanted me to come over.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should stay in the car for this one.”

It was true that she had not done a lot of good at the last house. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

They pulled up to the large Victorian-style house. The first thing Megan noticed was the For Sale sign decorating the lawn. She looked at her father.

He shrugged. “I didn’t know about it.”

Mrs. Murphy greeted them at the door, giving them a smile that looked like a grimace. “Sorry.” She reached up and smoothed her wavy blond hair. “We expected your family tomorrow.” She led them into the sitting room, and then shouted up the stairs, “Jacob! The FBI agent is here!”

The man appeared at the top of the stairwell, looking disheveled with red stubble on his face and his white shirt partly untucked.

“Hello.” He got to the bottom of the stairs and held out a hand. “Jacob Murphy.”

“Agent Reynolds.”

They shook hands, and Mr. Murphy gestured to the couch. “Won’t you sit down, honey?” He glared at his wife.

She ignored him, lifting her chin to give Mr. Reynolds a sassy smile. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No.” He rubbed his eye. “Please, sit down. I have some important news.”

His serious demeanor finally sunk in, and Mrs. Murphy’s smile vanished. She sank onto the couch, pulling a throw pillow into her lap.

“What is it?” Mr. Murphy asked.

“The girls have disappeared again.”

Mrs. Murphy shot to her feet. “What?”

Mr. Reynolds held a hand out. “Please, be calm. It’s only been a few hours, and the FBI is searching for them.”

“Be calm?” Her hands clenched into fists, veins popping out on her neck. “That’s my baby out there!”

“Sit, woman!” Mr. Murphy bellowed. “Let the poor man speak!”

She spun around. “Shut up. Actually, go play solitaire on your laptop. That’s what you do all day, anyway!”

Mr. Reynolds turned to Megan. “Megan, wait outside.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She hurried away.

It seemed like they screamed forever. Megan tried not to listen, but she didn’t want to wander away from the porch. She was a bit jumpier than she used to be, and the shadows in the driveway frightened her.

Finally her father emerged, looking tired and drained.

“That did not go well,” he sighed.

She followed him to the car. “From seductress to executioner, huh?”

“Huh.” His lip quirked upward. “You saw that?”

“How could anyone miss it?”

They drifted into silence in the car. Two down, one to go. Megan wished she hadn’t come. What good had she accomplished? She felt more discouraged than ever.

Mrs. Rivera greeted them before they shut the car doors. She must’ve heard the car drive over the gravel. “Can I help you?” Her words came out with a slight Spanish accent.

“Mrs. Rivera.” Mr. Reynolds held out a hand. “I’m Dave Reynolds, FBI. We spoke a few days ago. You didn’t expect us until tomorrow. I tried to call, but no one answered.”

She smiled, emphasizing the strong jaw line and wide cheekbones. “Well, hello! Come in! The wind is blowing. It will get chilly.”

A young boy sat glued to the television set, playing an interactive DVD. The other two houses had been devoid of children, and Megan had forgotten that Jaci had a brother. Two brothers. Where was the other one?

“This is César.” Mrs. Rivera gestured to the child. She leaned over the banister on the staircase and called upstairs. “Seth! Mr. Reynolds is here from the FBI!”

“Coming.”

Megan caught her breath as Seth appeared. His cropped, wavy black hair and deep brown eyes had her full attention. His eyes were so similar to his mother’s, but simmering with something dark and angry.

He glanced at Megan and she looked away, face burning. He’d caught her staring. She smoothed her green turtleneck. She must look like a grade-school kid. Her eyes lifted, unable to peel themselves from Seth for long. She followed him into the living room, watching the back of his neck from a safe distance.

“Hi, I didn’t think you were coming over until tomorrow.” His English came out perfect and crisp. He offered his hand to her father.

“We weren’t.” Mr. Reynolds shook his hand. “That’s my daughter, Megan.”

Megan flashed a smile when he turned. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He jerked his head in greeting and swiveled back to her father. “So why did you come by early?”

Megan exhaled. He hadn’t even noticed her.

Mr. Reynolds looked at Mrs. Rivera. “The girls are missing.”

“No,” she breathed. Her olive skin paled.

César looked up from his game. “I thought Jaci was found!”

Seth tightened his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain.” The darkness in his eyes sizzled.

“Earlier today she and her friends were being moved to a safer location. The driver never got them to the rendezvous. The car has been located, but not the girls.”

“I thought you were going to protect them!”

“Seth,” Mrs. Rivera said. Her fingers clutched at the sofa, eyes wide.

“We’ll find them, son,” Mr. Reynolds said.

“I’m not your son!” Seth’s voice came out with so much rage that Megan shuddered. “How can we trust you? For all we know, you’re in on it! How do we even know that Jaci was found in the first place?”

“We found them. I saw her.” Megan didn’t know where she found the courage to talk, in the midst of his angry tirade.

He turned his eyes on her. Megan faltered, twisting her fingers around each other. “She stayed with us.”

Seth dropped his head and stumbled over to the couch. His mother caught him. He clutched her, his body stiff.

Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat. “I hate to cut this short, but I have an appointment in twenty minutes with the detective on the case. Do you have any further information about Mr. Rivera?”

Mrs. Rivera shook her head. “Nothing new.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Mr. Reynolds moved to the front door. Megan moved into step behind him.

“Hey, wait.”

She stopped at Seth’s voice.

“Yes?” Mr. Reynolds asked.

“Would it be all right if your daughter stayed? I want to ask her some questions about Jaci.” He met her eyes as he approached. “If that’s okay.”

“Megan?” her father asked.

Megan nodded, trying to conceal her glee. “Sure. Of course.”

“I’ll be back when I finish with the detective.”

“Okay.”