Altercation (9 page)

T
he tall blond with creamy skin stepped out the front door of the narrow, redbrick apartment, looking from side to side. She turned around and locked both the deadbolt and the doorknob.

Carl understood her nervousness. Just a month ago the girl had been taken into police custody for “harboring criminals.” Luckily Carl had been around to get her out of jail.

“Hi, Natalie,” he greeted her as she ran over to his rental car. No buses or begging rides from the RCMP this time, though Carl hated driving in other countries.

“Hi.” Her lilting accent reminded him that English wasn’t her first language. She glanced behind her as she buckled her seatbelt.

“It’s okay.” He put the car into gear. “Nobody followed me. Local law is working with us this time. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

“I know.” Still, she clutched her handbag in her lap and stared straight ahead.

Carl felt bad for her. She’d been doing a good deed, helping three girls get away from their kidnapper and across the Canadian border. She probably didn’t help strangers anymore. “I really appreciate you taking me to the spot you found the girls.”

She pointed him onto the freeway. “Go west.”

“How’s Chris doing?” He hoped mentioning her boyfriend would relax her a bit.

She brightened. “Oh, he’s good! We’re engaged.” She flashed her hand at him, showing off a large diamond ring.

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Here, take this exit.”

Carl turned off the freeway, noting the country road they traveled on. It narrowed down to two lanes, one each way, and the twists and turns forced him to slow down. “You sped out of here?”

“Yes. In Chris’ car.”

They headed further into the country. Natalie sat up taller and narrowed her eyes, scanning the left side of the road. Carl hoped she’d be able to find it. The foliage and greenery all looked the same to him.

“I think that’s it . . .” She tapped her finger on her chin.

Carl did a U-turn and pulled over. The asphalt dipped down into a slight ditch. Dead vegetation covered the area, but he could imagine the tall grasses that were there a month ago.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure this is it. They were in the grass, hiding. I didn’t see them until one of them—the dark-haired girl—jumped out at me.”

“And then what?” It never hurt to hear the story again.

“My car had a flat tire. She offered to change it for me if I gave them a ride into town. A van came from that direction.” She pointed the way they had been heading. “It stopped there. A man got out, called to them. The girls hurried in and I drove off.”

“No one pursued?”

“I don’t know. If they did, they didn’t catch us. But the men must have gotten the plate number. They traced the car to Chris and went to his house.”

Carl nodded, fingers itching with anticipation. This gave him something. Jaci had said they came down a mountain. Where he and Natalie stood was the downside of a slope. The other lane bordered the upside. All he had to do was drive around and find the roads that went up the mountain. For a van to get up and down, it would have to be obvious and not too steep.

“Natalie, you’ve been great. Let me take you home.”

Carl came back two hours later with a full police escort. They fanned out behind him, making it impossible for anyone to get by on the road.

Three miles from where Natalie had picked up the girls, he found a gravel drive with a chain-link fence on either side. His heart pounded. This matched the description.

Five police cars trailed him up. Though he couldn’t see the sixth one, he knew it sat in an obscure place to watch in case someone showed up.

He checked the odometer. It had only been four miles, but on gravel at a snail’s pace, that took almost twenty minutes. Finally, he rounded a bend and a white plantation house appeared on a concrete bed.

Even from this distance, Carl could tell the house wasn’t occupied. The opened front door hung askew. The automatic garage door lay in a crumpled heap, the bare garage gaping for all to see. Huge holes riddled the four-story building.

He parked and got out of the car. Several of the officers climbed out as well. He glanced at them, his triumph tinged with a bitter disappointment. He wasn’t going to find The Hand here. “Well,” he sighed, “guess I’ll go look for clues.” He jogged up the decorative porch, trying to gather his optimism. If there’d been a fight, The Hand probably left in a hurry. He might not have cleaned up nicely enough.

A
ll right!” Agent Banks closed the door to the conference room and rubbed his hands together. “I know we’re here to discuss today’s schedule, but first I’ve got news for you.”

The six teens stared back at him without enthusiasm.

“Detective Hamilton found The Hand’s residence in Canada.”

Jaci gasped. “Thank heavens! When?”

“This morning.”

“Did he catch him?”

Banks shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Looks like The Hand cleared out. Hamilton found the attic you spoke of. He’ll dust for prints and vacuum for DNA, but he said it looks like the house went through a war. Parts of it have been blown away.”

“So where is he now? The Hand, I mean?” Sara asked.

“We don’t know. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get him.” He glanced around the table. “Now, to business. You know that Ricky and Neal are leaving.” He eyed the two boys. “We’ll drive you to the launch pad in two hours, and you’ll fly out via helicopter. We can’t tell you any more than that you’re going to New York.”

“What about my probation?” Ricky asked, rocking his chair back on its hind legs.

“We’ll work out a punishment for your indiscretions later.”

“This is ridiculous.” Sara stood, knocking her chair over. “We have the right to know! Those are my brothers!” She pointed to Neal and Ricky. “We should be together!” She ran to the door and slipped out.

Banks cleared his throat. “You’ve got two hours, boys. Be ready. Dismissed.”

Neal rubbed his forehead. “I guess we better get ready to go. We’ll be in our room.”

Ricky caught Jaci’s eye. “Check on Sara, will you?”

Jaci wrapped her arms around her torso, sick at the thought of not being near the boys. She hadn’t realized how safe she felt with them nearby. “Yeah.”

He stepped closer and touched her elbow. “You okay?”

Jaci shook her head and backed away. “Yeah.” She hurried out of the room and searched for Sara. She finally found her crying in the hall bathroom upstairs. “Sara? It’s me.” Jaci tried the door. Not locked.

Sara sat on the floor, one arm wrapped around the toilet bowl, the other holding her hair back. Tears fell freely down her splotchy face.

“Do you get sick when you’re upset?” Jaci turned on the warm water and wet a paper towel.

“I don’t know.” Sara took the paper towel, wiping her face. Then she dropped it and clutched the toilet bowl again, vomiting forcefully. She rested her head on the ledge, her sobs turning into quiet hiccups.

“Do you want to talk?” Jaci wiped down the toilet and threw the paper towels in the trash.

“No.”

Jaci sat next to Sara, rubbing her shoulders.

“They’re leaving soon,” Sara whispered.

“I know. But you’ll see them again. You’re their sister.”

“You never know,” Sara murmured.

Jaci hesitated. “Sara, nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Something bad
always
happens.”

Jaci could think of so many ways to dispute that. Many good things happened to them, not just bad. But Sara had borne the brunt of the unfortunate events. “Come on. Let’s wait in our room.”

The room wasn’t messy, but still, Jaci picked everything up off the floor. She turned on the sinks and wiped them down, then washed her face. She organized the toothbrushes and checked on their supply of toilet paper.

Finally, someone knocked on the door. Jaci stood all the shampoos up in the shower stall and stepped out of the bathroom.

Sara already had her arms around Ricky, sobbing.

Neal shot Jaci an alarmed look. “Has she been crying this whole time?”

“No. She stopped for about half an hour.”

Ricky pulled on Sara’s hair. “Hey. We got this. We’ll see you soon.”

“What if you don’t?” Her voice was muffled by his polo shirt.

“We will.” Ricky wrapped her up in a hug.

“Calm down, Sara,” Amanda said, throwing her an annoyed look. “Two months ago you didn’t even know they existed. You’ll be fine a little longer without them.”

Agent Banks stepped into the room. “All right, kids. Let’s move out. Car’s already in the garage.”

Sara clung to her brothers, and Jaci followed them up the stairs. Ricky pulled away from Sara and paused in the doorway, forcing everyone to bump into him as they passed. He kept his eyes on Jaci.

She could only hold his gaze for a moment before she looked down at the carpet. She didn’t trust her emotions. She kept her eyes down as she squished past him, aware of how his shoulder brushed hers.

They trooped through the living room and kitchen. Banks opened the garage door. A tan Ford Escort sat inside, engine humming.

“Come on,” Banks said.

Jaci stepped into the garage at the same time as Amanda, but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back in. She whirled around and Ricky closed the garage door with one hand. He twisted the knob in the middle, locking it.

“What are you doing?” she said, shocked.

Ricky shoved his brown hair out of his face. “I just need a moment with you.” He pulled her closer. “You won’t forget me, will you?”

Jaci closed her eyes. The tears came now, forcing their way past her tightly shut eyelids. She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

Ricky’s breath warmed her ear and he kissed the side of her face.

The door knob rattled and she jumped away from him. Ricky scowled and locked the deadbolt.

She twisted her hands together, keeping her eyes on the door separating them from the others. “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

The deadbolt unlocked and Agent Banks poked his head in. “Out. Now.”

Jaci followed Ricky into the garage, nervous and tingly. She could feel the others watching them.

Banks clapped his hands. “All right, say your goodbyes and let’s go.”

Jaci didn’t move off the garage steps. She had said all the goodbyes she could handle.

Ricky grabbed Neal and gave him a fierce hug. “Goodbye, Neal! I’ll miss you!”

“Ha ha,” Neal smirked. He turned to Sara, who threw her arms around his neck in a death grip.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go!”

Jaci turned her face away from the scene, only looking up when the car doors banged shut. She searched the back windows, seeking Ricky.

The car backed out of the driveway and roared away.

T
he gun felt hot in Jaci’s hand. She pointed it again at the man in front of her. Claber. Hatred fueled her actions, and she pulled the trigger, aiming for his face. She shot him, and half of his head blew away, blood and skin splattering outward. He stumbled backward, and then swiveled up to glare at her.

But this time it wasn’t Claber. It was a police officer. His wound gaped, his good eye staring at her in confusion and bewilderment.

Behind her a woman screamed. Jaci turned.

The woman stood, two hands pressed to her cheeks. Her white dress billowed around her in the wind. “No!” Tears flowed from her face and she stared at Jaci like she was a monster. “No! Don’t hurt him!”

What had she done? Jaci dropped the gun and backed away. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!”

Jaci jerked awake from her dream. Her heart pounded and she inhaled through her mouth, trying to slow her breathing. She had the same dream at least once a week, with sometimes varying characters and incidents, but always a weapon and a man, the horror of knowing she’d hurt someone.

She held her breath at the sound of a footstep padding across the carpet. She blinked, adjusting to the sliver of light creeping in under the bedroom door. She saw a pink t-shirt stepping closer.

“Sara,” Jaci breathed.

The girl stopped, pausing at the foot of the bed. “Jaci? Did I wake you?”

“Yeah.”

Sara climbed into Jaci’s bed and snuggled next to her. “Tomorrow we leave this place,” she whispered. “We leave each other.”

“I know.” Fear pulled at Jaci. “What do you think’s going to happen to us?”

“Something bad.”

“Something bad happened once, Sara. It’s not like a consistent pattern.”

She shook her head, moving Jaci’s pillow. “No one ever listens to me.”

T
he second person Carl looked up when he got to Canada was the RCMP inspector who’d worked with him the last time he was in Montreal. Inspector Ancelin had been extremely helpful in tracking down Rachel and Natalie.

Carl’s hopes of finding The Hand had dissipated when they found the vacant house. Carl knew The Hand hadn’t stayed around Montreal. A sweep of the house revealed fingerprints and DNA samples everywhere. But no clues as to where he had gone. No notes hidden in bathroom mirrors. No invisible ink on the counters.

But maybe some of his former connections knew where he was.

“Detective.” Ancelin rose with a smile and shook Carl’s hand. “Please come in. I’m very pleased to hear from you.” Ancelin took a seat behind his desk. Today he was in normal dress clothes, not the ceremonial red coat that he’d been in the first time Carl met him.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Carl sat in the guest chair in front of Ancelin. “As I mentioned to you before I left Idaho, I’ve been put on the case to locate The Hand. I’m working in conjunction with the FBI, but they’re letting me do the leg work.”

Ancelin touched his fingertips together and gave a nod. “So there has been no sign of the girls?”

Carl blinked and kept his face stoic. He’d forgotten that even the RCMP didn’t know the girls had been found. He’d almost let that one slip. “We lost them in New York. Turns out some of our cops were playing dirty just like yours were.”

Ancelin grimaced. “How unfortunate.”

“Yes. That’s why I need to track down The Hand.”

“What have you found so far?”

“Other than his property, not much. As I’m sure you saw from the police report, he vacated it not too long ago. So. Do you have any leads?”

“He has his own file downstairs and all of the police interviews are in it. I searched on the name you gave me, Jeff Truman. He has used the alias before, but mostly in the United States.”

Ancelin and Carl went downstairs to another office. Ancelin unlocked a file cabinet built into the wall. He patted a drawer. “This is it. You have my permission to photocopy anything that might be of use.”

Carl grunted. If only all law enforcers were so readily agreeable. He opened the first folder and scanned the transcribed interview of a French police officer. He flipped to the next page. Another interview. Being a bilingual nation, everything was written in French with an English transcript. “Can I speak with these officers?”

“Of course.” Ancelin pointed to a hand-written address in the left hand corner. “Place of employment. If they give you any difficulties, refer them to me.” Ancelin gave a grim smile and left Carl to his research.

Carl pulled a table over and organized the files. He read each one carefully, putting aside the ones that he wanted to photocopy.

When the hum of voices quieted down and Carl’s stomach began to rumble, he glanced at his watch. Four-thirty. No wonder he was hungry. He had two more files left. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to interview the officers.