No One Heard Her Scream (29 page)

"Sounds like Cavanaugh has been playing this whole thing real smart." Her voice cracked.

Brogan looked up and smiled at her. "Yeah, that's what I said before. He's a real smart man. Knows a good thing when he sees it."

"Knows to steer clear of a disaster you mean." Becca set her jaw, watching the look of surprise on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Brogan let Dani go.

"Sounds like Cavanaugh is playing both ends against the middle. He's keeping this thriving enterprise going with you, but washing his hands of it in case the cops knock at his door. I'd say that's a real smart move." She took a gamble Cavanaugh hadn't set foot in this dump. And by the look on Brogan's face, she'd guessed right.

"It's not like that," he argued. "I'm runnin' the show here, but he wouldn't leave me hangin'. I know too much."

"Exactly." She nodded. She had planted the seed of Cavanaugh's betrayal. Now she would test the waters with another approach. "Earlier, you told me an old friend gave you the connection between me and Danielle. I got a pretty good idea who told you. Only she's not much of a friend."

Brogan snapped his head in Becca's direction, seething but curious. "Humor me. Tell me what you think you know."

"More like
who
I know, Sonja Garza," she said. Recognition flashed across Brogan's face. "In fact, I've met with her on more than one occasion. And she loves talking about you."

"You're lying. Sonja told me she saw you once. And she came to me right after. We met at some roach coach motel off Guadalupe Street. And we did a hell of a lot more than talk. That bitch knows better than to lie to me."

"Maybe she hasn't told you about our little meeting tonight." Becca definitely had his attention now. "She told me about you raping her at the pool house years ago. And about you buying your girlfriend Isabel Marquez an expensive gold necklace back then."

Brogan grimaced, then started to laugh. His intense curiosity vanished.
What the hell had just happened?

"You don't know jack shit. Sonja always wanted a piece of me. I never had to rape her to get it neither. And I don't know nothin' 'bout that other girl . . . what's her name. Sonja knew her, not me."

"But you got Isabel the necklace, the heart with diamonds on it. Sonja said so." Becca tried to recapture the moment, but she'd lost Brogan. She tugged harder at the duct tape, panic setting in. She couldn't budge it. "I met with her tonight in the Cielo Vista cinema parking lot. She said you might've killed Isabel seven years ago."

"You got some imagination, lady. But you don't have all the facts. One of my guys tailed you to that theater, but he got spooked and took off when you turned the tables on him. So that much might be true." His voice low and threatening; Brogan was ready to blow. "But Sonja knows I'd kill her if she told lies about me. Hell, I'm not taking credit for that dead bitch. Sonja knows what happened. And buying some bimbo an expensive necklace is not my thing. I get plenty of the
Big O
right here. And what my bitches don't gimme, I take. I don't need to pay for it with jewelry. Shit."

He wasn't buying any of her story. Brogan's face knotted in a sneer. "You're playing me for some kinda fool. But I got a better idea. From here on out, every time you open your fuckin' mouth, I'm gonna cut off a piece of your sister and feed it to you. Now let me see what kind of a rise I can get out of
you."

Brogan fondled Danielle's breasts and squeezed too tight. She cried out in pain, but the sound of her cry only fueled his lust. He lowered his lips to her nipple, sucking and biting until her sister couldn't stand it any more.

"Please . . . don't," Dani wailed.

Seconds bled into hours for Becca as she struggled against her restraints, helpless and unable to speak. But when she looked up, something caught her eye. Danielle had turned her head toward Becca, even as Brogan fed on her fear. New tears streaked her rawboned face, but Becca saw something more. In a show of submission, Dani collapsed under Brogan's weight, submitting to his degradation one final time. And with her surrender, she fixed her precious eyes on Becca—eyes brimming with all the love she held in her heart.

Her baby sister mouthed the words—
I love you
— in silence. Danielle knew she would die. And Becca could only watch it happen.

Diego recognized the seedy neighborhood, making him more anxious. Sometime back, he and Draper had raided an old textile factory nearby, thinking Cavanaugh had his girls stashed in it. At the time, he believed it to be another waste of energy and manpower. Not so much now.

As their Mercedes pulled up to a loading ramp and a subterranean parking garage entrance, the driver hit a code into a keypad. The heavy door rattled as it lifted. With the noise and Cavanaugh's distraction, Diego peered out the rear window. He searched for any signs of Draper but saw nothing. If the fed had gotten his message, he should have stormed the garage with the door open like this.

Why hadn't Draper gotten his message, damn it?
There should have been enough time, but now things were looking bleak. It was probably too late. Cavanaugh had screwed him over with the FBI surveillance. The man switched cars, sending the higher-profile stretch limo on its way with two other passengers on board, no doubt with the FBI on its tail. And Cavanaugh had taken the less conspicuous Mercedes of Brogan's. They had planned it from the beginning.

When Diego saw the switch going down, he pretended it didn't matter. But inside, his brain struggled for another way to alert Draper.

As he slid into the backseat of the Mercedes, with Cavanaugh giving last-minute instructions to one of Brogan's men, Diego had palmed his small cell phone out of his pocket. He shot a quick glance to its display as he held it close to his thigh, away from Cavanaugh's sight. With the cell muted, Diego thumbed 9—1—1 and hit send without a sound. But as the call went through, he slid the phone into the seat pocket next to him. No time for him to pass on a direct message—too dangerous.

A dispatcher would get the call and have to respond, whether he remained on the line or not. And with the GPS feature the FBI had installed on the phone, someone would eventually contact Draper and track his exact location. It wasn't much of a plan, but he had run out of options, especially after one of Cavanaugh's men held him at gunpoint from the front seat at the switch site, demanding his .45-caliber Colt.

Now with no gun, the sheath of knives strapped to his leg was all he had left. Diego stared into the dismal shadows of the garage up ahead. He was about to enter one of Cavanaugh's strongholds.

"You surprise me, Diego." Cavanaugh's voice caught him off guard. He hadn't spoken since the switch. "You didn't ask one question about the switch in cars. Why is that?"

Before he answered, Diego remembered another phone call not so long ago. The recollection came to him not out of nostalgia, but from the harsh reality of his present situation. His "death wish" conversation with Cavanaugh. He didn't really know why he thought of it. Or perhaps he did.
One of these days, I might surprise you and grant your death wish, Diego,
the man had said. How prophetic, he thought.

Diego hadn't resisted at the switch site for one reason only. If he had a chance to discover the location of the missing girls, he had to take his shot—despite the odds. He knew he'd be outnumbered. And if this was his day to die, he would refuse to go quietly . . . or alone. He'd have his sights set on the man sitting next to him. Diego stared at Cavanaugh now, anger not part of the equation.

"Weren't we just talking about trust, Hunter?" In a deliberate move, he used the man's first name. After all, death made all men equal. "It seems one of us was listening . . . and the other scheming."

"I will miss our little chats, Diego." Cavanaugh smiled, a genuine show of humor in his eyes.

"So will I," Diego lied. He felt no such affection for the man.

Yet from here on out, subterfuge would no longer be necessary. Neither man would make the pretense of civility. Every remark would matter ... and every word would be the truth. The warehouse door rumbled closed behind them with such finality, it devoured the moonlight and belched its foul air. But worst of all, it robbed Diego of his life with Rebecca.

"How long are you gonna wait for Cavanaugh? Do the bodies have to pile up outside the door for you to reconsider this so-called strategy of yours?" Lieutenant Santiago had his hands on his hips and glared at Draper. The moon cast its light on half his face, the rest in shadow.

"Look, I've already had a long talk with your chief. He's doesn't like the situation, but. . ." Before Draper finished, his cell phone vibrated. He answered the call. "Draper. You better have good news."

Santiago watched his reaction with interest.

"We're outside the Cavanaugh estate. The limousine dropped two men off and split. What now?" The voice of Special Agent Russo.

"Did you get a good look at the men? Was it Hunter Cavanaugh and Diego Galvan?"

"We haven't been able to confirm that, sir." Embarrassment crept into Russo's tone. "It might've been them. We couldn't get closer with the security they have on the grounds and at the gate. But with binoculars, we might—"

Draper interrupted him. "I don't want you to risk getting spotted. Cavanaugh's men are armed, and they'd be within their rights to shoot first and ask questions later if you tried to infiltrate the place." He shut his eyes tight and heaved a sigh. The look on Santiago's face didn't help. "Stay at the estate and out of sight. Report any activity. Draper out."

After he ended the call, Santiago cocked his head to say, "What? Don't your men have x-ray vision, or was the limo made of lead?"

The lieutenant took his cheap shot, but Draper had it coming. "You've made your point."

"Not yet I haven't," the lieutenant insisted. "We still gotta figure out a way into that damned warehouse, one that won't get my detective and those girls killed if they're in there."

"My HRT Unit found a way in the main level, stealth mode, but the stairwells to the garage have been sealed off. A recent addition, by the way," he offered.

"Sealed off?" Santiago asked. "What kind of a renovation concept is that for a condemned building? If they've done work like that, it's likely Cavanaugh or Matt Brogan are behind it . . . and hunkered down below ground."

"That's what I was thinking." He nodded. "We'll have to blow the doors to gain access. Maybe first we'll need a little diversion out front to distract the bastards inside."

Santiago grinned. "Now you're talking, Draper. I haven't seen a problem yet that couldn't be solved with a little well-placed C-4."

"Remind me not to go hunting with you." His cell phone buzzed again. "Draper."

He listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his jaw dropped and eyes narrowed. Draper gave his instructions and ended the call.

"You're not gonna believe this." He fixed his eyes on Santiago. "Dispatch got a 9-1-1 call coming from a phone I gave Diego Galvan, my inside informant. No one on the line, but it's still open. The cell's got GPS tracking on it."

Santiago scrunched his face in question, not grasping if this was good news or bad.

"Dispatch tracked the signal to this location." Draper's heart ramped up a notch. "Galvan is inside that damned warehouse, sending up GPS flares. And I bet Cavanaugh is standing right next to him. This is going down . . . now."

Only a matter of time. Brogan had a knife at Danielle's throat. Becca's sister strained to avoid the blade, chin high and veins jutting from her neck. The bastard trailed the weapon down her body, hovering over major arteries. One deep slice, and she would bleed out in minutes. And Becca would be forced to watch it happen. He had stripped off most of Dani's clothing, leaving tattered remnants to hang from her limbs.

Now, the tip of his blade creased her sister's breast, so sharp it cut a thin white line that erupted in beads of blood and dribbled down her rib cage. Dani gasped and gritted her teeth against the pain.

Becca rocked and tugged against the duct tape holding her down, not caring if Brogan saw. Her eyes stung with tears, and bile stirred hot in her belly, making her nauseous again. All she wanted was to talk to her sister for the last time. To tell Dani all the things she had dreamt about saying if she had a second chance. But if she did, Brogan would make Danielle's death excruciating. She knew it. And the pain of that knowledge ripped her apart.

Brogan locked eyes on Becca and a slow sneer spread across his face. He was only getting started. She saw it in his eyes as he unzipped his pants.

Killing Danielle wasn't going to be enough.

"Such a despicable animal. I see you are well represented, Hunter. You should be very proud." A man's voice with a Hispanic accent came from deep in the shadows, accompanied by the heavy echo of footsteps.

Becca peered into the dark, looking for the man who dared to speak against Brogan. Although her face twisted with a rage from deep in her soul, she dared to hope someone would intervene for Dani's sake. Behind Becca and all around, people lurked in the shadows and whispered. She sensed a stirring of urgency. At her back, the weight of their eyes closed in. Even Brogan raised his ugly head and squinted into the murky shadows.

When the man with the mystery voice stepped into the light, a flood of emotion swept over her.
Diego . . . Oh my God!
Dressed in an elegant suit, he didn't belong to this squalid and depraved world. And seeing him reminded her that another life existed beyond this hell. The promise of a future.

But Diego wasn't alone. Hunter Cavanaugh stepped from the dark and stood at his side. The privileged man grimaced with obvious disdain as he looked around, repulsed by the world Brogan thrived in. The interruption diffused Brogan's fury, and he scrambled off the floor, zipping his pants up.

In an uncontrollable show of relief, Becca let her body go slack. She collapsed against her restraints, drained and exhausted.
Maybe the nightmare would be over.