“I couldn’t find it,” she whispers brokenly, sobs pulling from deep within.
Pulling her into my arms, I run my hands up and down her back, trying to offer a modicum of comfort. “Find what?” I ask, wondering what she meant.
“The key.”
Holding her tighter, I brush her hair back, half of it having escaped the ponytail earlier.
“He swallowed it,” she goes on in a small whisper. “I had to get Rachel out of the cage. But I couldn’t find the key.”
Her shoulders shake with the force of her sobs, hands curling around my neck, seeking relief from her grief.
That explains why he looks like that, I realize. She was trying to get the key to free her sister. Fuck me.
Scooping her into my arms, I race out of the house, knowing that the police could show up at any minute. I wouldn’t have minded burning that fucking house to the ground, but there’s no time. It’s been at least an hour since I blew that hole in the wall, and I’m honestly surprised that they aren’t here already.
Sitting her gently in the seat, I reach over, clipping her seat belt in before getting in myself. I peel out of there, thanking God that I got a 4x4, as I drive over the pine needle covered forest floor, before coming out onto the main road.
I make a quick stop at my cabin, leaving Rebecca in the Jeep as I throw my few possessions into a bag, before getting the fuck away from Flagstaff. I’m not sure where we’ll go just yet, but right now, I don’t want either of us anywhere near this place.
God will lead us to a safe place, of that I have no doubt.
Chapter 9
Special Agent
Susannah Gerhardt
Chicago
I’m standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office overlooking the Chicago skyline, enjoying a morning cup of coffee when one of my assistants, Jessica, knocks on my door.
Peeking her head in, she gives me a grin, her dark hair tossed into a messy bun and dark circles under her eyes.
“Twins keeping you up late again?” I ask with sympathy. I don’t have any children of my own, but would love to someday. And Jessica’s twin girls are just the cutest.
Pushing my door open, she comes in, collapsing in one of the spare chairs next to my desk. “Four in the morning, Susannah! Four! Why they think they have the right to be up so early is beyond me.” She quickly covers a wide yawn, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “Sorry.”
Laughing, I walk over to my desk, setting the mug down. “Don’t apologize. Kids are a lot of work. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. Just wanted to let you know that Agent Manning has requested a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. Are you free now, or should I clear a space later this morning in your calendar?”
Is it ever a good thing when the Executive Assistant Director of my unit wants a meeting? Not usually. Fuck.
I hope they haven’t found out about Tessa.
I’ve been helping to run the American side of an international sex trafficking ring investigation, working in conjunction with Interpol and Scotland Yard. The damn thing is like an octopus, with arms stretching worldwide. Once we get our fingers on one, another pops up in its place elsewhere. We’ve been working on it for a few years now, and unfortunately, haven’t managed to bring down the leaders.
Several weeks ago, I thought I had finally gotten a good lead. David Harrison, a relatively local man living just twenty minutes or so from Chicago, was identified as being a small part of the organization. He couldn't be located, however, and further investigation on my behalf led me to his niece, Tessa Harrison.
It became clear rather quickly that David had been sexually abusing her from a young age. Along with extensive abuse from her parents, Tessa hadn’t seen a lot of happiness in her young life. I couldn’t stop myself from shedding a tear or two when I was going over her medical files.
In my line of work, you see some of the most depraved, vile, inhuman things that some people do to one another. Often finding myself hardening my heart against it—you have to, for your own sanity—this time I let my heart do the talking, shutting down my brain’s rational warnings that it could come back to bite me in the ass.
When the people that were abusing her started turning up either dead or missing, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was taking out her abusers. And so I made a decision that I still war with myself over to this day.
Locating her in a combined coffee and bookstore, I let her know that we were on to her, giving her the warning she needed to flee the area. I have my own history, you see. One filled with terror and despair, heartbreak and injustice.
Was it right to let a killer go? No. But she was gaining the justice she deserved, one that I hope to get for myself one day.
