Furious (22 page)

T
HIRTY
-S
EVEN

The next morning, Faith, Beast, and Rage met at the command post in her parents’ backyard to see where things stood. “So far,” Faith said, “we’ve had no luck locating a tattoo artist named Fin. Tina, the girl I talked to on Watt, said she recognized one of the men in my painting as being ‘in the business,’ which tells me we might be on the right track.” She looked from Rage to Beast. “What else do we have?”

“I’ve got a name and a location of someone who may be involved in the sex trafficking business,” Beast said. “His name is Patrick and he works out of a liquor store. I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, but there has been no unusual activity.”

“What about the partial license number?” Faith asked.

“So far no match with that make and model.”

“Besides the fact that we didn’t have an entire number,” Rage chimed in, “these guys could have changed out the license plate, for all we know.”

“I think I’ll turn over the license number and blurry pictures to Detective Yuhasz. It can’t hurt.”

“We need to find ways to keep your story in front of the media,” Rage said.

“Yeah,” Beast said. “I say we keep the pressure on these guys . . . keep their faces in front of people.”

Jana walked in with a tray of bagels and cream cheese. Her brother’s four-year-old daughter, Dacotah, was at her side, looking around with curious eyes.

“Mom said you all need to eat something,” Jana announced.

Beast jumped up to help her and set the tray in the middle of the table.

“What are you doing with Dacotah?” Faith asked. “Are you looking after her today?”

Jana looked down at the little girl, all round-faced and dimpled-cheeked. “Bri and I are going to the mall to shop for a few items for the baby’s room. She’s in the house talking to Mom.”

Dacotah was a shy little girl, but that didn’t stop her from making a beeline for Beast, who had just returned to his seat on the couch they had brought in the other day. Dacotah only had eyes for Beast as she showed him her Barbie, which was in two pieces.

“Broken arm,” Beast said. “Want me to help you fix it?”

Dacotah nodded, then watched closely as Beast expertly twisted the plastic arm back into Barbie’s empty arm socket. “Good as new,” he said as he handed the doll back to her. She smiled and then climbed onto the couch and wriggled around so she was squished right up next to him, her legs sticking straight out.

“That’s odd,” Jana said, “considering she doesn’t warm to too many people.”

Chilly air rushed inside when the door opened and Bri stepped inside. “Have you seen—oh, my.” Without another word, Bri walked gingerly around the table in the center of the room, cautiously making her way to where her daughter stared up at Beast, clearly fascinated by the gentle giant.

“Um, come on, Dacotah.”

“Look! He fixed my doll, Mommy.”

Bri forced a tentative smile as she made eye contact with Beast, gesturing for her daughter to come along but keeping her distance at the same time, as if she were afraid he might reach out and take her hostage.

It was clear to Faith, judging by Beast’s demeanor, that Bri’s actions were something he’d dealt with many times before.

“Well, we should go,” Jana said before she looked at Faith, “but I wanted to let you know that we’re getting more and more tips every day. I sent at least a dozen calls on to Detective Yuhasz. Mrs. Perelman called again. She’s still having vivid dreams. She said she would call again if she had anything to report.” Jana paused. “Oh, and I did have two hang-up calls on the hotline this morning, which was unusual.” She shrugged.

Faith tried to keep a hopeful attitude. “Thanks for sifting through it all.”

Jana went to Faith and gave her a squeeze. “Not a problem. Hang in there.”

Faith sighed. She knew firsthand that all the hoping and wishing in the world couldn’t make it so.

Bri had a heck of a time getting Dacotah to leave Beast’s side. Finally Beast stood, towering over Bri. They both watched the little girl slip her hand into his as if they were communicating by osmosis. Beast proceeded to walk Dacotah back to the house, with Bri following behind and Jana waddling after them with a smile on her face.

When Beast returned a few minutes later, Faith was looking over the list of H&M clients for the dozenth time, hoping one of the names would leap off the page at her. She and Rage had hoped to find a client with notable wealth, but nobody on the list stood out. They had condensed the list to the wealthiest clients, which left a grand total of twelve people. A rapper who lived in a big house in Los Lagos, a dentist from Rocklin, and a couple of doctors in the Sacramento area. When Beast had arrived this morning, he’d said he’d put all dozen clients into his database and they all came out clean—no criminal record or any record of wrongdoing.

“Here’s an interesting e-mail,” Rage said. “You two need to take a look at this.”

Faith went to where Rage was sitting and hovered over her shoulder. Beast did the same.

“Someone is demanding a ransom for the return of Lara and Hudson,” she said. “They want fifty thousand dollars delivered to a particular spot within Placer County, not to be designated until right before drop-off.”

Beast grunted.

“No police,” Rage said as she continued reading.

“Is there an IP address?” Beast asked.

“Nope. Nothing. I checked. It’s a foreign IP address. Somebody is probably using some sort of proxy server or something.” There was a long pause before Rage said, “So, what do you guys think?”

“Send a message back asking for more information or proof that they have my kids,” Faith said.

Rage typed a quick reply, letting the sender know they received their e-mail and wanted proof. She hit “Send.”

Beast shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Faith asked. “There’s nothing to like about any of this, but at least it’s something.” Her heart beat fast against her ribs. She thought of Corrie Perelman and how unstable she seemed, but it wasn’t helping her calm down. Desperation, she realized, tended to highlight her emotions. Having her kids snatched away made every decision feel more urgent. There was no way she could let this go without checking it out. How would she sleep knowing she might have lost the one opportunity she had to find her kids?

Her mind was made up.

“More than likely it could be someone trying to cash in, or worse, it could be a trap.”

“You think someone really wants me dead?”

“Yeah,” Beast said. “I think that’s pretty obvious. The scar around your throat is proof of that. I’m sure whoever is behind the attack doesn’t like seeing you on TV every other day, either.”

Rage looked up from the screen. “Was the nail salon incident on the news?”

Beast nodded. “That’s how I knew what you two were up to yesterday. Faith’s image is all over the place. They showed clips of both of you leaving the police station. I’m sure whoever is in charge of these goons was thrilled to see that you had a hand in rescuing a few of their girls and shutting down one of their businesses all in a day’s work.”

“What about you?” Faith asked. “Where were you yesterday?”

His eyes glimmered. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just gathering information, and I’ll let you know if anything checks out.”

Ding. Ding.

Rage read the incoming e-mail out loud. “They doubled the ransom to one hundred thousand dollars. This will be their last correspondence. Faith is to drive to the Mark White Neighborhood Park in the city of Roseville on 504 Sixth Street. She’s to go alone and then sit at a park bench and wait for further instructions.”

Beast shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.”

Faith looked into Beast’s dark eyes. “I can’t just shrug it off, figure it all for a scam, and go on my merry way. What if the men who took my kids were just minions and have suddenly realized that they can make a few bucks? Not one of us knows the truth. What if they really do have my kids or they know of their whereabouts?” She looked at the clock and then at Rage. “How much time do I have?”

“You’re supposed to be at the Mark White Neighborhood Park in one hour with the cash.”

“Slow down,” Beast said. “Think about this for a moment.”

“There’s no time. I will not ignore their request. I have to check it out.”

“It’s too risky.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m going.” She peered into Beast’s eyes. “If it were your daughter, you would do the same.”

“Fine,” Beast said. “Then we’re going with you.”

Thirty minutes later Faith was in her Camry driving toward Old Roseville to Vernon and then making a left on Sixth Street. Trees lined the road, their branches dancing in the wind. She pulled to the side of the road and suddenly in her mind’s eye she saw Lara dancing, too, as Faith videotaped her. Her small arms raised above her head, swaying along with her body. Her crystal-blue eyes filled with joy. Faith reached out, too, extending her arm until her fingertips brushed against the windshield, the moment fading . . . gone, only trees. The knot in her throat traveled downward, like swallowing a jagged rock.

Had it really been only weeks ago that she’d held her children in her arms? Weeks that now felt like a lifetime—two lifetimes. Her insides twisted. “I will find our children, Craig, just as you would have done had you been the one to survive.” She inhaled. It should have been Craig sitting here now. He would have already found Lara and Hudson. He was strong and smart and always calm under fire. He would have had a plan and known what to do.

But he wasn’t there, which meant she was her children’s only hope.

The anger she’d felt since first coming out of that heavy fog of grief sat on her shoulders, poking and prodding. She’d never been an angry person. No road rage or simmering resentment had ever lurked within. She’d never understood angry people and the way they exploded like a volcano when they erupted . . . cruel words bubbling from their mouths, sending bits and pieces of wrath and pain into the air, affecting all those standing too close. In this very moment, though, she felt all their pain in one fell swoop.

“Are we there?” Rage asked from behind her seat.

“Yes,” Faith said.

“Where’s Beast?”

“He drove around to the other side. I’m going to the bench now.”

She climbed out of the car, inhaled the damp air as she walked to the trunk, and grabbed the duffel bag filled with cash. She shut the trunk. The wind had picked up, whistling in her ear. The ground was wet from recent rains, the air moist and cold against her skin. Reaching into her pocket, she gripped the pistol.

Was Beast right? Was this a trap?

She looked around, did her best to tamp down the fear, refusing to panic.
Stay calm. Keep walking. One step at a time.

The park was small, and it was empty—named after Officer Mark White, who was shot down while trying to apprehend an armed suspect inside the Roseville Police Station.
So much sadness in the world,
Faith thought. Her legs wobbled a bit as she walked across the grass. No sooner had she taken a seat on the bench than she thought she heard a noise. A loud crack sounded somewhere to her left.

The snapping of a tree branch? Or something else?

The wind and the shadows were playing tricks on her.

Crack.

There it was again. She jumped to her feet, pivoted toward the sound. As soon as she did, there was a thump, thump, thump behind her and then a hard tug on the strap of the duffel bag. She turned the other way.

BAM!

Something hard and solid hit her squarely in the forehead, sending her reeling backward. On her back, stretched out flat on the wet grass, her vision blurred as she watched two shadows run off, duffel bag swinging.

“That way!” she heard Rage yell.

Beast was right. She’d been set up. A sharp pain sliced through her head.

“Furious! Are you OK?”

Faith opened her eyes and found herself looking at Rage. Rage helped her sit up and then move a bloody mat of hair out of Faith’s eyes. “Crap,” Rage said. “The bump on your head is already the size of a Ping-Pong ball. You’re too stubborn for your own good. You should have listened to Beast. If you’re going to find your kids, Furious, you’re going to have to use some logic and”—she squeezed her fingers together—“a little bit of patience would also be nice.”

Faith touched her forehead and waited for the dizziness to pass. “I know. You’re right.”

“Look what I found,” Beast said as he headed their way. The duffel bag was strapped over his shoulder. In his right hand he held one skinny teenage boy by his shirt, holding him high enough from the ground that the kid struggled to find footing. The other boy was being dragged along on Beast’s left side, knees skidding across dirt and leaves.

“These two thought their ransom idea would be an easy way to make a few bucks,” Beast said.

Rage rose to her feet and plunked her hands on her hips.

“They think I should let them go,” he went on. “But I thought I’d let Furious decide.”

Feeling a little better, Faith pushed herself to her feet and took a couple of steps toward Beast so she could get a good look at the boys. The one on the left looked a few years older than the other boy. His hair was long and straggly. He had big ears and a bad case of acne.

“You think this is all a funny game?” Faith asked.

“We saw you on TV and then went to your website and saw that you were offering a reward.” He used his chin to gesture at the other boy. “It was his idea.”

“It was not!” the other boy cried. “I didn’t want to do it, but Matt told me it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Matt,” Faith said. “Did you hit me or did your friend?”

“I did, ma’am.”

“Shoot him,” Faith said, handing Rage her gun, hoping to scare the boys. “Twice. Once for hitting me and again for calling me ma’am.”

The kid made a squeaky noise as he squirmed and tried to get loose. He was scared now. His face paled. Beast had no problem keeping the boys firmly within his grasp. “What about his friend?”

“Kill them both.”

They started to cry, and Faith was glad for it. She wasn’t serious about having them killed. She took the pistol back and told Beast to do whatever he wanted with the boys.