Save Me (15 page)

“The truth is out there, we just have to find it. Someone has the answers we’re looking for.”

“Probably Lawson,” Cara says.

“He’s going to die.”

Cara sighs and crosses her legs. “You can’t talk like that if you want me to take you to see him.”

Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the window. The sun feels good as its warmth radiates through.

“The other day you told me about Penny filing a police report. I want to go interview the officer who took it.”

When I look over at Cara, she’s on her phone—always working.

“He’s dead,” I reply coldly, and meet her gaze so she knows I’m not giving her the run around.

“How?”

“Massive heart attack.”

“Well shit,” Cara mumbles.

“Yup, my thoughts exactly. I thought maybe he gave Penny some direction on what to do, or gave her a number to call.”

When we pull into the Clarke’s, Cara and I immediately get into Nate’s car. Carole arranged for it to be picked up from base so Cara could drive it since technically she’s off duty.

Our first stop is my old house. Cara wants to look around; I really want to stay in the car, except I can’t.

“Here, you need this.” She hands me a badge, which has the name Duke Riggs on it. “It’ll be easier to get information.”

“Makes sense.” We both get out of the car and I find that I have to give myself a little pep as I walk up the steps. It may not be my name, but for right now it gives me an identity. Now I can’t screw up and give her the wrong name.

“Can I help you?” the small-framed woman asks us. She doesn’t look familiar and I don’t believe she’s the same woman who lived here six months ago.

Cara flashes her badge and the woman’s eyes go wide.

“I’m SA Hughes and this is SA Riggs. We’re with the FBI,” she says as the woman’s face pales. I guess I’d be shitting bricks if the FBI came knocking on my door, too.

“Ma’am, we have reason to believe that a crime took place in this house approximately six years ago. How long have you lived here?”

“Um …” She stalls before shrugging.

“You’re not sure how long you’ve lived here?”

She drops her head, giving it a slight shake. When she glances at us, fear is written all over her face.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Is there a reason for you to be?” Cara returns the question.

“Shit. Look, I’m not supposed to be here, okay? I met him at bar and his wife is out of town. Fuck,” she says as things start turning frantic.

“I see. Well, why don’t you go on home?”

She nods. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” She grabs her purse and bolts down the stairs without shutting the door. We wait until she’s down the street before stepping in.

“Well that was easy.” Cara pulls on some gloves, then hands me a matching pair. “Put these on before you touch anything. I don’t have to tell you how important it is that you put everything back in its place.”

“I know this is my house, but what am I looking for?”

Cara lifts the corner of a painting off the wall. “Anything that looks familiar, and also in places where you hid shit.”

I take off up the stairs, pulling my gloves on as I do. I had various hiding spots throughout the house for many things: money, guns, and passports. My job was dangerous, and the last thing I wanted was for people to show up at my front door and find anything untoward.

I pause at what would’ve been Claire’s room and rest my hand on the doorknob, but don’t enter. I’m not sure I can bring myself to go in there yet. Instead I go into the bathroom where the remnants from last night’s rendezvous are still present. This guy’s a fucking douche for cheating on his wife.

Getting down on my knees, I open the cabinet doors under the sink. Much to my surprise there’s only towels under there, making it easy for me to pull them out.

In the back corner there’s a small hole. Using the tip of a hairbrush I found on the counter, I lift up the piece of plywood and take a deep breath. When I look, I can’t contain my excitement and let out a, “Yeehaw.”

Sitting there nice and pretty, covered in a layer of dust is my Glock 19, along with the ammo that I need. I pick her up and use the towel that’s on the floor to clean her off. She hasn’t been fired in so long, I’ll have to take her to the gun range and if Cara lets me keep my new identification, I’ll be able to do just that.

Putting everything back the way I found it, I shake off the clump of dust and put that in the garbage. No one will check there for anything suspicious anyway.

Next, I go into what would’ve been mine and Penny’s bedroom and head right to the closet. My side was always the left, so I look on the right, where Penny kept her shoe rack. The rack in here looks like it’s the same, but it probably isn’t. I move the two boxes that are in the way of where I need to be and get back down on my knees. I pull at the carpet, but it doesn’t budge.

“Fuck,” I say. I continue to run my hands along the edge where the wall meets the carpet, but nothing comes lose.

“Does this look familiar?” Cara says from behind me. I turn to see a red box with a red ribbon. I gave this box to Penny for our first Christmas and she used it to put things she wanted to keep in there.

“Penny had a box like that,” I say as I reach for it. It’s not heavy, but there’s definitely stuff in there.

Taking a deep breath, I lift the lid and immediately fight back the onslaught of tears. Inside, staring back at me is a picture of Penny, Claire, and me days before I deployed. The next picture is just Claire along with most of the pile. When I get to the last one, there’s a face and it’s circled in red marker or crayon. When I flip it over, I almost lose the contents of my stomach at what I’m reading.

‘
If you’re finding this and I’m not here, this man is responsible. His name is Ted Lawson.’

Cara must see my turmoil because she takes the picture from me. “Lawson,” she says, and I nod. “Where’s this taken?”

“I took it. I remember the day. We were outside playing and this car pulled up. He got out and looked around. He watched us for a few minutes until I said something. He never answered and I snapped the picture. I took it to security to find out who he was, but no one remembered seeing him. I meant to follow up—”

“But you deployed?”

“Within twenty-four hours.”

“We need to find your wife.”

I look at Cara, a mixture of confusion and frustration running through my mind. “Lawson has people on the outside. They’re probably searching for her,” she says, increasing my anxiety.

The thought tears at my insides and I pray Penny has armed herself or is out of the country.

“Anything else in the box?”

I dig through some of the mementos she kept until my fingers touch a key ring. Smiling, I hold it up.

“It’s the key to my storage unit and motorcycle. I doubt it’s still there, but maybe the owner forwarded mail to her or something.”

“Most likely not, but let’s go find out.”

I put everything back in the box, including my gun, and take it with me. It’s a not clear sign of her whereabouts, but at least I know why Lawson came after me … us.

CARA SPEEDS DOWN THE road heading toward the storage unit where I kept my bike. It’s crazy that after being gone for so long, I remember everything. Nothing seems out of place or new as we traverse the city streets.

I’m hoping Penny continued storing my bike after I left, but considering how everything happened so fast my gut is telling me she didn’t have time. Now, more than ever, I want to get my hands on Frannie. I want to shake the truth out of her, torture her until she tells me everything. Where’s my family and our belongings, and more importantly, why? Why the fuck did she target the four of us, or was it just me and the others were part of the casualties?

“Is Lawson really that fucked up to go after my kid because I asked around?”

Cara shakes her head. “Remember Renato?”

“Unfortunately.”

“He had a list of buyers looking for specific children. Some blonde, some brunette, some with green eyes, and one of the most sought after feature was virginity.”

“Excuse me?” My stomach lurches at the ugliness of this situation. Thank God Archer killed that mother fucker when we had the chance. If we had captured him, I have no reason to believe he’d be behind bars. Someone bureaucratic bullshit would’ve had him walking out the front doors of justice. That’s what Capitol Hill money does—it makes problems go away.

Cara nods as she turns the corner. Down the street I can see the storage facility I’ve always used. Before we get there, she pulls over and types out a message on her phone. “I’m getting a warrant just in case they don’t want to talk to us.” Setting her phone back down, she turns toward me.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this because it’s classified and I know this is going to be hard to hear because your daughter was involved, but what your wife did, saved her life. Lawson was tasked with finding children for Renato. In exchange, Lawson got to live out his deranged fantasies. Abigail Chesley was not the first child he raped … there were many others, except we can’t pin those on him because they happened in Cuba. Renato wanted American children and Lawson promised to get them for him in exchange for money and drugs. We believe Lawson was also funneling drugs into the schools in Florida so he could use that as part of his campaign tactics. Even with him behind bars, his goons are making sure they keep up his handiwork. They’re harder to bust and our resources are thin on the case since we have Lawson in custody.

“The list Renato gave Lawson not only included the basic, but included ages and virginity status. Renato’s clients didn’t want kids off the street, they wanted what they called ‘untouched’ children. Some of the clients didn’t care about virginity because they were just interested in turning those children into sex slaves. Those people paid less. If Lawson delivered a less desirable child, he didn’t make as much money. Why he came after Claire, we don’t know. There isn’t a description on the lists that we have which matches hers.”

Cara’s words are hard to digest. The father in me wants to round all of these sick bastards up and kill them one by one. The SEAL in me feels the same way, but would torture them first, making sure they felt death knocking on their door. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to push the nausea in my stomach down.

“But she’s older now, was there a description of her six years ago?” The words barely tumble out of my mouth. Thinking of my baby, any baby for that matter, being on a list causes rage to build inside.

Cara shakes her head. “Not that we’ve found.”

“Then why come after Claire?”

“Easy target, especially if her dad is out of the picture.”

Cara maneuvers back into traffic and heads toward the storage facility. Every time I try to piece this all together, Frannie rears her ugly face in my thoughts. Everything ties to her, but I can’t figure out why. I was never meant to be a detective. Shit, even the trained detectives are having a hard time figuring this out.

“You know, if you guys hadn’t come back, we’d still be trying to piece this together.”

I don’t say anything because honestly there’s nothing left to say.

We park outside the gate and make our way to the front office, hoping someone is working today. Cara opens the door and walks in, with me right behind her. I recognize the man behind the desk; he’s a face I’m familiar with.