The Camp (18 page)

“Jane’s already hot. One of her girls made a phone call to the PI you dumped over the bridge. I thought she was going to melt the phone.”

Josh just shook his head and dialed.

In her office, Jane read the caller ID again. “What now?”

Josh looked at the half-eaten candy bar and wished he’d finished eating it before he made the call.

“It’s Josh. We discovered another intruder and locked her up, but loaded the other girls up in the van.” There was no dial tone, but he held the phone out and looked at it when Jane didn’t respond.

When he heard the tiny voice come out of the phone, he held it back up to his ear.

“Finally did something smart, huh? Put Cindy on.” He held out the phone for Cindy to take and jammed the rest of the candy bar in his mouth.

“Yeah.”

“I visited the girls in the barn and the older one is damaged goods. I’ll thank Billy for that later.”

Cindy cringed at the veiled threat and knew Jane would make good on it.

“Have Billy separate her from the others, tell him...” Jane paused, leaving Cindy wondering in the silence. “Tell him he can finish what he started, but he has to walk her back to the barn. The sheriff will meet him there and lead him to a place in the woods.
 

Give him enough time to get to the barn, then send Frank and Josh back there to kill the snoop they locked up. By now, the little bitch they threw in the hole earlier is dead. Instruct them to bury the bodies at the open sites. I’ll come pick them up on my way to the store in the chase van and escort you and the girls to Wolf Creek.”
 

Cindy watched Josh go into the restroom. “We’ll be one girl short.”
 

“Let’s hope the little Kung Fu bitch is still alive.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

She nodded at the phone then placed it back on its hook, startled that she’d just hung up on her boss.

Jane listened to the dial tone for only a second then slammed the receiver down, Layton released her hips and stepped back. The sheriff was in the corner, hitching up his pants. She straightened up from the foot of the bed and glared at Layton as she walked past him, naked. “Bastard.”

He threw her a kiss.

The sheriff walked over and reached for a breast, but she slapped his hand away.

“It’s a good thing one of us can keep it together.”

The two men looked at each other and smiled.

Layton walked up behind her. “C’mon, you like it as much as we do.” Placing a hand on her shoulder he spun her around, and she surprised him with a slap to the face so hard he staggered back.

She pulled a stack of clothes from the chest of drawers and carried them to the bathroom. Then turned to face her companions. “Twelve girls, just over a million dollars each and a new buyer. Billy may have fucked things up. We’ve had three intruders, one of whom was a PI. We need to deliver on time and make sure that when we return, this place isn’t swarming with cops. You two had better put on your thinking caps. And that means you especially…” She paused for effect. “
Sheriff
.”

Moments later when she stepped from the bathroom, both men finished conferring and turned to face her.

“We think maybe it’s time to leave Hiouchi rather than risk discovery,” Layton said, casually moving across the room.

“Is that what you think too, Elmore?”

The sheriff looked nervously from Layton and back to Jane, as if making up his mind. “No, I don’t. I think you’re making all the right decisions.”

She sauntered over in the sheriff’s direction.
 

“You do, do you?”

Elmore could feel drops of sweat run down his side as she approached.

She stopped a mere six inches away and began to play with his zipper. “So you approve of my decisions?”

“Yes.” Then more firmly while looking over at Layton. “Yes, I do.”

In one smooth motion, she removed the sheriff’s pistol from its holster, turned, shot Layton in the face, then pivoted around and handed the gun back, handle first. Instinctively, he took the grip, surprised when she stepped back.

“You’d better approve of my decisions and do what I say, you flaming asshole. Because you just shot the mayor of Agness.”

Elmore stared down at the gun in his hand.

“Your finger prints are all over your gun. You like my decisions—fine. Tonight bury the mayor’s body in one of the open graves in the boy’s camp.” She looked over at the expanding circle of blood around the mayor’s head. “Wrap him in the carpeting.”

The sheriff crossed the room to leave but turned around at the sound of his name. “What?”

She joined him at the door. “That Vietnam vet still camped out in the woods?” She gave a short sharp laugh. “Hoping to catch sight of his granddaughter?”

“Yeah. Want me to roust him?”

She leaned against the door jam, and gave the sheriff a playful finger poke in the stomach. “No, I’ve got a better idea.”

He stepped back, just out of range. She looked him in the eye and smirked, pumped her hand toward her mouth while bulging her cheek out with her tongue. “You like that don’t you?”

He was disgusted at the thought of sex with a woman he now considered a Black Widow. Would she shoot him when it suited her?

“No? Fine. Just keep in mind that there’s big money in this batch for you.”

He wondered if he’d live long enough to enjoy it. “What do you want me to do?”

“Billy’s bringing one of the girls he messed up, expects to meet you at the barn. Take him and his girl up to that guy’s camp, kill them both. Make it look like our veteran had a flashback, then call your detective friend in Grants Pass.”

The sheriff ran a hand through his hair. “What if he’s there?”

Jane never hesitated. “Kill him, too. Then make your call.”
 

Elmore moved into the hall, fingered his sheriff’s badge, and wondered how he got mixed up in this. Kill a vet? He didn’t know Joe Baker, but the man had a lot of friends who had made it back from Vietnam. He’d joined the sheriff’s department to dodge the draft, and now he just didn’t know if he could bring himself to kill Joe, if it came to it. He sauntered down the hall past the coffee machine and out of the administration building, in no hurry to meet Billy. Besides, Billy was walking the girl over from the store, so he’d have some time.

He unlocked the cruiser, climbed in behind the wheel, fastened his seat belt, but didn’t start the engine. He knew that the worst thing you could do was start empathizing with a prisoner. But Joe Baker was different. He knew his story, was already caught up. Caught between a rock and a hard place, more like it.

Joe’d lost a son to cancer, and his daughter-in-law had taken to the streets to pay the bills. Meanwhile, their daughter, Joe’s granddaughter, began to act out. Mother kept getting busted for solicitation, so the state put the daughter in Hiouchi. So, Joe Baker, Vietnam vet with a solid job as a contractor, petitions for custody. During his son’s hospitalization, while the mother had been letting the ball drop, Joe and his granddaughter got pretty tight. Elmore had heard that Joe owned property in the backwoods somewhere and began work on a house, with the hope of moving the girl in. Custody would go into effect when she left the camp. Elmore hung his head as he remembered, pretended to be looking at a report on a clipboard, in case Jane was watching.
 

He remembered the day, not quite six months ago, when Jane told him she’d called Baker and said that his granddaughter ran away. Elmore pinched the bridge of his nose. Not supposed to get emotionally entangled. Jane had warned him to expect trouble from the grandfather.

Baker didn’t believe she’d run away, came down to talk to the counselor. Made the mistake of calling first. That was when Jane instructed Elmore to head him off at Gold Beach.
 

Elmore flipped a couple of pages on the clipboard, still pretending that he was reading.
 

Joe was six foot two—looked to be maybe three hundred pounds judging from his belly—and had one of those hats a lot of vets wore. Gray hair peeked out from under it. The guy appeared to have gone to seed, probably from the combined stress of ‘Nam and then the loss of his granddaughter.
 

Their meeting was cordial. He’d contacted Baker ahead of time saying he’d escort him to the camp.
 

He cringed when he remembered how he explained that the camp administration had changed their mind, said that all Joe’d do if he were to visit was disrupt things. Elmore was surprised at Baker’s lack of response. Man just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

There had been a flurry of media stories, all speculating that the camp was holding Baker’s granddaughter hostage. The sheriff and Jane had actually held a joint press conference in Agness, during which he’d said that everything was being done to locate the runaway. Jane explained that the camp was home to troubled teens, many of whom had a history of running away.

Baker had no evidence, so no one listened to him and the news conference seemed to settle public concern.
 

Next thing he knew, a call came down the pike from a source at the state capital. Said that Baker took his case to a task force that focused on human trafficking cases, accused the camp of moving girls. In the long run, it turned out that there
was
no investigative body. But everyone—the FBI, the Justice Department, even the state—was willing and interested in prosecuting if only Baker could produce some evidence that they could act on. Somewhere along the line, it was suggested that he go public: television, radio, print. Dan Rather came to Portland—even
The Oregonian
got into the act—but nothing produced results, just stories. Then Baker vanished.
 

A few months later, Elmore had spotted a lean-to in the woods and when he checked it out, he found Baker’s hat lying around. Elmore started the cruiser. No, he’d kill Billy. The man was a monster and deserved to die. He’d kill the girl, too. Probably be doing her a favor. But he wouldn’t kill Baker.

Chapter Twenty-eight

When Rye could no longer hear tires on gravel or see the taillights, he peered over the edge of the roof, but not before he felt, rather than heard, a thump.

With the doors closed, only the moonlight streaming through the hole in the roof illuminated the room. Peering through the gap in the shingles, he called down.

“Claire?”
 

Shifting his head to allow more light to enter, he could just make out her face as she looked up.

“Don’t come down. There’s no way we’ll be able to climb out. You’ll have to come in through the door.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She looked up, puzzled by his words as his partial silhouette disappeared. Not sure what he had in mind, moved to the far side of the room and faced the door. Then she felt a subtle vibration through her shoulders where she was leaning against the wall.

Rye released his grip and began to slide, allowing his momentum to gather until he could reach out and grab onto a branch of the tree. Pain coursed up from his bloody and raw palms and fingers through his arms, but he couldn’t give in to it now.

Swinging around, he shinned down the tree, finally catching a branch that would allow him to drop just a few feet to the ground.

He landed hard, but shook it off and ran around to the front of the barn. He didn’t even look at the door, instead scouring the ground until he found a shoebox size rock.

Flat side down, he raised the rock high over head and slammed it against the lock. Again and again until the hasp, not the lock, pulled away from the wood.

Adrenaline flooding through his veins, he tossed the rock to one side and pulled the big barn door open, only to be faced with another one, this one a normal size. Judging from the hinges, it opened inwards. He could see space between the door and the jam. Several well-placed kicks just across from the dead bolt and it slammed open. Claire flew into his arms.

For just a moment, they stood together as one in an embrace. Rye spoke first. “Feel that?”

Claire took a step back.

The room where the girls had been held was in the center of the barn. Initially, when he entered, Rye had been in a hall, facing the door. Claire stepped to the right, entering the dark, tunnel-like hall. He followed, stopping every couple of feet. “There. Did you feel that?”

Her voice pierced the dark. “It’s just up here…”
 

Keeping one hand on the wall, he was moving as fast as possible to catch up until he ran into her.

“What is it?”

As one they dropped to their hands and knees, feeling their way across the floor, Rye now in the lead.

“Ouch.”

His sensitive palms detected a wood floor. “Dirt stops, wood continues…shit.”

“Claire stopped. “What?” She could hear scraping. “What is it?”

“Bricks.” More scraping. “There’s a stack…”

This time he felt the thump. His voice turned urgent. “C’mon, help me move ‘em.” His fingers had found a gap in the planking that made up the floor. “I think they’re covering some kind of hatch or something.”

“God, I can’t see a thing in here.” First she found his leg, traced it to his body and followed down his arms to his hands and the bricks.
 

“Can we push it?”

She came up until they were on hands and knees, side by side.

“On three, two, one.” She could feel his entire body tense and then heard the grinding of brick on brick, then a crash as the stack toppled over.

Claire had fallen forward when the bricks fell. “Let’s not do that again. I just scraped the hell out of my arms.”

“Yeah, my hands are turning to pulp.”

She puzzled over the comment.

They pulled the remaining bricks to the side and had finally cleared what they were sure was a hatch.

He took her hand and placed her fingers on a small space in the flooring. In that moment, as she ran her fingers along the gap, she thought she knew what it might be like to read brail.

Moving around the edge in total darkness, engrossed in following the space, they banged heads.