Furious (6 page)

“Faith,” her brother said, his voice firm. “It’s OK. Take a breath.”

“The house was trashed, Colton. The man who grabbed me in the garage as I tried to get away asked me where it was.”

Bri’s mouth tightened into a grim line as she gestured toward her daughters. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this at the table.”

Kimberly’s eyes widened. “Did bad men take Lara and Hudson?”

Faith nodded. As she looked at Kimberly she felt a change within, a shift in her way of thinking, almost as if Craig was right there beside her, whispering into her ear, telling her to do whatever she must to bring their kids safely home. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” she said to Kimberly, “Aunt Faith is going to find your cousins and bring them home.”

Kimberly wiped her eyes. “Can we go find them right now?”

Her small, heart-shaped face and the way she angled her head reminded Faith so much of Lara. Seeing the hopeful look in her niece’s eyes caused her heart to swell. “I think that’s a very good idea.”

Kimberly’s little sister, Dacotah, whimpered.

“Faith. Please. Not in front of the children.” Bri stood and ushered her daughters away from the table and out of the room, but not before shooting her husband a glare.

“What were the men looking for?” Jana asked.

“I don’t know,” Faith said, her body trembling as that moment in the garage came back to her in a rush. “I begged him to let the kids go, let us all go, but as soon as I saw the expression on his face, the cold ruthlessness in his eyes, I knew there was a good chance we might die whether he found what he was looking for or not. I tried to get free, but he slammed me to the ground and everything went black.”

“This is all so crazy,” Jana said. “I feel as if we’re talking about a movie where the bad guys are looking for a tiny capsule filled with important information. What could they possibly have been looking for? It makes no sense. Had Craig been acting strange or different in the days before?”

Faith shook her head. “Whatever it was they were looking for, they didn’t find it. So why did they take my kids?”

Colton looked over his shoulder toward the living room to make sure his wife and kids were out of earshot. “Mom’s been keeping me updated, and I’ve also been doing some research of my own. My first thought was that these guys must have come to your house because they wanted something. And now you’re telling me that’s exactly right.” He sighed. “If they came to your house looking for something of value and then didn’t find whatever it was . . . then it’s possible they took the kids because they were worth something to them. I’ve been reading up on trafficking, and it appears that younger children bring in ridiculous amounts of money.”

Everyone at the table fell silent.

“Trafficking?” Faith asked, unable, perhaps even unwilling, to make sense of what that could mean for her children.

“Human trafficking,” Colton said. “It’s a billion-dollar business.”

Dad set his fork down. “Faith,” he said, his tone grim, “nobody’s asked for ransom. If they were going to kill them, they would have done it right there at the house. Maybe you should give some thought to what Colton is saying.”

Mom placed her napkin on the table, pushed her chair back, and left the room. She didn’t appear to be angry, merely disturbed by it all.

“Please tell me what you know about trafficking,” Faith told her brother. “If I’m going to find my kids, I need to know what I might be dealing with here.”

“Colton could be on to something,” Steve said. “I saw a documentary about this human trafficking business. They talked a lot about young children being a commodity. Traffickers are getting bolder these days, too. I read a story about two younger guys who met a girl in the mall, followed her home, and simply took her. These guys are fearless.”

Colton nodded. “People think human trafficking is confined to places like Thailand and Malaysia, but Sacramento is ranked number two for sex trafficking in the United States. Being in the trucking business I see way too much of it.” He used his fork to poke at the peas on his plate. “Most truckers think they’re paying for sex, but they’re paying for rape since pimps are the ones pocketing the money.”

Jana paled. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Steve pushed his chair back and helped Jana to her feet.

Faith watched them leave the room. There was no possible way she could allow herself to imagine either one of her children being sold for sex. The notion of anything so horrible wouldn’t compute. And yet she squeezed Colton’s arm and said, “I need a place to start, someone I can talk to.”

Colton rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No way. This isn’t the sort of thing you should be poking your nose into. Talk to Detective Yuhasz about it and see what he has to say.”

“Faith’s done enough talking,” Dad said. “It’s time for her to take matters into her own hands.”

Stunned, Colton looked from one to the other, shaking his head before he said, “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Dad, Colton, and Faith were the only people left at the table. Faith said, “Sorry about ruining Thanksgiving.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Dad said. “We need to find Lara and Hudson. That’s all that matters.”

N
INE

That same night, Faith stood outside her neighbor’s door and rang the bell. The last time she’d stood at Beth Tanner’s front door had been more than a year ago after Beth’s Chihuahua had escaped through a broken slat of wood in the fence surrounding her backyard. Lara and Hudson had begged Faith to let them play with the dog before they returned the animal to its owner, but so much of parenting was saying no.

Beth opened the door a few inches. With her dark hair cropped below the ears, she looked the same. She wore a matching set of pink velour loungewear and gray slip-on shoes.

“It’s me—your neighbor—Faith McMann. I was hoping we could talk.”

“You do realize it’s Thanksgiving?”

Although she hadn’t seen any cars parked out front, Faith nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. If you’re busy, I’ll come back another time.”

The expression on Beth’s face was hard to read as she opened the door fully and allowed her inside. The house had a nice, homey feel to it. The smell of pumpkin pie drifted through the air. Shadowed lights from the television bounced off the mirrored wall in the family room. The dog was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Prince?”

“He passed away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was fifteen. He had a good life.”

They stood there awkwardly.

“Can I get you some pie?”

“No, thanks.”

Beth gestured toward Faith’s throat. “It’s healing nicely.”

Faith brushed a fingertip over the scar and nodded, then followed Beth into the family room. Beth grabbed the remote and turned the television off before she took a seat and told Faith to do the same. “I was wondering when you would pay me a visit,” Beth said. “I figured it was only a matter of time.”

“You knew I would visit?”

“Besides coming to thank me for saving your life, yes. But I also figured you might have questions about what happened and what I saw that day.”

“Thank you,” Faith said, her voice quieter than she intended, “for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

“The doctors said you pinched an artery and that’s what kept me alive.”

Beth tipped her head in agreement. “Years ago, my only daughter was leaving a party when she was attacked. Multiple stab wounds. EMTs arrived in record time, but they were inexperienced and couldn’t save her. It was all too much for my husband. We divorced. I went back to school. I’ve been an ER nurse ever since. All those grueling hours in the ER came in handy when I found you.” She tapped her finger against the cushioned armchair. “I think that pie is calling my name.” She stood. “Sure you don’t want a piece?”

“No, thank you.”

Faith thought about telling Beth how sorry she was about the loss of her daughter, but when Beth returned with pie in hand, something stopped her from saying anything at all. Words just didn’t seem like enough. While Beth ate, Faith filled the silence by telling her neighbor everything she knew about the case thus far, which wasn’t much.

After Faith stopped talking, Beth put her plate to the side. Once again she pushed herself from her chair and left the room. This time when she returned, she handed Faith a large envelope. Inside were images of men she’d cut out from various magazines. There were also two sheets of paper, each with glossy cutouts glued to the paper. One was labeled “Suspect #1” and the other was labeled “Suspect #2.” The number one suspect was Caucasian. He had a square face framed by curly brown hair. Green eyes. Sharp nose. Thin lips. Number two suspect was olive-skinned. Dark hair cut close to his skull and even darker eyes set beneath thick bushy brows.

Images of the dark-eyed man came to her.
Kill them both. Make it quick.
Her fingers crumpled the edges of the envelope.

“Are you OK?”

She nodded.

Beth didn’t look convinced, but she filled the silence with her story of what she’d seen that day. “I’ve been collecting pictures of males I thought resembled the men I saw driving your husband’s car that day. I made the suspect sheets while it was all fresh in my mind, figuring you or the police might need more information.”

Faith was impressed and thankful. “Did you see my husband return home from work that day?”

“No. I had only been home for five minutes before I saw you and the kids arrive home. I had let Prince out and I was watering the plants out front when you drove by.”

“I remember.”

“Minutes after I turned off the water I heard your screams for help. I put the dog back in the house and went to grab my cell phone, but it took some time. Before I made it to the road, I saw your husband’s SUV speeding off. If they hadn’t been forced to slow down to make the sharp turn out of your driveway, I wouldn’t have seen their faces at all.”

“Did you see—”

“No. I didn’t see either of the kids. But the windows were tinted, and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Since you’re here, I’m assuming neither of them have been found.”

“No. Not yet.” Faith’s fingers brushed over the scar on her neck once again. “There were three men.”

“I only saw two,” Beth said.

“Do you think they saw you when they were leaving?”

She shrugged. “If they did, I’m not worried. I have a fondness for guns, and I keep a loaded pistol close at hand.”

The woman was full of surprises. Faith held up the envelope. “Mind if I keep this?”

“It’s all yours.”

They both stood. When they got to the door, Faith said, “There aren’t too many people who would or could have done what you did that day. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“You’ve got plenty enough to worry about. Just take care of yourself.”

“You, too,” Faith said.

“For what it’s worth,” Beth added, “I’ll be keeping a close eye on things around here.”

Faith thanked her, then gave her a well-meaning but awkward hug before heading for home. The door clicked shut behind her. Up ahead, two beams of sunlight squeezed their way between bloated gray clouds. Faith crossed the road and walked slowly down her driveway toward her house. She went to the area where she’d seen Craig’s GMC parked that day. She could still see exactly where the tires had broken a sprinkler head and destroyed the lawn. There was absolutely no way Craig would have driven onto the grass unless something had been wrong. Had he been trying to leave her a sign? Trying to let her know things were not right inside the McMann household?

A twinkle of metal caught her attention. The grass around the tire tracks had grown tall, but there was something there. She got down on her knees. Between blades of grass, half-buried in the soil, was a button. She picked it up, examined it. She couldn’t make out the design. It was dirty and tarnished. As she came to her feet, a thought struck her.
Why us? Why Lara and Hudson?

The question wasn’t a pitiful cry to heaven above, but merely speculation of what might have happened that day. The thought repeated itself.
Why would they take the kids?
If human traffickers were involved, where would she start? Who could she talk to?

It was too soon to rule any one thing or person out of the equation. Was Jana on to something? Had Craig been acting strange in the days leading up to the attack? He and his partner had started their own investment company, H&M Investments, eight years ago. Craig was an investment adviser. If anything he’d always run on the prudish side of things. Nothing made sense.

She looked at the broken sprinkler. Nobody had seen another car in the area.

Could those men have been in the car with Craig from the beginning? If so—why? He never would have brought them to the house if he’d thought there was any chance they might hurt his family. But what if they held a gun to his head? What then?

No sooner had the thought struck her than she felt a chill creep slowly up the back of her neck.

Somebody was watching her.

She stood perfectly still. A light breeze caused the branches of a giant oak to sway. The only sounds were the wind and the squawk of a bird in the distance.

Mr. Hawkins, the baker, lived in the house to her right. She couldn’t see anyone looking out the windows. The neighbors down the road were too far away to see her unless they stood at the edge of the road. Behind her house was an empty lot—twenty acres of dead grass and trees.

She slipped the button she’d found inside her pants pocket and turned slowly, looking out over the high weeds. She then climbed through the slats in the fence and made her way to Mr. Hawkins’s house. What if traffickers hadn’t taken the kids? What if Lara and Hudson were locked in a closet inside her neighbor’s house?

After knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell, Faith made her way around the side of the house and peeked inside the garage window. Mr. Hawkins’s car wasn’t there. Back at the front door, she lifted potted plants and examined every rock and decorative item looking for a key. A sheen of sweat covered her brow. As an afterthought, she lifted the rubber mat. There it was—the key—shiny and new. She picked it up and slid it into the keyhole. The door creaked open. “Anyone home?”

Something sounded in the other room, a light thump.

“Lara! Hudson!” She hurried down the hallway and found herself in the master bedroom in time to see a cat scramble under the bed. She got down on her hands and knees and looked under the bed.

It was just a cat.

Her heart pounded as she walked into the bathroom next and searched through tall cupboards and removed dirty clothes from a hamper until she could see all the way to the bottom of the wicker basket. She called out her kids’ names as she looked around.

She yanked open the shower curtain.

Empty.

Adrenaline soaring, she made her way through every room in the house. She opened cupboards and closet doors, even looked inside the washer and dryer. Standing in the center of the main living area, hands on hips, heart pumping fast, she looked around. And that’s when it hit her. She’d broken into Mr. Hawkins’s house. Was Mom right? Did she need help? Had she completely lost her mind?

The sound of a car door being shut got her moving again. She rushed to the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. Her fingers fumbled with the lock. It took her too long to realize a piece of wood had been used to prevent the door from opening.

Through the curtain over the front window, she saw Mr. Hawkins’s silhouette as he approached the entrance to his house.

She removed the wood. The door slid open at the same moment a key rattled at the front of the house. She took off and sprinted through the backyard, weaving around decorative bushes and fruit trees. At the fence, she squeezed her way back through the wood slats, then dropped to her knees when she saw Mr. Hawkins walk through the open slider. Crawling on all fours, she made her way across the field to the fence bordering her own property. Covered in mud and out of the breath, she made it back home.