Corchran frowned. “En route. Who are you?”
“This is Susannah Vartanian, Daniel’s sister,” Luke said. “I’m Papadopoulos.”
“So where is Daniel Vartanian?” Corchran asked.
Luke pointed. “He went that way and he’s not answering his cell or his radio.”
Corchran’s brows bunched in obvious concern. “Who are these two?”
“The woman is Bailey Crighton,” Luke said. “The girl’s a Jane Doe. Both are unconscious. I have a chopper coming to airlift them to Atlanta. It’s possible whoever did this is still holed up wherever these two women escaped from.” He drew an uneasy breath. “And I think Daniel’s in trouble. Now that you’re here, I’m going after him.”
Corchran pointed to the two officers from the second squad car. “Officers Larkin and DeWitt. I have six more officers plus another ambulance on the way and reinforcements standing by. Larkin and DeWitt can stay and direct the incoming vehicles. I’m with you.”
“Agent Pete Haywood will be here soon. When he gets here, send him after us.” He nodded to Corchran. “Let’s do this.”
“Agent Papadopoulos, wait.” Susannah handed him his backup pistol. “I don’t need it anymore and you might.” She went back to putting pressure on the girl’s wound.
She’d been calm and courageous and level-headed. When he had a chance to breathe, Luke knew he’d be impressed as hell, once again. And he knew he’d be mentally replaying how she looked kneeling in the forest in her bra. But now he needed to focus. Daniel’s life could depend on it.
“If Bailey comes to, get her to tell any details she can. Number of men inside, doors, weapons she saw. Have Larkin radio us with anything, no matter how small.”
She didn’t look up. “All right.”
“Then let’s roll.”
They approached silently, Luke in his own car and Corchran following behind. He rounded a bend, and Luke’s heart simply froze. “Oh my God,” he whispered. Ambush. Frank Loomis had set Daniel up.
Luke was looking at a concrete bunker, at least a hundred feet long. Behind the bunker he could see the river. In front of the bunker were parked three cars. Two were Dutton squad cars. The third was Daniel’s sedan, its rear crashed up against one of the Dutton squad cars, which was parked across the road, blocking Daniel’s escape.
Both front doors of Daniel’s car stood open and Luke could see Daniel’s driver side window was streaked with blood. Quietly Luke approached, gun drawn, his heart thundering in his ears. He silently motioned Corchran to the passenger side.
Luke silently exhaled the breath he’d held. Daniel’s car was empty. Corchran leaned in the passenger side. “Blood,” he murmured, pointing to the dash. “Not a lot. And hair.” He picked up a few strands from the floorboard. It was long and brown.
“It’s Alex’s,” Luke said quietly, then saw the male body on the ground, about forty feet away. Running, he dropped to one knee next to the body. “It’s Frank Loomis.”
“Dutton’s sheriff.” Corchran looked pained. “He’s involved in all this, too?”
Luke pressed his fingers to Loomis’s throat. “He’s been blocking Daniel’s murder investigation all week. He’s dead. How long before your six guys get here?”
Corchran looked back to the three squad cars pulling around the bend. “Now.”
“Position them around the structure. Weapons on ready and secure cover. I’m going to check for available entrances and exits.” Luke started walking. The bunker was bigger than it looked from the front, an L-shaped offshoot pointing toward the river. There was a window at one end and a door at the other. The small window was too high for even a tall man to see through.
Then he heard the shot from the other side of the wall. He could hear voices, muffled and indistinct. “Corchran,” he hissed into his radio.
“I heard it,” Corchran said. “The second ambulance just pulled up in case we have casualties. I’m coming around the other side.”
Luke heard another shot from inside and started running. He met Corchran at the door. “I’ll take the top, you take the bottom.” He began to move, then jerked back. “Someone’s coming.”
Corchran backed around the corner, waiting. Luke crept away, keeping his eyes on the door. Then it opened and a woman emerged, covered in blood.
Ridgefield , Georgia , Friday, February 2, 4:00 p.m.
“Hurry.” Rocky shoved the last of the girls off the boat. “We don’t have all day.”
She ran her gaze over the five she’d gotten out, assessing their worth. Two were on the scrawny side. One was tall, blond, an athlete. She’d command top price. The other two were reliable performers when they were healthy. If she’d had to pick, at least she’d chosen well. The five girls were kneeling on the ground, pale. One of them had gotten sick all over herself in the hold and the others had turned their faces from her.
That was good. Camaraderie among the assets was bad. They’d had a few girls develop relationships and Rocky had nipped that in the bud. She’d had to sacrifice a top performer to do so, but having Becky beaten to death in view of the others had done the job. Becky had gotten a few of the girls to talk, and talking invariably led to escape planning and that would not be tolerated.
A horse trailer pulled up, white and nondescript, Bobby at the wheel. Rocky braced herself for the storm of temper she knew would erupt once Bobby did a head count.
Bobby got out of the van, eyes narrowed. “I thought you were bringing six. And where are Granville and Mansfield?”
She looked up, meeting Bobby’s cold blue eyes, her heart thundering in her ears. Still, the girls were listening and how she responded would impact how she’d be perceived in the future. Ninety percent of handling these kids was fear and psychological intimidation. They stayed because they were too terrified to leave.
So Rocky held her ground. “Let’s get the cargo loaded and then we’ll talk.”
Bobby stepped back. “Fine. Do it fast.”
Rocky herded the girls into the horse trailer quickly, ensuring their cuffs were fastened to the wall. She slapped a strip of duct tape over their mouths, just in case any of them got the bright idea to yell for help while they were stopped at a traffic light.
Jersey made no eye contact as he stacked the boxes on the hay. When he was finished, he turned to Bobby. “I’ll move whatever else you please. But no more kids.”
“Of course, Jersey,” Bobby said silkily. “I wouldn’t dream of making you feel uncomfortable in any way.” Which Rocky knew meant Bobby would now ask Jersey to move all their human cargo, blackmailing him with what he’d already done.
From the look on his face, Jersey knew it, too. “I mean it, Bobby.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve got granddaughters their age.”
“Then I recommend you keep them out of chat rooms,” Bobby said dryly. “You do of course realize all the other ‘stuff’ you move winds up in kids way younger than these?”
Jersey shook his head. “That’s voluntary. Anybody who pays for smack does it because they want it. This ain’t voluntary.”
Bobby’s smile was sarcastically indulgent. “You have a strange and faulty moral code, Jersey Jameson. You’ll be paid in the usual fashion. Now go.”
Bobby closed the trailer doors and Rocky knew her time was at hand. “Granville and Mansfield are still back there,” she said before Bobby could ask again. She braced herself, closing her eyes. “Along with the bodies of the girls Granville killed.”
There was silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Rocky opened her eyes and every ounce of her blood went cold. Bobby’s eyes were sharp and furious.
“I told you to make sure nothing remained.” The words were quietly uttered.