I nodded.
“We’ll be parked in two minutes,” Anchor said, twisting back around in his seat.
I stared out the window, but couldn’t focus on the houses and buildings out there. All I could see was Elizabeth. I felt like we were at the end of the road. Like we were going to finally see her. I still didn’t know what had happened all those years ago or who was responsible, but there was a calm settling over me. The car slowed and Kitting moved to the curb.
I was ready to get my daughter back.
FORTY-ONE
“We’re three blocks away,” Anchor said to Lauren as she settled into the front seat. “You see any reason to leave, do so. We’ll worry about catching up with you after we’ve recovered your daughter. Questions?”
Lauren shook her head.
He pushed a button next to her seat. “Give us just a minute in the trunk.”
He and Kitting headed in that direction and I lingered for a moment.
“You alright with this?” I asked.
“Just get her back, Joe,” she said, her voice drained, her eyes ringed with dark circles. “Get her back and I’ll be fine.”
I nodded and walked to the back of the car.
The floor panel was up, revealing a small arsenal that glistened in the afternoon sun.
“What are you most comfortable with?” Anchor asked.
I peered in closer and put my hands on a handgun that resembled the 9mm Beretta I’d carried as a cop. “This.”
Anchor lifted out a similar looking weapon and Kitting armed himself with something that looked to me like it was semi-automatic. He slung it over his shoulder and it disappeared inside his coat.
Anchor placed the gun at the small of his back and closed the trunk. He walked to the front of the car, spoke a few words to Lauren, then came back to us. “Let’s talk as we walk.”
We were in an industrial area, just outside of the dying residential neighborhoods, most of the warehouse parking lots eerily empty. Either empty or abandoned.
“You’re the one that needs to get to her,” Anchor said to me. “She won’t recognize myself or Ellis. So it’s going to have to be you that gets to her.”
I nodded, stepped over broken concrete and overgrown weeds.
“My guess is this isn’t terribly sophisticated,” Anchor continued. “Based on what we saw online, it’s a small building, not a whole lot of square footage. Maybe a holding or transfer area. Front and rear entrance, one story. Best case, we can go in with minimal fire and everyone walks out healthy.”
“And worst case?” I asked.
Anchor shrugged. “They don’t want worst case.”
We crossed the street in a faded crosswalk. The road was deserted and it reminded me of a post-apocalyptic scene. We could have been the only people on the planet at that moment. But I knew better. I knew Elizabeth was there. Within reach.
“Ellis will go in the back. You and I will take the front. Only goal is to get you to your daughter and then get out and back to the car,” Anchor said. “I’ll take care of communication with Ms. Tyler and direct her as to where to meet us.” He paused. “Any questions?”
“Nope,” Kitting said, staring straight ahead.
I shook my head.
We walked for another few minutes before Kitting peeled off and crossed to the other side of the street. We came to a four-way intersection and he disappeared down the side street, behind a single-story building looking like nothing more than a storage unit to me.
“That’s it,” Anchor said, nodding at the building Kitting disappeared behind. “Not crazy about that glass door.”
The front entrance was a single glass door, no writing or numbers on it.
“Let’s walk past, then come back,” Anchor said.
We walked past it, still on the opposite side of the street and it took everything I had in me to not stare at the building. When we were a block beyond, we crossed the street and headed back.
“Probably work best if you’re first in and I cover you,” Anchor said. “You okay with that?”
“Yeah.”
“Forgive me for saying this, Mr. Tyler,” he said. “I imagine it’s going to be emotional when you get to your daughter. But we should exit as quickly as possible.”
“I know. I’ll get her and we’ll go.”
He nodded.
I took several deep breaths, steadying my nerves and getting my head right. Anchor was right. I didn’t want to get in there and just break down completely when I saw her. There’d be time for breaking down later. I needed to get to her, secure her and get the hell out of there safely.
I took another deep breath as we sidestepped toward the building moving along the wall of the building, maybe thirty feet from the door. Anchor was right in behind me.
“Straight in?” I asked, pulling the gun from my waistband.
“Straight in,” he said. “Ellis will be in position and will move when he needs to.”
I took another breath and pressed up next to the building, the gun heavy in my hand. It had been a long time since I’d held a weapon, much less fired one. I tried to clear my head, to focus.
We paused at the door.
“Ready?” Anchor asked.
I nodded. “Ready.”
“I’ll follow you then,” he said. “On your mark.”
I pressed my ear to the wall, heard nothing.
Took another deep breath.
Reached for the rectangular metal handle on the door, cold to the touch.
“Go,” I said, yanking the door open.
FORTY-TWO
Two teenagers were sitting on a green sofa, staring at their phones.
I aimed at the one on the left. “Don’t move.”
Both sat there, frozen as we moved into the room. Anchor floated off to my left, his gun trained on the sofa.
“Who the fuck are you?” said the one on the left. He was eighteen or nineteen. Thin, Hispanic, shaved head, a gold crucifix dangling from his neck.
“Shut up,” I said. “Keep your mouth closed.”
“Room’s clear,” Anchor said.
“On the ground,” I said. “Both of you. Now.”
They looked at each other, then slowly moved to the floor, staring at us.
But not scared.
“Flat,” I said, as they both rested on their hands and knees.
They both flattened themselves to the floor.
I took a quick look around the room. It was an office area. The sofa they were on. A desk off to the left. A couple of generic metal cabinets. A clock on the wall near an empty bulletin board. An open doorway in the back left corner.
“Clear them,” Anchor said. “I’ve got the door.”
I patted down the one closest to me. He was thicker and younger than the one with the crucifix. I ran my hands over his flannel shirt and baggy jeans, checked his ankles near the top of his stark white sneakers. Removed a handgun from his waist and a knife from the ankle. I threw both on the sofa behind me.
“Clear,” I said.
I moved behind them to the one wearing the crucifix. As soon as I bent down to check him, he rolled and tried to back hand me. His hand caught my arm and I drove the butt of the gun into his head, just above his ear. His head fell to the floor, unconscious. I checked him the same way I had the first. I pulled a nearly identical handgun from his jeans and tossed it on the sofa with the others.
“Clear,” I said.
I stepped in front of them and squatted down next to the one who was awake. “A girl was brought here earlier. Where is she?”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“Take the door,” Anchor said quickly.
I stood and switched positions with him, covering the door at the back of the room.
“Spread your hands on the floor,” Anchor said to him. “Out in front of you.”
The guy hesitated, then did as he was told.
Anchor bent down, pressed the barrel of his gun into the center of the guy’s hand and covered his mouth with his free hand. “One more chance. You fail this one, I will put a hole right in your hand. Then I’ll do the other.” The guy squirmed as Anchor drove the gun harder into his hand. “We clear?”
The guy grimaced and managed a nod.
Anchor pulled his hand away from the guy’s mouth.
“In the back,” he said. “There’s a room at the back of the warehouse.”