The Lost Girls

CHAPTER THIRTY

It was nearly midnight when Lucy sat on the edge of the exam table. She’d washed off the blood, and Noah had insisted a doctor check her out. She was fine, she’d said. But she was drained.

“We should go to the hotel,” Noah said.

“Where’s Nate?”

“He’s still with Villines at the house.”

“I should have stayed. Done my job.”

“You did your job, Lucy.”

“I fell apart.”

“I would have worried more if you didn’t. Lucy-no apologies. You did what had to be done and saved that little girl. The SWAT medic told the story to everyone, including the nurses. They’re calling her Lucia.”

The tears threatened again and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. She couldn’t do this, not now.

Noah sat down on the doctor’s stool and took her hands. “Hey, Luce, it’s over.”

“It’s not. I overheard you talking to Villines. Marisol wasn’t in the house.”

“We found the Honeycutts’ phone in a closet, and it’s clear someone had been restrained inside. I’m going to make a run at Zapelli and see what he can tell us. His lawyer is raising Cain about unlawful detention and false arrest and whatnot, so we’re probably going to have to cut him loose.”

“You can’t!”

“You think I want to? I’m fighting hard to make sure we can keep him here, but I may not have a choice. We pushed the boundaries on this case. I told you to push, you did everything right, but we have to remember that we have rules for a reason. We don’t have cause. But I’m going to run at him, see what he can give us. The AUSA is staying up all night to see if she can make a case against him. But it’ll be up to a judge in the morning as to whether we cut him loose.”

Sometimes, she hated the system.

“They killed her,” Lucy said. “They must have killed her.”

“There was no evidence that she died at that house.” His phone rang. “It’s Dean Hooper, I have to take it. Then I’ll take you to the hotel.” He kissed her forehead.

“Armstrong,” he answered. He listened for a full minute, then said, “Where is he? I’ll pick him up tonight.”

He listened again, then swore under his breath. “Are you sure? Did he flee because he knew we were going to uncover this?… Really? Last week?… I’ll talk to his wife… This isn’t a joke, is it? Yeah, I know, you don’t joke about serious shit. Okay, I’ll be there first thing in the morning. I need a couple hours’ sleep before I can make the drive back, it’s been a fucking long day.” He hung up.

“What happened?” Lucy asked. “Hooper found something?”

“Hooper found Jasmine’s legal name-Jasmine Flores-King. King was her married name and she still uses it. “Then he found the lawyer who set up all the shell corporations for her. Once we uncovered her legal name, he said it got a bit easier, but I still think the guy’s next to God when it comes to this stuff. Hooper knows what to look for and he found it.”

“That’s great. I need good news right now.”

“But get this, the lawyer left the country last week. Went down to Acapulco according to flight records. But his wife is in San Antonio, flew here on Monday from-get this-Acapulco. So we’ll talk to her, see if she knows what her husband is doing. If he fled the country to avoid prosecution or what. After the week we’ve had, I’m going to push her hard. No one is walking away from this bloodbath.”

As Noah spoke, Lucy’s stomach fell. She stared at him.

“Hey, do you need a doctor? You look pale. I’m sorry-I shouldn’t have dumped that on you tonight.”

“Spade,” she said.

Noah froze. “How did you know their name?”

“Sean. Sean was hired by his wife, Madison Spade, to go to Mexico and find her husband Carson and her son Jesse. She said they weren’t in Acapulco and she feared they’d been hurt or kidnapped. That’s why Sean and Kane went down there.”

“Has he found them? Does he know this guy is a fugitive?”

She nodded. “I haven’t spoken to Sean since…” When? Was it really this morning? “I talked to him briefly when we were at the property management office. Noon, I guess.” She rubbed her eyes. “He located them in Guadalajara and were working on an extraction plan. Sean suspected that Spade was laundering money after he dug around as Sean generally does… but he would have told me if he’d known it connected to my case.” She paused.

“What else?”

“I haven’t told Sean much about the case. We haven’t had much time to talk since he left.”

“Call him.”

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. It went straight to voice mail.

She sent him a text message.

Call me. It’s urgent.

She watched as the text started to send. Then her phone beeped back a message.

Text undeliverable.

Marisol woke up because she was cold. She shivered, tried to reach for a blanket, and couldn’t move her hands.

She opened her eyes, panicked, but saw nothing in the dark. She heard nothing. She tried to shift but tight bindings cut into her wrists and ankles. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Everything was so fuzzy. She remembered the car… the trunk… the fear.

The fear was still with her. The fear would never leave. Until she died.

No, dear God, I can’t die. I have to save Ana.

They would kill Ana because of her. Take her babies and kill her. A cry escaped her parched lips.

Where had Dobleman taken her? She squeezed her eyes closed, tried to remember… she’d been groggy when he opened the trunk. Had he drugged her? Was she sick from the exhaust? All she remembered was he carried her into a house. It was dark. The middle of the night. And silence.

Flashes returned, of the big man, of him touching her. Tying her up. She didn’t remember much. Her stomach was empty, her head spun, and she knew, right then, that she would be dead very soon. If not by the big man then out of thirst or hunger or the sick she felt.

Heavy footsteps crossed the ceiling above her and she whimpered.

Then they stopped.

Hope didn’t last long.

They crossed the floor again and she heard a lock turn.

No. No!

The creak of the stairs. Then blinding light.

She closed her eyes and turned her head.

“I knew you were awake. I’m so lucky they gave you to me to punish. I’m going to have so much fun.”