Back AT You Page 12

  “They’re nothing but a bunch of cowardly fuckers, Mrs. T. I say we castrate all of them.”

  I couldn’t argue with any of that. We started the long trek back into the city.

  21

  Ivy

  Dark clouds had rolled in, and I wondered if it might rain. I stood in a bed of mulch near a vacant swing set in Navarro Park. The space was surrounded by evergreens. It felt very secluded for being in the city. I was alone, other than Cristina, who was perched in a live oak about thirty yards away.

  “You see anything?” I had an open phone line to her and had tucked my phone in my front shirt pocket.

  “A few people walking down the sidewalk,” she said. “I hope this guy shows up soon. Sitting in a tree is fucking brutal on my ass.”

  Cristina. Just as crass as always.

  “Once you see anyone heading into the park, put your phone on mute.”

  “Roger, that,” she said.

  I watched a flock of birds in a V formation fly overhead. It appeared they were trying to escape the pending bad weather. Maybe there was some symbolism there, since I was, once again, forging right ahead into what could be perceived as a dangerous situation.

  “Perceived,” I said out loud, mocking my own justification for acting as though I were about to meet with a real-estate agent.

  I wasn’t fond of parks—I’d once been kidnapped from one, and then later tortured. But in the daylight, I had less anxiety. And just knowing Cristina was close by gave me comfort. She had a specific purpose in my grand plan, but if something went awry, she could call Stan.

  Stan. Yep. I could see his face turning red once I told him what I’d done. But he should know that I wasn’t going to wait until he got approval from umpteen layers of management before putting together what they would call a sting operation. I just called it a method to figure out where Angel Bailey was. After that, I’d likely get Stan and his team to raid whatever location Baldwin had her stashed.

  If she was still alive. I hoped.

  “Quick walker headed your way. Carrying some type of grocery bag,” Cristina said.

  I casually turned and saw a man with a thin beard walking into the park. He slowed down, turning his head from side to side. He had to be looking for Jill.

  Without preamble, I padded out of the mulch and over to the bench where I sat down. I crossed my legs and began moving one up and down, my arms crossed. Anxiety was the vibe I was shooting for. It only took about thirty seconds before he approached me.

  “Hey, have you see another woman around here?”

  I peered up and saw the man I believed to be Baldwin, wearing jeans so baggy I wondered if he had an ass. He was slight of build, and I immediately thought he wasn’t just a dealer—he was also a user.

  “Nope,” I said, still kicking my leg as if it were being controlled by some unknown force.

  He glanced around the park again and then dropped his eyes back to me. I shimmied my shoulders—as if I were freezing. It was probably eighty degrees even under cloudy skies.

  He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, smacked one end against the palm of his hand, then slipped out a stick and lit it. He took his first drag, and smoke streamed out the side of his mouth. I’d heard it takes ten thousand hours to become an expert at anything. I felt certain this man was a master at smoking cigarettes.

  “You look like you could use a fix.” He cracked a smile across his weathered face, then blew more smoke out the other side of his mouth. A gust of wind sent it back my way. I also picked up a waft of something akin to tacos and BO. I tried not to retch.

  “It depends.”

  “Depends?” He laughed mockingly. “I know a junkie when I see one.”

  Or maybe a good actress. “Are you Bennie?”

  He stopped moving with his cigarette an inch from his mouth. “How do you know my name?”

  He’d just answered my question. A second later, I got the first visual of what Cristina was tasked with doing. He would soon find out what that was.

  I opened my mouth, about to take it to the next phase, when he grabbed my arm and shook it. “Jill sent you, didn’t she? That little bitch. She’s not paying me, is she?”

  “Take your hand off my arm.”

  He squeezed tighter, the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

  “I said, take your fucking paw off me.” My voice had steel behind it. Plan or no plan, I wasn’t fond of being held down. Another ghost from my past.

  “You’re lucky I don’t fuck you up. Then you can go show your black-and-blue face to Jill and let her see what’s in store for her. And if I’m in the right mood, I might do the same to that cute little girl of hers. What’s her name—Lila?”

  I bit my tongue. It was either that or lose my shit on this guy. That would blow everything, though, including my cover. I had to remain under control and not lose focus on the ultimate goal.

  I shifted my eyes to his chest for a quick second, where I saw the red beam. I turned my head and put my hand up to my left ear. I said, “I was just told by Shock One that if you don’t let go of my arm, he’s going to fire a forty-caliber bullet into the middle of your chest.”

  “Do what?” He jerked his head around. “There’s nobody else here except you and me.” It sounded like he was questioning his own assessment.

  “Look down at your chest.”

  He lowered his chin, then lifted his head and slowly removed his hand from my arm. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I could say something like, ‘Your worst fucking nightmare,’ but that would be too cliché. And I’m not sure you’d take it seriously.”

  I paused, crossed an ankle over my opposite knee. I’d transitioned from the poster child for extreme anxiety to Mrs. Cool.

  “What’s up with the sniper? Wait, are you working for one of my other clients from the north side? If so, I didn’t mean to threaten their kids. It was a joke. Ha-ha.” He showed me his yellow teeth. Again, I felt the urge to gag. However, I managed to stay the course.

  “You’re only partially right, Bennie. There is a sniper in the park—his code name is Shock One. But I have another one here too. He’s not a fan of laser lights on his targets. He uses his naked eye. His fellow soldiers in Afghanistan called him Awe One.”

  “What the hell is this? I didn’t do anything to deserve a hit on me. And you got two snipers here? This ain’t a fucking war zone, lady. You can’t just kill people for the fun of it.”

  I shifted my eyes to the swing set, where one of the seats swung slightly in the breeze. “Bennie, you need to tell me where Angel Bailey is.”

  I could hear his breath hitch. I flipped my sights back to him and glared into his red-rimmed eyes.

  “Who?” he asked, looking off into the sky.

  He was playing games, wasting time.

  “Bennie, I’m not screwing around. We know that Jill gave you her daughter under duress when she needed a fix and couldn’t pay off her drug debt. Where is Angel Bailey?”

  He shifted in his seat. I watched his eyes searching the grounds, most certainly looking for a way to get out of this alive. He didn’t know that he could simply get up and walk away. Perception was everything.

  “Just so you know, Bennie. The guys in this park are not hired hitmen.”

  He narrowed eyes.

  “They’re doing it as a favor. To Gerald Bailey. He served alongside Shock One and Awe One in Afghanistan.”

  “Shock and Awe,” he whispered.

  I nodded. “They’re close, Bennie. And they’d love to take you out.”

  He looked at his cigarette. “I’m going to wipe my face, okay? I just don’t want anyone getting trigger-happy.”

  “I’d move very slowly if I were you.”

  He did. When he finished, his skin seemed to have turned a gray color.

  “Just answer the question, Bennie, and you get to keep living your wonderful life. It’s actually pretty simple.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” />
  He put the palm of his hand against his eye. “Because I don’t have her. Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes searched the area and held up a hand. “Just tell your Shock and Awe guys to not shoot me, okay?”

  I was seething, and I knew he could sense my anger.

  “Jesus, lady, you’ve got to understand the situation I was in.”

  “What happened, Bennie?”

  “I’m sure she’s okay…” His voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t convince himself of the notion.

  I put my hand to my ear—as if I were listening to one of the snipers speaking to me. “Awe is asking if I can give him the green light to put a bullet through your kneecap.”

  “No, no, no…please, no!” He started wiggling like a kid sitting in church.

  “Stop moving, Bennie, or they will shoot without asking.”

  He put his hands over his kneecaps. Then he noticed his cigarette was about to burn his fingers, and he tossed it to the ground. But he quickly returned that hand to his kneecap.

  As if that would save his knees. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so pissed off.

  “Start talking, Bennie. Where is Angel?”

  “She’s not in San Antonio.”

  “I didn’t ask where she wasn’t. Where is she, and who has her?”

  “I think she’s up in Nevada.”

  “How did she get up there?”

  “Look, this whole drug thing is a messed-up business. It attracts the wrong kind of people, let me tell you.”

  He was talking as though he didn’t belong to that club. Whatever. I gestured with my hand for him to continue.

  “I had bills to pay, just like anyone else. I was a little short on cash, and when the piper came to pay my supplier, he said he’d take another form of payment. One that wouldn’t cost me a dime.”

  “You gave Angel to some stranger?”

  Wincing, he nodded ever so slightly, as if he were bracing himself for a bullet between the eyes.

  “Who…who did you give her to?”

  “If I tell you that, he’ll come after me and kill me.”

  I tilted my head. “If you don’t tell me, you won’t make it out of this park alive.” The ultimate bluff.

  “Okay, okay.” He put a palm up to his eye. “All I know is, he calls himself Cadillac, and he runs some bar outside of Vegas.”

  “He’s your fentanyl supplier?”

  He nodded.

  “Is this the first girl he’s taken?”

  He did something in between a shrug and a shake of the head. I took that as a “no.” Then he said, “You know prostitution is legal up there, right?”

  “She’s fifteen, Bennie. Fifteen years old!” I jumped up and backhanded him across the face. The edge of a fingernail caught flesh, and his face started to bleed. I could feel my chest surging with every breath. “You’re fucking scum!”

  “I know, I know.” He started to cry. “Please don’t kill me. Please…”

  I took in a deep breath. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this Cadillac person?”

  “Nothing.” He stopped crying, rubbed his face. “There’s a rumor going around that he occasionally will flip the girl…you know, like you would a house.”

  My eyes bugged out. “What?”

  “He gets a girl, then turns around and sells her.”

  Like she was some kind of product. I thought my head was going to explode. Angel might not even be in Vegas. She could be anywhere in the country, or the world. Who knew what this Cadillac person had done with her?

  I looked at Bennie. “You’re going to get up and walk out of this park. If I find out you’ve lied about anything, you’ll be getting a visit from Shock or Awe when you least expect it. They’ve hunted terrorists, Bennie. They’ll certainly be able to find your sorry ass, no matter where you try to hide. And if you ever threaten the Baileys again, you’re as good as dead. You got it, Bennie?”

  He nodded like his head was a jackhammer. “No problem. They’ll never see me again. Can I go now?”

  “Yes, but move very slowly.”

  Once he cleared the park, I went over and waited for Cristina to jump down out of the tree.

  “Did you record all that?” I asked.

  “Every damn word.”

  “Get it to Stan. Plus, I’m going to text you a picture I have of Angel.”

  “Where are you going? We’ve got that appointment with the school-district official.”

  “You take it. I trust you. I’m going to Vegas.”

  22

  Alex

  Oddly enough, on our trek back into Vegas—which included catching a ride with a woman who was celebrating her eightieth birthday by driving into Vegas to “party like she was twenty-one again”—we found a small hospital before we found a law-enforcement office.

  I convinced Becca to go ahead and have a sexual-assault forensic exam, also known as a rape kit. She cried before, and then she cried after. But she received lots of hugs from Erin and me. Doctors also treated Erin’s wound as best they could. They said she would need to see a reconstructive surgeon to avoid her having an enormous scar on her face. I bit back tears when they gave us that news. Strangely, Erin didn’t get upset. She listened and appeared to be thinking through some things. I knew the demons would come back like acid reflux, not just over the next few days but well into the future, most likely. I planned on finding a counselor for her once we made it back home.

  It took three hours before Erin, Becca, and I walked through the sliding glass doors of the hotel the Faulks were staying in. We’d called from the hospital to let them know we were on our way. We didn’t provide details about the trauma Becca had sustained, or the murder, or any other horrors they’d witnessed. Sonya and Byron would have plenty of time to comfort their daughter and heal as a family.

  Sonya and Byron spotted us from across the gold and red lobby. They sprinted in our direction and engulfed Becca in a family hug. Tears were shed, but also a lot of kisses and follow-up hugs.

  “Prayers have been answered!” Sonya yelled, taking Becca’s hands in hers.

  “You don’t look too bad. Maybe a little on the dirty side, but you weren’t hurt or anything, were you?” Byron said, hitching up his pants.

  Becca looked down at the colorful lobby carpet. Not surprisingly, the carpet had a motif of blackjack tables, slot machines, and dice. She seemed unsure how to respond. I thought his question was poorly timed and naïve. Maybe his brain just couldn’t fathom her being harmed.

  I spoke up. “There’s lots to share, Byron, maybe when you guys are alone. But I will tell you that they escaped on their own. They actually just happened to stumble upon me in the middle of nowhere outside the city.”

  He walked over and shook my hand. “I can’t tell you how grateful Sonya and I are for everything you did to bring our daughter back.” He gave me the once-over. “You look about as dirty as the girls.”

  I shrugged. A moment later, Sonya wrapped her arms around me from the side—the odd angle crunched my shoulders.

  “You’re my hero, Alex,” she said. “I’m so sorry that we gave you a hard time when this nightmare started. We were so worried…we didn’t have control of our actions. Right, Byron?” She turned and looked at her husband.

  He gave a tight nod. “Yeah. Very sorry, Alex.” His tone was business-like. It had been a while since I’d seen the Faulks. Maybe at one of the girls’ tennis tournaments. Sonya had changed her hair color—what woman didn’t do that at least a couple of times a year? Byron, though, looked different, as if he’d gone on some major diet. He was leaner, a little disheveled. His raccoon-eyes were so hollow, it was almost like looking right into his skull. I was certain that once I looked in a mirror, it might crack, so who I was to judge someone’s appearance after going through this hell? Even if Byron and Sonya didn’t experience the horrors themselves, they, like most parents, were probably crumbling to pieces, waiting to get an update.
I was just happy to see everyone happy.

  The high of the reunion was soon followed by sheer exhaustion. Relief, yes, but the fatigue was very real. My knees became wobbly; my hands jittered.

  “What do you say we all get cleaned up, rest some, and then meet down here for a celebratory dinner?” Sonya said, putting her arms around both girls.

  “Sounds like fun to me,” Becca said.

  “I’m game.” Erin reached over and gave Becca a fist bump, then she turned to me. “You cool with that, Mom?”

  “We need to talk to local FBI agents, and that could take some time. You and Becca will need to share everything with them, and I’ll have a few things to tell as well.”

  Sonya said, “We certainly want these horrible people behind bars, don’t we, Byron?”

  “Of course.” He scratched the stubble on his face as his eyes drifted off. He looked like he carried a lot of anxiety. I could relate.

  I agreed that we’d try to meet up later for dinner, but I’d first try to reach the local FBI office. There were more hugs—none bigger than the one between Erin and Becca—and then we parted ways. That was when I realized I had no money, no ID, and no phone.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  I gave her the quick de-brief on our financial situation.

  “Hmm,” she said.

  “Hmm, what?”

  “Hold on.” She started walking off.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to catch up with Becca and her parents. I’m sure they’ll get us a room and pay for our meals while we’re here. Then you can just pay them back.”

  She flipped around and headed for the elevators on the other end of the lobby. I could see the top of Sonya’s frosted hair.

  While keeping an eye on Erin as she zipped through the crowd, I waltzed over to the front counter.

  “May I help you?”

  A quick glance to see a female employee with a smile wider than my head.