Page 31

Each word of that conversation they’d had before their last traffic stop was etched in his brain.

On that sweltering summer day, the temperature topping 102, they’d arrived first to examine the cargo truck abandoned on the side of a road, the rear tire flat.

The plates came back reported stolen. He’d been content to wait with Daniela in their air-conditioned squad car until backup arrived, but something made him get out and approach the vehicle.

He found himself unspooling a story he’d refused to discuss with anyone since the incident debrief.

“I heard a sound, like fists pounding on the door, muffled, high-pitched screams.” People.

There were people inside that truck. He felt again the flood of adrenaline, the way his pulse had slammed into high gear as he’d run to get the battering ram from his vehicle.

“Daniela told me we should wait, help was only a few minutes out, but I didn’t listen.

I grabbed the ram to knock the padlock off the door handle.

She was right behind me, backing me up even though she’d wanted to wait.

I didn’t examine the scene well enough. Guy had an explosive wired to the lock, and it blew.

I got knocked out, but...” He breathed long and slow.

“The ram flew backward and hit her, severed her spinal cord. She’s a paraplegic now. Thanks to me.”

Kit continued to look at him, but he couldn’t maintain eye contact.

“Does she blame you?”

“No. The opposite. She has invited me to stay in Mia’s life, sends me texts and cards, invitations to Christmas and birthday parties. Her husband feels differently, though. Caught me outside last time I visited and made his position crystal clear.”

He’d stood on their front porch, knuckles raised to knock and a stuffed giraffe under his arm when the door had swung open. Ron was waiting for him, staring him down. He kept his voice soft so Daniela wouldn’t hear, but each word clanged like a gong.

“Cullen , I don’t care what Daniela thinks.

You’re not welcome here. You went all cowboy on that call.

You had to be the hero , and now my wife can’t walk.

She’s got to take care of our baby from a wheelchair.

Everything in our life has gotten exponentially harder because you couldn’t wait five minutes. ”

He looked at Kit and let it loose. “Ron said, ‘You’re not the hero anymore, not in our story, so butt out. Daniela may not fault you, but I do, and I don’t want you around my kid or my wife.’ He slammed the door before I could respond. But there was nothing I could say anyway. So that was that.”

He’d never told Daniela about the encounter with her husband, in order not to cause any more stress or pain in their marriage. Besides, deep down, he knew every word was true. Five minutes. He’d changed all their lives in five minutes.

Kit broke into his reverie.

“You didn’t go back to being a cop because of what happened?”

He blinked, looked at his lap and then at her and finally at Tot.

“Could have returned, but...” He let the comment trail away, tapped the bottle to get the last of the milk into Tot’s mouth.

“They got the women out of the truck, six of them, some barely into their teens. Several were injured from the explosion but not severely. One died later of heat exhaustion. They were being moved out of state for trafficking purposes.”

Her nostrils flared. “Disgusting.”

“Yes. The truck driver vanished, and whoever hired him wasn’t caught either. Nobody got what they deserved.” Nobody.

“Cullen, I’m sorry. That’s a horrible thing to live with.”

He didn’t answer. What was there to say?

Kit’s gaze drifted out the fractured window, roving over the devastation. “Do you think Nico and Simon escaped?”

He tried to peer through the sifting clouds.

Though they couldn’t see past the walls and the hideous pile beyond, he had a feeling deep in the marrow of his bones that the two had made it up trail before being caught in the landslide.

“If they did,” he said quietly, “I will spend the rest of my days hunting them down until they’re locked away. ”

“I wonder what’s in that envelope.” She pulled it from the duffel while he put the baby to his shoulder. Gingerly, she removed the contents and scanned them.

“It’s a series of pictures, ten, twelve, fifteen of them. All photos of young women, some very young. They all look so scared.”

His gut began to burn.

“And...” Her voice pinched off. She tried again. “Nico’s in each one, his arm around them, grinning as if he’s taking a selfie with his girlfriend. It’s vile.”

They were silent a moment as she pulled the bottom photo loose. She gasped.

“This one is Annette. I know it is. I remember her face now, big eyes, high cheekbones. She’s younger in the picture and she’s terrified. Nico’s smiling and she’s scared to death.” She flipped it over. “On the back of each one is a date, a name, and a location.”

“Probably where the women were picked up.”

Tot seemed to grow heavier on his shoulder, and he felt his soul sink.

Annette had been snatched away by a monster, and she’d risked everything to save herself and this baby.

What were the chances that they’d survive, Tot and her mother, to be reunited?

The chance of a happy ending was plummeting with every moment.

That mental path wasn’t helpful. He resettled the baby.

“All right then. Tot’s just about out. Allow me to take the first shift and hunt for that tunnel.

I’ll stoke the fire while I’m at it. You can keep my phone in case there’s a satellite that happens to zip over in the next few minutes and beam us a signal. Fair?”

“Fair.” She repackaged the photos with care.

He eased Tot gently to the seat and laid a blanket across her legs. Her earlier rage had left her tuckered out. She was cold, yes, but not hungry at least, and not wet. Best they could do.

“Here,” she said.

He took what she offered. “Peanut butter cups?”

“You haven’t eaten all day, right?”

“Have you?” he countered. “Eaten while I was enjoying my refreshing nap?”

She shook her head. “No. When I finally managed to get her to sleep, I was too afraid the crackling wrappers would wake her.”

“Let me.” He took the sweet from her. “My mom didn’t allow candy in the house, so my brothers and I developed a massive black-market business trading our hidden loot.

I honed some pretty good skills opening wrappers silently.

” He eased open the package a millimeter at a time and solemnly delivered one of the peanut butter cups.

She giggled. “I’ll add ‘stealth unwrapper’ to the list of attributes I have for you.”

“How long’s the list?”

She ducked her head suddenly, shy. Well, well. Maybe there was an actual list after all. He could certainly rattle off a lengthy set of her positive qualities at the drop of the proverbial hat. They clinked the candies in a mock toast.

“To you, Kit Garrido, founder of the feast and maker of fire.”

She laughed. “And to you, Cullen Landry, crafter of escape plans, changer of diapers, remover of wrappers.”

Amazing that they could joke, considering the enormity of what they were facing.

He was still chuckling as he slid on his mask, snuck out, and closed the door softly.

The chocolate and peanut butter tingled his taste buds and provided the burst of energy he needed as he picked his way across the littered stone floor.

A quick moment to add another dryish log to the fire and then he moved directly to the waterwheel.

Archie had been specific in his description, and the tunnel entrance would be near a wall, he figured, so the access wouldn’t impede any of the machinery. Back corner?

Doubts began to assemble themselves in short order as he exhaled frigid puffs of air through the mask.

In the decades since the mill had been abandoned, it was completely likely that it had been sealed up, cemented over, or collapsed.

He cinched the rising hopelessness and tamped it down.

Kit and Tot were alive and unharmed, and he wasn’t going to throw that blessing away in the face of despair.

He’d search until God made it clear there was nothing to find. He set to work.

The process was easy in some places where the walls and floors were clear of debris.

On hands and knees, he shone his flashlight over every seam and crevice, going so far as to tap on the rock every few inches to check for a hollow sound that would indicate a tunnel.

Shin bones aching, he turned his attention to the shorter side of the structure that abutted the waterwheel.

Most of it was covered by piles of fallen bricks, particularly in the place where a massive trunk had landed, partially collapsing the wall.

Everything would have to be cleared to get a proper look.

His hands were cold and stiff, and the work of removing the busted brick was arduous.

A sprinkling of snow began to sift down, collecting on his shoulders as he worked, but he kept at it.

The rough bricks bit at his palms. Work gloves.

Why hadn’t he packed a pair? Even knitted gloves would offer some protection.

He had a pair of those in his gear, but it wasn’t worth stopping to retrieve them and he didn’t want to wake Tot or give Kit any false hope that he’d found a way out.

As he burrowed closer to the corner, flinging debris behind him, a squirrel shot out from the twisted branches of a shrub. He jerked back with a muffled holler. The animal raced up to a higher position and chittered at him. He blew out a breath. At least it wasn’t a rat.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Sorry, squirrel. Didn’t mean to mess up your den. I know we’re all just trying to work with what we got at this point.”