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  Truman released his hold on Murphy and pushed her toward the bartender. Derek let go of the Carnicero's daughter, but she didn't move. Her dark brown eyes flicked toward the night club, and her stance tensed for movement.

  Derek didn't give her the chance to bolt. His hand shot out and he smacked her in face. She gasped and grabbed a barstool before she could topple over sideways. Derek yanked his gun out and rammed it against her spine. Truman had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at him. Bennett wouldn't use it. He might not be completely stable, but he wasn't mental. He wouldn’t hurt her. He better not.

  "Move, girl," he growled. He ran his gun down her spine. "You'll be dead before you can get two words out."

  Two men at the bar glanced toward Derek, but their expressions lacked any interest. Rivera stepped to her friend, her whole frame shaking. The redhead took her hand and narrowed her eyes at Derek, her jaw clenched. Without another word, the two girls followed the bartender up the stairs.

  Truman waited until he heard the door upstairs close, and then he relaxed his shoulders. "What kind of make-over is that woman going to do?"

  Rodriguez helped himself to a bottle of beer in the fridge. "Said she's a hairdresser. She'll fix 'em up nice."

  Truman visualized again the curvy bartender, complete with the deep purple hair. "I bet she will." Grabbing a shot glass, he helped himself to some whiskey. "Derek." Taking a sip, he eyed the muscular man over the rim of the glass. "You can't pull stunts like that one. Don't jerk her around. And don't you even think about killing her. Threats are fine. But don't you dare hurt her."

  Anger flashed in Derek's eyes. "She killed Danny. You didn't see it, Boss. You didn't see what she did to him."

  Truman had a difficult time picturing the small teenage girl hurting a cat, let alone a big grown man. "I understand that. But we need her. We need her whole. What we have planned for her is worse than death."

  The words brought a twisted smile to Bennett's face. "Yeah. Worse than death. Just what she deserves."

  Truman downed his glass and poured another, his insides twisting. He drank it quickly and got himself a third glass, trying to chase away his own words with the burning liquid.

  Chapter 25

  No words were spoken after the girls came back down. The bartender had earned her fee. They looked so different that Truman was rendered speechless.

  Rivera, the brunette with the long dark hair, was now a blond with a bob. A jagged fringe hid most of her forehead. Murphy now donned straight, chestnut brown hair instead of her red curls. Truman knew who they were, yet he kept stealing glances at them, unable to believe how changed they were.

  Grey took them out to the SUV while Rodriguez paid the bartender.

  Truman stepped up to her. "Did you find anything on them? Any jewelry?"

  She shook her head, rubbing her ruby red lips together. "Nope. And I made them strip. Nothing on them."

  Truman nodded, mulling that information over in his head. Where was the necklace? Where had they left it? Had they turned it over to the FBI?

  He couldn't think that. Surely the girls would have kept it for leverage against him.

  Rodriguez returned them to the closet in the warehouse. Derek parked his car across the street and settled in for his night surveillance. Grey drove everyone else back to the hotel.

  It began to snow as they drove across town. Few cars braved the road at this hour, and the hazy lights glowing through the white powder cast the world in an ethereal light.

  Truman pulled his phone out and called Alfred. His voice seemed unusually loud in the silence of the vehicle. "What of Florence and her daughter?"

  "They caught their flight. Nobody questioned them. We should never hear from them again."

  "Lie low in Canada, Alfred. Wait for me to contact you." Truman turned off the phone. Everything was going according to plan. If only he didn't feel so disgusted by it.

  One thing he needed that he didn't have: the necklace.

  As he and his two men locked up the motel room, Truman said, "Tomorrow morning I'm going to question the girls myself. Grey, relieve Derek in the morning. Rodriguez, shadow as many of the police force as you can. Sit in that diner where they always go for lunch and listen to their conversations. Tell me everything you hear, even if you don't think it's relevant."

  The two of them nodded, and then everyone settled down for the night.

  Sleep didn't come easy. Truman tossed and turned, listening to Grey snore and Rodriguez cough. He rehearsed in his mind the words he would say to the girls, the way he would coax them to tell him where he necklace was. He had nothing to promise them. Soon their fate would be out of his hands.

  However, he could threaten them. He made a mental list of everything he could use against them.

  At some point he must've fallen asleep, because he snapped his eyes open with a start. The light peeking in from the drawn curtains indicated early morning. He blinked several times, eyes gritty with exhaustion. He rubbed his cheeks, opening his mouth and moving his jaw from side to side. His head ached like he'd been clenching his jaw all night.

  He rolled out of bed and changed into a clean pair of pants. Grabbing the keys to the SUV, he leaned over and woke Grey.

  "What?" Grey started to rise from his position on the floor, but Truman waved him back.

  "I'm taking the Suburban. I'll be back in two hours and you can switch cars with Derek."

  "Oh. Okay." Blinking sleepily, Grey relaxed again.

  Truman slipped out of the motel room, patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone and room key.

  First stop: Burger King. Food might do wonders to make the girls talk.

  Truman stepped into the old warehouse and wrinkled his nose. He'd forgotten what a mess it was. The previous times he'd been here, his sole focus was to get the girls and get out. Now that he planned to spend some time inside, he couldn't help noticing what an unpleasant place it was. He checked the SUV to see if there was any antibacterial hand soap, but of course there wasn't.

  Finding the room with the closet where they'd locked the girls, he stepped inside, listening to the way his boots pounded over the exposed concrete when he walked.

  The sun was fully up now, with light streaming through the room, across the folding chair that had been set up for a guard. Thus far he’d kept someone watching the warehouse from outside, but if Truman couldn't get the girls to talk, he'd set someone up in here full-time. They probably talked to each other, told things they might not want someone to overhear.

  He unlocked the closet door and threw it open. Both girls huddled in the corner. The Carnicero's daughter blinked up at him. It took him a moment to recognize her behind the short, blondish hair.

  "Up." Truman started to reach for her, but she scurried to her feet, backing against the wall and avoiding his outstretched hand. Not a problem. As long as she cooperated, he didn't need to touch her. He locked the closet door with Murphy inside, one eye on Rivera in case she decided to run. He doubted she would. She didn't seem like the type to leave her friend behind.

  She didn't move. Her eyes stared at the wall in front of her, one hand pulling on the fingers of the other. When he took a step in her direction, she started like a frightened bird, keeping just a few feet in front of him.

  "To the bathroom," he said, but he didn't need to. She obviously knew the routine.

  He waited outside the small utility bathroom. The warehouse had no running water, and two people would be one too many in the tiny, filthy room. Her gaze met his for a brief second when she came out, then darted away again. He let her lead the way back to the closet, then repeated the whole thing with her friend.

  In spite of the tacky hairstyle, the other girl wasn't nearly so broken. "What are you going to do with us?" Murphy demanded.

  Her courage, if it could be called that, intrigued him. She didn't seem to be the smartest of the girls. Nor did he think her the bravest. Yet in the face of murder, oppression, and slavery, she didn't
show any fear. "We'll have a chance to talk." He gestured toward the bathroom.

  She hesitated, and he tensed, preparing to chase her down. She just might be the kind to leave a friend behind.

  She narrowed her deep green eyes and disappeared inside.

  "You think you're pretty clever, don't you," she said from within, surprising him again. Her voice bounced off the bathroom walls. "You think you'll never get caught."

  "You think I will?" He responded to her in spite of himself.

  "I know you will. You can't play this game forever."

  He knew she was right. He'd come to the same conclusion himself; hence his forced, early retirement. But she didn't need to know that. He kept quiet, and she didn't say anything more.

  She sidestepped him when she came out of the bathroom, the only indication that he made her uneasy. He kept pace with her, not letting her trail or lead. When they reached the closet, he locked her inside. For a moment he stood against the door, waiting to see if they'd speak. They didn't, so he went back to the SUV for the breakfast bags.

  He was taking a chance, letting both girls out at the same time. But unless they attacked him, they weren't going anywhere. And if they attacked... he fingered his pistol. It would be a sad end to a terrible story.

  He put the bags of food on the concrete floor and unlocked the closet again. "Come on. Out."

  Rivera stared at the food but didn't budge. She licked her lips and squeezed her hands.

  Not Murphy. She pushed her way out of the closet and settled in front of the bags. In an instant she had one opened and dumped out, but not before shooting a glare at Truman. He suppressed a smile. He moved the only chair in the room up against the door and sat down.

  "Come out," he said again to the Carnicero's daughter. "I won't hurt you. You have to eat."

  The girl closed her eyes, and a visible tremor ran through her. Then she straightened her shoulders and joined her friend.

  She seemed so fragile. How could such a frail, frightened creature kill Derek’s brother?

  Truman leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the girls. Both of them cast glances his way in between bites, some of the apprehension going out of their expressions. Truman wondered how long they would last in Sid's care. The life planned for them would tear them apart in ways not even he could imagine.

  Murphy, now a light brunette, took a noisy sip from her orange juice and asked, "Why are we here? What are you going to do with us?"

  If they wanted answers, they'd have to give some in return. "I can't tell you. I was foolish enough to underestimate you girls last time. I'm ruined now."

  "So you're trying to ruin us," Rivera said.

  He met her eyes. It probably appeared that way, as if this were a simple matter of revenge. Unfortunately, it was a lot more complicated than that. "It's a matter of my life or yours. Forgive my selfishness, but I choose mine."

  Her gaze lowered. "Where's Sara?"

  Sara. He tried not to dwell on what he’d almost had. He didn't bother responding.

  Murphy crumpled up the empty breakfast bags and stuffed them inside one another. "What happened to Crystal?"

  He blinked at her. "Crystal?" It took him a moment to realize she meant Florence. "Oh, yes. She's gone."

  Rivera jerked, her eyes widening. "Gone? She's dead?"

  Dead. They still didn't know they'd been betrayed. Ah, the ironies of life. "She was working for us, dear child. People change loyalties rather quickly when someone they love is threatened."

  Her face fell, water pooling in her brown eyes. "But how did you find us?" she whispered.

  "It wasn't hard once we knew what state you were in, which we discovered from a letter we intercepted. Then we just had to find an agent with a vulnerable spot. Like a daughter." He squinted and leaned forward, looking past the girls and out the window. "You have no idea how valuable you are to me."

  He breathed the words out, conscious of how powerful the confession was. He felt drained, exhausted, and no longer wished to speak with these children that he had sentenced to life in hell. He stood and gathered the trash. "By the way." He kept his voice nonchalant with effort and balled the trash in his fists. "Any idea where that necklace is?" He looked at them both, meeting each of their eyes in turn. They shook their heads.

  "That's too bad." He let out a sigh. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to contact your boyfriends in New York. But maybe they know."

  The fingers on Rivera’s left hand tightened. Truman turned to her, and she jerked her eyes to the ground. He shrugged. "If you happen to remember anything, let me know." He pulled open the closet door. "Back inside."

  He locked the door after them. They knew where that necklace was. But fine. They didn't want to tell him. He’d let Sid get it out of them.

  #

  Truman spread out on the motel bed. He listened to his men plan the day, giving one word answers to their questions. Mostly he just wanted out of here. His American passport was ready to enter Venezuela.

  Truman closed his eyes, dreaming of the tile-studded house he'd build in the jungles. Far away from civilization, just like his house in Canada. But this time he'd live a quiet life, no crime to ruin his perfect habitat.

  Truman's cell phone rang. His arm twitched lazily from where it dangled across the bed. His mind fought to wake up, though his body resisted. When had he fallen asleep? And how long had the phone been ringing?

  It stopped. He rolled over and stared at the ceiling, blinking the stickiness from his eyes. Twilight showed through the windows. Where were his men?

  The phone began again. Truman flicked his wrist and looked at his watch. Seven at night. Not that late, but darkness came earlier each day. He picked up his phone, saw Rodriguez’s name in the Caller ID. "Hello?"

  Rodriguez's voice hissed across the line. "The police are up to something."

  Truman sat up, already putting his shoes on. "How do you know?"

  "One of the cops I was shadowing got a message. I was getting gas next to him, and his radio chatter said something about a locked up warehouse."

  "What did the cop say?"

  "Nothing. Wasn't for him. But I hopped into the car and called Grey. He was watching the police station and said there seemed to be a flurry of activity."

  "And you think they mean our warehouse?" Truman stuffed his bag with folders, clothes, everything they had in the motel room. If Rodriguez was right, and the police were about to seize on the warehouse, Ohio was history for them.

  "I called Derek, and he said nothing's happening. But I think they might mean ours."

  "How quickly can you get me?"

  "On my way now. Be there in five."

  "I'll be waiting outside. Then straight to the warehouse. Call Derek, tell him to get ready to haul the girls out." Wouldn’t do any good to let them out before Truman got there with the car. It was a race, now, if the police had really found his warehouse. Who would get there first?

  Truman paid the bill and waited on the curb, his mind already down the road, stuffing the girls into the SUV, escaping. He couldn't lose them now. Sid would be here in two days. Two days!

  Rodriguez slowed down outside the motel, and Truman pulled the driver’s side door open. "Let me drive."

  Rodriguez complied, and Truman took off for the warehouse, driving as fast as he dared. "Call Derek. Tell him we're on our way."

  Chapter 26

  Truman slid the SUV into a parallel parking space up the street from the warehouse, watching for cops. He didn't see any, and nothing showed up on the radar. But they couldn't be far away.

  "Rodriguez. Get in there and help Derek bring out the girls. You've got seconds before the police arrive!"

  Rodriguez jumped out of the car and darted across the street, big black flashlight nearly invisible in the night. A car crossed Truman's line of vision, going the other direction, and when it cleared, Rodriguez had vanished inside.

  The seconds ticked by. Nerves clawed at Truman's
insides, and he couldn't speak. He tapped the steering wheel, the blood pounding louder in his ears with each moment the men were gone. How would they get away, if the police got here now and surrounded the warehouse? “Grey.”

  “Boss?”

  “Go through my phone.” He tossed the device to Grey. “Find a place for us to go.”

  The two men appeared, dragging the girls behind them. "Hurry," Truman murmured. They would look awfully suspicious, crossing the street that way. Especially if spotted by a policeman.

  Derek yanked the side door open and shoved the two girls in. Rodriguez had barely piled inside before Truman took off, letting the momentum of the car slam the doors closed. The road in front of him rose steeply up a hill, and Truman turned down a side street. A grassy meadow appeared in front of him, and he rammed the car forward, nearly taking out a bench before he realized it was a park.

  The warehouse lay just below him, its white flattop roof clearly visible under the lamplights. Truman jerked the car to a stop and killed the engine. He had to see if this was really it, if the police really had found them.

  Rodriguez lit up a cigarette. The man must be feeling the nerves also; thus far he had refrained himself from smoking indoors. The rancid smell filled the SUV, and Truman resisted the urge to put it out. Instead he focused on the view in front of him.

  Moments later, dozens of police cars surrounded the one-level building. They came in quietly, no sirens or lights, and Truman knew the police hoped he was inside. But they didn't know for sure. They didn't even know for sure that the girls were in there.

  Truman turned the car back on and glided out of the park. He'd seen what he needed to see.