“But you’re just as responsible as they are.”
“I’m not refuting that; I take full responsibility for the actions of anyone under my command. This whole vile subterfuge has been just as much me as anyone else involved.”
The girl seethed to the point of shaking. “A lot of people got sick because of what you did. Some of them almost died, including a four-year-old little boy and one of my closest friends. Your actions set off a cascade of events that could’ve killed every last one of us. A group had to leave to search for food and medical help and almost didn’t make it back. Some of them, myself included, were captured and imprisoned…some were tortured.” A pause. “Child abduction is unspeakable and heinous enough, but that attack…that drone strike…overstepped the mark by a fucking long shot.”
“What drone strike?” August probed, his eyes becoming slits.
The girl’s eyes went ablaze. “Really? There’s no sense in denying it. Those missiles or whatever that thing dropped on us killed eleven people, including a person I loved more than anyone in this world…and a righteous, kindhearted man who was like a father to me. One of my friends is fighting for his life right now from the burns he sustained…and my sister—my pregnant sister—could lose her baby because of it!”
August’s head went in motion as his mind raced. “I’m sorry to hear all that, I am. But I don’t know anything about any drone strike…I swear to God I don’t.”
“That’s bullshit, Special Agent Carter.”
“It isn’t, though. I swear it isn’t,” August pled. “My teams and I…we’ve been stuck out here for weeks, barely getting by with very little information to go on. I’ve read the op script…an aerial assault was only cited as being an option, a last-ditch effort, to be used only in the event nothing else did.”
“And yet, that isn’t what happened,” she snapped. “Have you ever taken a moment to mull over the unintended consequences of your actions? Have any of those possibilities ever once occurred to you, Special Agent Carter? Have you ever proffered one single iota of consideration for the people to whom you were ordered to send all this hate?” She scoffed at him. “Were you born into this world devoid a human conscience? Are you an animal?”
“All right, that’s enough! I am done being questioned by the likes of you!” August thundered, his chest screaming at the effort. “Why did you come here? Was it for retribution? To kill us because of what we did to you? Did you intend to wipe every one of us out? Then commence! Kill me and get it over with! Considerations or not, I’m through being an active participant in this interview, girl!”
“Lauren.”
“What?”
“My name. It isn’t ‘girl’. It’s Lauren. Lauren Russell.”
August shrank. His body underwent a brief spell of tremors as if warring against itself. “Dammit…judge all you like, but you don’t know me, and you don’t know how I feel about this. I feel bad enough already for what’s happened and how things have gone. I mean, look at what I did…I fucking shot my teammate—a fellow agent, one of my closest friends! And you dare pester me about regrets, considerations, and unintended consequences? Well, guess what? I regret it all! Everything! But I don’t answer to you! And I can’t go back, start over, and make things right. So stop wasting time, and tell me what you want or kill me already!”
Lauren inspected the man for a beat. “What’s your name?”
“August,” he huffed.
“Okay, August. Before you shot your teammate, he alluded to taking prisoners and a detention center. Four girls went missing last week. Shall I infer from what was said that you have knowledge of their whereabouts?”
August sighed and rolled his lips. “Yes. We have them. A teenager and three others…young enough to be in grade school.”
“Where?”
He gestured in the direction of the duo of parked DHS vehicles behind her. “Inside the trailer on the tail end. Keys to the lock should be with the ones in the ignition.”
Lauren turned away, retrieved her rifle, and started off without further ado.
“We caught someone else, too. He’s in there with them. Not sure if he’s with you or not, but he seemed to know the girls.”
“Christian…” Lauren let slip under breath. “Is he mid to late twenties, bearded, dark hair?”
August nodded. “Guess that answers my question.”
After retrieving the keys as indicated, Lauren unlocked the trailer and hesitated before pulling open the double doors while her imagination played tricks with her. She envisioned doing so and a trailer full of armed agents hidden inside tackling her to the ground right before shooting her dead. The H&K at low ready, she snapped off the safety and second-guessed every possible move she could make. Then she dragged the doors ajar.
Brooke Schmidt’s face was the first to come into view as the morning light crept inside. A couple of years younger and a few inches shorter than Lauren, she jerked her head to attention and began sobbing when she saw her rescuer.
Lauren unsheathed her knife and ran the blade through Brooke’s restraints. She then carefully removed the strip of tape covering Brooke’s mouth and pulled the gag free.
Brooke coughed and wheezed and wiped her face. “I need some water, please…anything to drink. I’m so thirsty.”
“In a minute. Let’s get all of you out of here first.” A few feet farther in, three young girls sat huddled together on the plywood trailer floor, their wrists bound. Emily Taylor, and two girls with golden blond hair who Lauren hadn’t met until this moment: Annabelle and Allison Brady, Austin’s sisters and the late Bo Brady’s two youngest daughters.
Lauren approached the group of youngsters, set her rifle aside, and carefully went to work on their restraints while
