Making his way to the rear wall, Colby placed one hand behind him to keep Eva back while he watched multiple guards hurrying toward the front of the property. Gunfire persisted, drawing them away from the rooms. “Let’s move.” They stayed close, with their backs to the wall, moving toward the first door. It was open but empty inside.
Eva ran ahead, checked the second, and said it was the same. “Maybe I should go up.”
“No, you stay with me.”
Suddenly an armed guard bellowed something over the balcony above them.
They pulled back, pressing into the shadows, and waited until they heard him continue. Moving as fast as they could, they went from room to room, checking each one. All were empty. Still in good condition. A few had duffel bags full of clothes. Colby assumed those rooms were used by the guards. Not finding anyone on the lower floor they darted into a stairwell and ascended. Colby was about to open the stairwell door and enter the second tier when a guy stepped out of one of the rooms, head down, zipping up his pants, and slinging a rifle over his shoulder. He looked in a hurry. Distracted. It was perfect. He turned into the stairwell, straight into Colby.
There was this second of registering who he was, but before he had a chance to do anything Colby shot him in the gut twice, using his body to muffle the sound. He slumped and they dragged him into a darkened corner, taking the radio off him so Colby could hear what was happening.
Moving out, they entered the first room off to their left. Several women were inside, stripped down to just their bras and panties. A glance at the set-up and it was clear they weren’t using these women for trafficking, they were using them to fill bags full of cocaine. In an instant, the women backed up, scared, confused. “Go. Get out now,” he barked. Some grabbed their clothes and darted out. Others just ran. “Head down the stairwell, and head to the rear of the hotel.”
A gun erupted.
Colby spun around to find Eva holding a handgun.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
“It’s my father’s. And I just saved your life.”
He didn’t have time to argue. He ushered the women out and pointed them toward the stairwell but before the last one exited, he grabbed her arm. “Have you seen a woman and a dog?”
“Yes. But they’re gone.”
“Gone? Dead?”
“No, they took them. I don’t know where.” She slipped by him. He stood there feeling deflated for a second or two before moving on to the next room. Entering a few more rooms, it was the same. Bricks of cocaine. Scantily clad women.
“Callie. Callie!” Eva yelled.
Callie? Colby had heard that name before. Matthew and Delores. The goth girl.
Eva looked frantic as she went from one room to the next and they released as many of the women as they could. Some were in their teens, others in their early twenties. They made it to the far end, and then the same girl he’d seen earlier burst out of a room. Eva hugged her, a tearful reunion. Callie looked his way and appeared as if she wanted to say something, but there was no time.
Several rounds whizzed past his face, tearing into two women and taking them down. Colby twisted and opened fire on another guard who’d seen the women escaping. He dropped the guy and waved the other women out. “Move, move, move!”
He stepped over the dead.
There was no time to stop.
They’d already caused a big enough commotion.
FOURTEEN Dan Wilder
Humboldt County
When SWAT raided his home, Alby was gliding back and forth on the porch rocker, sipping 25-year-old scotch, relishing every drop. He’d become so accustomed to living on the other side of the law that he had bought into the lie that he was untouchable. He wasn’t.
None of them were. Dan was in office for this very reason.
Rikers, Stricklands, it didn’t matter. If they continued to operate outside the law, he would be there to remind them their days were numbered.
SWAT swooped in on Alby from every angle, like silent ninjas, rifles at the ready.
He had a shotgun leaning up against the wall, but he didn’t go for it.
There was not even the slightest attempt to defend himself.
He looked amused.
That’s what struck him as odd.
His aging dog Lenny lay beside him, more alert than him.
If he wasn’t mistaken, Dan almost thought Alby was expecting his arrival.
“Sheriff Dan Wilder. Don’t you look like a peach in that uniform. Funny, I was only just thinking about you. Care for a drink?” he said, raising his glass.
Several deputies moved in on him, bringing him down to the floor and handcuffing his wrists behind his back. He lifted his face to meet Dan’s gaze.
“Sloppy, Alby. Very sloppy.”
“Is that what you think?” He chuckled to himself as they lifted him. “Sloppy was killing Bruce. If you think those three boys’ lives are the end, you are very much mistaken. This is just beginning, and it only has one outcome. You should know that better than anyone else.”
“I’m arresting you on the charge of murder.” He began reading him his rights. “Take him away,” he said.
“I need my meds.”
“We’ll get them.”
“You think I can take Lenny with me?”
“I’ll make sure your kin gets him.”
“Alive, Dan. Alive. I’ve heard about you.”
Dan’s cheeks went flush. He was glad it was nighttime and his face wasn’t illuminated. Alby was referring to an incident when he was a youngster, an accident in which he shot his own dog on a hunting trip. The Rikers hadn’t let him live that down since. As he was carted away, Dan went inside the house and took a look
