got half a mind to call off my men.”
“Don’t do that,” Jake said, thinking of how small Madison had appeared in the hospital bed.
“I won’t. But don’t think for a minute this is pro bono anymore. I’m transferring these funds to our account ASAP.”
“You can do that?”
“One phone call.” She winked at him. “Don’t worry, Jake. I wouldn’t do it to you.”
“Remind me to switch to an offshore account as soon as I get home.”
“Only slows me down, doesn’t stop me,” Syd teased.
Jake thought about her half of the company’s start-up money, then decided he probably didn’t want to know. “So can you trace back the deposits?”
“I can’t, but I’ll put one of my guys on it. Hopefully he’ll have something by this afternoon.”
“Okay.” Jake yawned and stretched. “I’m going out for coffee.”
“Great. Be quiet when you come in, I’m going to crash in the bedroom.”
Madison pushed the crust of her sandwich around the rim of the plate until she caught her mother’s look and stopped. She sighed and buried her chin in one hand. It was funny, twenty-four hours ago she would have killed for some company. When her mother and sister showed up at the hospital they’d all clung together, crying and talking over each other in an outpouring of emotion. After arriving at the farmhouse last night they all crowded into the same queen bed. In spite of that Madison slept fitfully. The slightest noise sent her bolt upright, her heart in her throat. Her mother stroked her hair and wiped the tears away. And Madison would slowly drift off, only to have it happen again an hour later.
By this morning they’d fallen back into their habitual state of silence. Bree sat by the fireplace reading a book. And her mother had become her shadow. Madison knew it was because she loved her and was afraid of losing her again, but for God’s sake, they were in a two-bedroom farmhouse. It wasn’t like there was anywhere to go. The commando boys, as she’d taken to calling them, wouldn’t even let her look outside. But still her mother hovered as though she might slip through a crack in the floorboards and vanish. It was starting to become seriously annoying. The TV only had three channels, there was a VCR but the movies were really old and lame. And that was it. What she’d do to have her DS Lite back again.
“How long do we have to stay?” Madison asked again.
Her mother shot her a warning look, but she didn’t care anymore. Nothing about this felt right. They’d had an army of cops at the hospital earlier, why hadn’t they asked to be protected by them? Cops would put them somewhere safe, she’d seen it on TV. For all they knew, these guys could have been in on it from the beginning. This might be part of the whole plan. Madison had pointed that out when they’d first arrived, but her mother had shushed her.
“But what makes you so sure Dad hired them?” she’d asked.
“I just know,” her mother had said, avoiding her eyes.
The commando boys kept glancing at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. If her dad had hired these guys, what was to prevent someone from offering more money to get them to switch sides? Just in case, she’d palmed one of the steak knives from the drawer and tucked it inside her cast. It was uncomfortable, pressed against her bare skin. But it was something. More than she’d had last time, at any rate.
The one who appeared to be in charge, Maltz, returned from the bedroom. He tucked a cell phone in his pocket and avoided their eyes. An hour ago one of them had returned from a trip outside visibly agitated, and since then there had been lots of whispered conversations.
“What’s going on?” Madison asked.
“Nothing, miss,” he said.
But within five minutes they were moving pieces of furniture, blocking the few windows. Maltz marched in with an armful of guns and dropped them in the middle of the living room floor.
“Sweet Jesus,” her mother breathed. They both stared as he went through the pile, performing some kind of check on each.
Madison heard an engine gunning, and watched as they backed the van up to the door. “What the hell is going on?” she asked, hobbling up to Maltz. He’d produced a pair of crutches, but she hated using them.
Maltz eyed her. Clearly he wasn’t comfortable around kids, or maybe humans in general. He wasn’t much taller than her but he was thick, ropy muscle lending him an air of solidity. He had light blue eyes and dusty-blond hair cropped close to his scalp. Under other circumstances, Madison would have probably thought he was cute. Apparently he realized she wasn’t getting out of his face without a response. “We’ve got company,” he said simply.
Madison ’s lungs deflated as though someone was squeezing them. Once again she pictured the clamps being fastened on her bra and she started to shake. “The same guys?” she asked.
“I think so.” Maltz awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said. “We won’t let ’em get you again.”
Madison didn’t reply. She went and curled up next to her mother on the couch. Audrey’s arms wrapped around her and Madison let herself be held, rocked back and forth as she watched the preparations through a stream of tears. One of the men had found some boards and they started nailing them over the windows. The sound of the hammer drove it home: this was never going to end. They had her father, and pretty soon they’d have the rest of her family, too. Madison wanted to scream but instead buried her face in her mother’s chest. As Audrey hummed a tuneless song, one by one the windows were covered and the room slipped into darkness.
Twenty-Two
“Chip?”
Kelly shook her head. Rodriguez crunched noisily. “Haven’t had these since I was a kid,” he said happily, shaking the bag in her direction. “I didn’t even know they still made them.”
“That’s exciting,” Kelly said wryly.
“Hey, anything to lighten the mood.”
Kelly shifted in her seat. She had to go to the bathroom again, but the nearest one was almost a mile away on a parallel road. It was nearly noon and the other warehouses had a steady stream of trucks to and from their loading ramps. Their parked car hadn’t attracted any attention yet, but she was nervous. The other warehouses could also be harboring illegal activities. For all she knew, there could be a posse assembling to string them up, and they were out here all alone. With every passing hour, her doubts about the plan grew. And Rodriguez’s incessant chatter wasn’t helping.
So far she’d been mistaken in her assumption that the cowboys would race to check the second warehouse. She and Rodriguez had spent the night in the car, taking shifts sleeping, and no one had appeared. Maybe Rodriguez was right, and the close call yesterday caused them to shy off. Kelly had agreed that if no one showed by noon, she’d call ICE. Rodriguez bet her fifty dollars that she’d be making that call, and they shook on it. She felt guilty leaving those poor people inside with no food or water. When she conceived the plan she’d expected to wait a few hours, max.
Kelly examined Rodriguez out of the corner of her eye. His face was the manifestation of a mood ring, with every passing hour a new shade was revealed. She had to admit, she was impressed with the way he was handling himself. The bar incident was a debacle, but since then he’d proven surprisingly devoted to solving the case, almost to an extreme. Under similar circumstances, she’d probably still be in a hospital bed.
“You sure you don’t want one? They’re almost gone.” He held the bag out again, and this time she grabbed a handful.
“Thanks.” Kelly popped one in her mouth and promptly gagged. “Oh my God!” she choked.
Rodriguez laughed and handed her a soda. Kelly took a gulp, swished it around her mouth, and spit out the window. “What is that?”
“Pork.”
“That does not taste like pork,” Kelly said, eyeing the remaining chips skeptically.
