Текст книги "Cold Betrayal"

Автор книги: J. A. Jance

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

30

Ali filled up with gas before leaving Kingman. On the two-hour drive back to Flagstaff, she struggled to stay awake. She was on the phone to Andrea Rogers, telling her she’d be at the shelter around one, when a call came through from an unknown number. Half expecting it to be from a law enforcement official of some kind, Ali switched over immediately.

“Ali Reynolds here.”

“Where did they go?” a male voice demanded urgently. “I can’t reach Sister Anselm, and no one at the hospital will tell me anything.”

It took a moment for Ali to recognize David Upton’s voice.

“Oh, David,” she said. “Yes. The hospital was worried about security issues. They suggested that Enid and the baby be moved elsewhere. They’re on their way to a hospital near Tucson. I thought you knew all about it.”

“Before I left the hospital last night, there was some talk about transferring her,” David said, “but I had no idea it would happen this fast. What I don’t understand is what am I supposed to do with Patricia and Agnes?”

“Who?”

“Patricia and Agnes,” David said, “Enid’s friends. She was afraid someone might figure out that they’d helped her, so I went and got them.”

“The Brought Back girls from Colorado City?”

“Where else?”

“How did you find them?”

“How do you think?” David replied. “Enid gave me the address. My car is impounded. I drove up there in a borrowed minivan. I used the GPS on my phone to locate the address and followed that to hike in and find them. There was a third girl Enid was worried about—someone named Mary. Patricia showed me where she’s being held—a jail kind of thing, right next to the church—but that was locked up tight. We tried to find a way to let her out but couldn’t. By then it was starting to get light. We finally had to leave Mary where she was and get the hell out. I wanted to be back in the van and out of there before anyone noticed they were gone.”

“Where are you now?” Ali asked.

“Back in Flag.”

“Are Patricia and Agnes there with you now?” Ali asked.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly?”

“I left them in the van out in the parking lot while I came into the hospital,” David said. “The way they are now, I couldn’t bring them inside and I couldn’t take them to my dorm, either.”

“Why not?”

David sighed. “Because they’re dirty. They’re dressed in filthy rags and they stink. On the way down, cold as it is, I had to drive with the windows open just to breathe. You wouldn’t believe the way they were forced to exist, looking after the pigs and having to live with them, too. No wonder Enid was so afraid of being taken back home. The same thing would have happened to her. No telling what they would have done to her baby.”

Unfortunately, Ali had an idea of the kind of fate that would have awaited Enid’s child. She took a deep breath. “Do you know where the YWCA is?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Take them there. If you go around to the back of the building, you’ll find an entrance to the women’s shelter, Irene’s Place. The director, Andrea Rogers, is a friend of mine. I’ll call ahead and let her know you’re on your way. I’m coming there, too.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” David insisted. “Enid is on her way to Tucson, so she’s probably safe. What if someone comes after these two?”

“Did anyone follow you?”

“No,” he answered. “At least I don’t think so. I tried to keep an eye out. Patricia told me they usually don’t talk to anyone until early evening when they go up to the house to get food. They gave the pigs an extra feeding before we left, but still, if the animals start acting up, someone may notice the girls are gone sooner than tonight.”

“Okay,” Ali said. “Go to the shelter. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Andrea can help them get cleaned up and find something for them to wear in the clothing bank. After you drop them off, wait around in case I need to talk to you.”

Ending the call, she immediately redialed Andrea and let her know what was happening.

“Don’t worry,” Andrea said. “We’ll look after them.”

Andrea sounded reassuring, but as far as Ali was concerned, looking after Patricia and Agnes wasn’t the most pressing issue. Off the phone with Andrea, Ali immediately located the last call to Sean Fergus and punched that number. She was relieved when he answered the phone.

“Did you receive my earlier message?” Ali asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “I did. Going around Sheriff Alvarado makes it tough, but I’m working on an alternate strategy.”

“Good,” she said without asking for details. “Right now we’ve got another problem.”

“What?”

Trying to explain David Upton’s connection to Enid was more than Ali could do right then. “A friend of Enid Tower’s took it upon himself to hike into The Family’s compound last night and bring out two of the women who were being held there. They attempted to bring out a third as well, but she’s being held in some kind of lockup. The two he rescued, Agnes and Patricia, live apart from the rest of the population. It’s possible no one knows that they’ve gone missing so far, but they will soon enough.”

“There goes any chance of taking them by surprise,” Sean muttered.

“Exactly.”

“You say this person hiked in?”

“Yes. His name’s David Upton.”

“How did he gain access? Did he encounter any resistance going or coming—any guards or anti-intrusion devices?”

“Not that he mentioned. According to him, he parked somewhere along the highway and walked in and out.”

“In that case,” Sean said after a pause, “maybe losing the element of surprise isn’t as big an issue as we thought. If this chap was able to gain access to the compound without being detected, he may be able to tell us what route he followed.”

“All right,” she said. “I’m almost to my exit. I should be meeting up with David in the next few minutes. I’ll have him give you a call.”

Ali pulled into the parking lot behind the YWCA and parked next to a dusty Dodge Caravan minivan. David, waiting in the doorway, came out to meet her.

“Is this what you drove up and back in?” Ali asked.

He nodded.

“Where are Patricia and Agnes?”

“They’re showering and changing clothes,” David answered.

“Okay,” Ali said. “Why don’t you take the van back to wherever it belongs. If someone did see you, there’s no sense in advertising that you dropped someone off here.”

“Right,” David said. “The guy who owns it keeps it in a garage. In other words, once it’s back inside, it won’t be visible from the street. Do you want me to come back here after I drop it off?”

“Please,” Ali told him. “These two women trusted you enough to come with you. They’ll be more likely to talk to me if you’re there than if you’re not.”

“Convincing them to come along wasn’t easy,” he said, “especially when I came snooping around in the middle of the night. I told them Enid was afraid they’d be in trouble for helping her get away.”

“Why would anyone think that?”

“Because it’s true,” David answered. “Patricia had a phone number for someone on the Outside, a woman named Irene. Enid didn’t know Irene’s was a place instead of a person.” He nodded toward the door where a discreet brass plaque attached to the wall read simply, IRENE’S.

It’s actually both, Ali thought, remembering her lost friend Reenie Bernard—a person and a place. That explained the phone call Enid had made. She had called asking for Irene with no idea that Irene Bernard had been dead for years while the shelter that was her legacy lived on.

“Anyway,” David continued, “Patricia and Agnes must have believed it, too, because they finally agreed to come along.” He stood up. “I’ll go drop off the car.”

“Do you need me to follow you and bring you back?”

“No,” he said. “It’s not far. It’ll only take me a few minutes to walk it.”

“Do you have your phone with you?” Ali asked.

“Sure,” he said, removing it from his pocket. “Why?”

“I need you to call someone,” she said. “His name’s Sean Fergus. Here’s his number.”

Ali read Sean’s number from her phone and David dutifully keyed it in. “Who’s Sean Fergus?” David asked. “And why do I need to talk to him?”

“He’s an Interpol agent,” Ali explained. “He’s operating on the assumption that The Family is engaged in some kind of human trafficking operation. He’s looking for any information you can provide on how you made it in and out of the compound this morning.”

“Human trafficking?” David repeated. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” Ali told him.

“Okay then,” David said. “I’ll give him a call.”

As David set off to return the minivan, Ali rang the shelter’s doorbell. After identifying herself over the intercom, the door buzzed open. She found a receptionist seated at a desk just inside. “May I help you?”

“My name is Ali Reynolds. I’m looking for Andrea Rogers.”

“She’s expecting you, Ms. Reynolds, but she’s busy right now. You’re welcome to take a seat.”

“Thanks.”

Ali had just settled down on a nearby sofa when Andrea hurried out into the waiting room through a door controlled by a keypad. Ali was relieved to see that Irene’s Place was serious about security. Considering the dire circumstances surrounding some of the shelter’s clientele, security was essential.

Andrea sank onto the seat next to Ali, shaking her head. “I’m sure it’s been years since either one of those poor girls has had a hot shower. Scrubbing off years of grime takes time. I gave them each a bag filled with toiletries, led them to the shower room, and told them not to rush. I also found a couple of pairs of sweats and scuffs they can put on until we locate something more suitable for them to wear. They’re both terrified, of course, afraid someone’s going to come charging in here to drag them back. They mentioned somebody by name. Amos, I believe.”

“That would be Amos Sellers,” Ali told her.

Andrea looked surprised. “You’ve met him?”

“I’m afraid so. He’s The Family’s chief enforcer.”

“Well,” Andrea continued, “it seems Agnes and Patricia tried running away once before—a long time ago. Amos was sent out to find them and bring them back, which he did, and none too gently, either.”

“Did they come here?” Ali asked. “To the shelter?”

“This happened years ago, long before the shelter existed in its current form. All they had was Irene’s name and phone number. Unfortunately, they were caught before they made contact. When they came here today, they fully expected to find Irene herself. I had to explain that Reenie was gone and that I had taken her place.”

“How did they even know about Irene?” Ali asked.

Andrea shook her head. “I have no idea.”

The doorbell rang. When the receptionist opened the entryway door, a delivery guy came in carrying a bag of Subway sandwiches.

“I sent out for some lunch,” Andrea explained. “I asked what they wanted to eat. They said something soft. They both have severe dental problems. Once we get them decent clothing and have them settled into one of our apartment units, that’s the next thing we’ll tackle—getting them in to see a dentist. Fortunately, we have several who volunteer their services, but if these two are any indication of the kinds of difficulties people from that place are going to be dealing with . . .” She shook her head.

“I suspect there will be a lot more of same,” Ali said. “Have you had any luck finding potential places to stow them if they do show up?”

Andrea sighed. “There’s been such an influx lately. Many of the shelters are full of dumped-off women. They’re not victims of domestic violence per se, but when they’re stranded and penniless in a foreign country with no English, no money, no work skills, and no way to feed their children, what are you going to do, let them starve? Nobody I know in the shelter business is going to turn up their noses and tell them to come back when someone does them the favor of giving them a black eye.”

Ali knew that Arizona and Texas were favorite dumping grounds for impoverished migrant women who were caught in limbo, with no way to return home and no way to survive in the United States without someone stepping up to help them. Andrea Rogers and women like her were the ones who did.

A door leading into the interior of the building cracked open. A woman poked her head out and peered cautiously around the room. “Is it okay if we come out? We’re not really dressed.”

“You’re fine, Patricia,” Andrea assured her, “but if you’d be more comfortable, we can go into my office. It’s a little more private.”

Self-conscious and tentative, the woman edged into the room. There was no way to determine her age. She might have been thirtysomething; she might have been fifty. Streaks of gray shot through dark blond hair that, still dripping wet, had been skillfully braided into a single plait that hung down beyond her waist. The fact that she was missing several teeth made her look older than she was. Years of living outside in all kinds of weather had tanned her skin to the shade of saddle leather and given her a permanent squint.

Ali held out her hand. “I’m Ali Reynolds,” she said. “Irene was a good friend of mine. And your name is?”

Patricia looked down at the proffered hand as if unsure what to do about it. When she finally took it, Ali noticed that the skin was chapped, callused, and tough. This was the hand of someone accustomed to doing hard physical labor.

“Patricia Glenn,” she muttered.

A second woman, one with equally worn and roughened features, stepped into the room. “And I’m Agnes—Agnes Gray,” she said shyly, keeping her eyes downcast and without offering her hand.

Agnes and Patricia were similar enough in looks that they might have been sisters, although Ali thought it more likely that they were cousins of some kind. Like Patricia’s, Agnes’s hair was braided into a single long plait, and she, too, was missing enough teeth that her cheeks sank in on themselves, making her look far older than she was.

Andrea hurried into her small office. Unloading sandwiches from the paper bag, she offered them to Patricia and Agnes as they followed her into the room. Ali, bringing up the rear, was about to close the door behind them when the receptionist buzzed David Upton into the waiting room. Ali beckoned him into the office as well.

“Did you reach Fergus?” she asked as he went past.

David’s reply was a curt nod. Once Patricia caught sight of David, she scrambled around Agnes and grabbed one of his hands in both of hers.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you for bringing us here. It’s like heaven. We even got to take a hot shower.” Then, seemingly embarrassed by having said too much, she moved away and sat down abruptly on one of the visitor’s chairs.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s heaven,” Andrea said briskly, “but it’s the best we can do. Just be assured that we all stand prepared to offer our help to you and to anyone else who may be interested in leaving The Family behind.”

Patricia’s eyes widened. “You’d help other people leave if they wanted to?”

“Yes,” Andrea said. “Are there some of those—people who would like to leave?”

“Maybe.” Patricia spoke warily, as if afraid of saying too much.

“What we need is information,” Ali said, stepping into the conversation. “How many people are involved in all this—how many families and how many women and children?”

“I’m not sure,” Patricia answered. “Once we were brought back, we weren’t allowed to go to church or to any of the gatherings, so it’s hard for us to know exactly how many. I’d guess there are about twenty-five families, maybe more.”

“How are you related to Gordon Tower?” Ali asked.

“My older sister, Margaret, is one of his wives,” Patricia answered. “After Agnes and I ran away, her family wouldn’t take her back and my family wouldn’t have me. Margaret convinced Gordon to let us stay as long as we took care of his pigs and didn’t make any trouble.”

“Which we have, now,” Agnes said quietly. “Made trouble, I mean. If they figure out we helped Enid, we can’t ever go back.”

“You don’t have to,” Andrea assured them.

“What can you tell us about the girls who are called the Not Chosen?” Ali asked.

Agnes and Patricia exchanged a wordless glance. “They go away,” Patricia said finally with a shrug. “Usually in the middle of the night. You wake up in the morning and they’re gone. No one ever sees them again.”

“It happened to my little sisters,” Agnes added in a whisper. “Christina and Donna Marie. Christina was sweet and never caused any trouble, but her eyes were crossed. Boys teased her and told her that her strange eyes made her ugly. She was six when they took her.”

“They?” Ali asked.

Agnes nodded. “Three men came out onto the sleeping porch. One held the door while the other two collected Christina and Donna Marie. They took them out of their beds while they were sleeping. Someone came back later, stripped off their bedding, and gathered up their stuff. I knew about Disappearing Nights—I’d heard about them from the other kids, but that was the first time I’d seen it happen on my sleeping porch. I was already betrothed, so I thought I was safe, but I didn’t dare move or say a word. I stayed like that for a long time after they left, afraid they’d come back for me, too.”

Agnes broke off while two tears dribbled out of her eyes.

“Was there something wrong with Donna Marie, too?” Ali asked gently.

Agnes nodded. “She wouldn’t talk or else she couldn’t. I never knew for sure which it was. I hoped that wherever they went that they were together. Donna Marie could see better than Christina could and Christina did the talking for both of them.”

“How was Donna Marie related to Christina?”

“We’re all half sisters,” Agnes said. “We all had the same father but different mothers. I was older, so I was in charge of looking after them. I cried for days after they went away. My father caught me crying and slapped me silly. He told me that it was God’s will and that the Not Chosens went to a better place. I thought that meant they were dead and had gone to heaven.” She added quietly, “I hope that’s true—that they are in heaven.”

Not prepared to address that issue, Ali turned to Patricia. “Why did you and Agnes run away the first time?”

“We were friends,” Patricia said simply. “She was betrothed to Jack Adams. One day his first wife, Martha, claimed Agnes had sassed her. Most of the time first wives handle those things on their own, but Jack said he’d take care of it himself. He beat Agnes until she could barely move. The next week, Aunt Martha made Agnes go along to the grocery store, even though she was still black and blue all over. There was a woman in the store—someone from Outside—who told her about a woman who would help her if she needed it. She jotted a name and a telephone number on a scrap of paper.”

“Irene’s name?” Ali asked.

Patricia nodded. “We decided to run away together and ask Irene for help. Amos caught us while we were still on the highway.”

“So that’s Amos’s job?” Ali asked. “To bring back runaway kids?”

“To bring back runaway girls,” Patricia corrected. “Boys can leave whenever they want, and most of the time they don’t come back. Unless they’ve been promised a place on the council or as one of the Elders, there’s no reason to.”

“How long has Amos been doing that?”

Patricia shrugged. “A long time. He gets paid for being a deputy, but he also gets paid for catching girls and bringing them home.”

“He’s a bounty hunter, then,” Ali concluded. Patricia frowned as though the terminology was beyond her. Ali rephrased her comment. “What I’m asking is does he get a reward for bringing girls back—a cash award maybe?”

This time Patricia nodded.

“And how many are there?” Ali continued.

“How many Brought Back girls?” Patricia shrugged. “I suppose every household has one or two. After all, everyone has pigs that need looking after.”

“Are there some that Amos misses?” Ali asked. “Some runaway girls who actually get away and don’t come back?”

“A few, I suppose,” Agnes said wistfully.

With every question and answer, a few more pieces of the puzzle shifted into place. Ali was about to ask another question when her phone buzzed in her pocket. With another unfamiliar number on the screen, Ali excused herself and left the office to answer.

“Alison Reynolds?” a voice asked.

“Yes.”

“This is the governor’s office. Would you please hold the line for a call from Governor Dunham?”