Текст книги "Thread of Betrayal"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

FORTY-TWO

Two teenagers were sitting on a green sofa, staring at their phones.

I aimed at the one on the left. “Don’t move.”

Both sat there, frozen as we moved into the room. Anchor floated off to my left, his gun trained on the sofa.

“Who the fuck are you?” said the one on the left. He was eighteen or nineteen. Thin, Hispanic, shaved head, a gold crucifix dangling from his neck.

“Shut up,” I said. “Keep your mouth closed.”

“Room’s clear,” Anchor said.

“On the ground,” I said. “Both of you. Now.”

They looked at each other, then slowly moved to the floor, staring at us.

But not scared.

“Flat,” I said, as they both rested on their hands and knees.

They both flattened themselves to the floor.

I took a quick look around the room. It was an office area. The sofa they were on. A desk off to the left. A couple of generic metal cabinets. A clock on the wall near an empty bulletin board. An open doorway in the back left corner.

“Clear them,” Anchor said. “I’ve got the door.”

I patted down the one closest to me. He was thicker and younger than the one with the crucifix. I ran my hands over his flannel shirt and baggy jeans, checked his ankles near the top of his stark white sneakers. Removed a handgun from his waist and a knife from the ankle. I threw both on the sofa behind me.

“Clear,” I said.

I moved behind them to the one wearing the crucifix. As soon as I bent down to check him, he rolled and tried to back hand me. His hand caught my arm and I drove the butt of the gun into his head, just above his ear. His head fell to the floor, unconscious. I checked him the same way I had the first. I pulled a nearly identical handgun from his jeans and tossed it on the sofa with the others.

“Clear,” I said.

I stepped in front of them and squatted down next to the one who was awake. “A girl was brought here earlier. Where is she?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Take the door,” Anchor said quickly.

I stood and switched positions with him, covering the door at the back of the room.

“Spread your hands on the floor,” Anchor said to him. “Out in front of you.”

The guy hesitated, then did as he was told.

Anchor bent down, pressed the barrel of his gun into the center of the guy’s hand and covered his mouth with his free hand. “One more chance. You fail this one, I will put a hole right in your hand. Then I’ll do the other.” The guy squirmed as Anchor drove the gun harder into his hand. “We clear?”

The guy grimaced and managed a nod.

Anchor pulled his hand away from the guy’s mouth.

“In the back,” he said. “There’s a room at the back of the warehouse.”

“How many others in the building?” Anchor asked.

He hesitated and Anchor twitched like he was about to pull the trigger.

But the guy was just counting in his head. “Six, I think. Plus the girl.”

“Guns?”

The guy nodded.

“Thanks,” Anchor said, then hit him with his gun the same way I’d done the first guy.

The guy’s head dropped to the floor with a thud.

Anchor took the two guns on the sofa and put one in his waistband. He tossed me the other and I did the same with that one. He took the knife and dropped it in his pocket.

I edged toward the door at the back of the room. I pressed up against the wall and took a quick look into the warehouse.

About a dozen rows of floor-to-ceiling metal racks. It was quiet. I didn’t see anyone.

I turned to Anchor and shook my head.

He nodded, pointed at me and held up one finger, pointed at himself and held up two fingers.

I nodded, took a deep breath and stepped into the warehouse, low, my eyes cutting to the right. Anchor stepped in behind me and took the left side. The racks were mostly empty, save for a few boxes. There was a middle aisle about five-feet wide, dividing the room in half.

Anchor and I each kept to our sides, staying low and next to the end racks.

I still didn’t hear anything.

We reached the back of the warehouse and the back wall.

We listened.

Voices toward the far left side.

I pointed in that direction and Anchor nodded.

I went past him and he stayed behind me. A few more steps and I could make out distinct voices. We came to the end of the back wall, but the far side of the building extended back. I stopped at the corner and ducked my head around the corner.

There was a large rectangular office, a room within a room, with a large window, pulled dark with blinds. In front of the office, I counted five people. One female, four males. All in chairs, all in various stages of lounging, save for one guy on the end, a tall, lanky kid in a white T-shirt and black jeans with short black hair and a hard scowl.

The female was without a doubt Netty.

I pulled my head back. “Five in front. Another room behind them.”

Anchor nodded.

A cell phone rang back in the direction of where they were all sitting. I craned my neck as close to the corner as I could get without exposing myself.

“Fuck,” a voice said. “Someone’s here. Jay saw them come in.”

Feet scurried on the ground.

I looked at Anchor.

“Let’s go,” Anchor said. “You take the right. I’ve got the left.”

I spun into the open area and they were all on their feet, maybe a hundred feet away.

I locked eyes with the kid with the hard scowl. “Nobody move.”

For a moment, they froze, staring back at us.

And then they unfroze.

Guns flashed as they all moved and I took a deep breath. I squeezed the trigger and the one kid to the left of the hard scowl dropped. Another one on the other side dropped thanks to Anchor. They all scattered in opposite directions. We held where we were.

Then we heard rapid fire from somewhere behind the room at the back of the warehouse.

“Go,” Anchor said. “Ellis is in. I’m behind you and will cover. Go.”

I stayed low and moved as quickly as I could toward the door, moving my eyes back and forth. I saw a quick flash out to my right and as I turned, felt a burning sensation as a bullet pierced my shoulder. I stumbled, but continued moving forward, a hail of bullets from behind me in the direction of my shooter. The hard scowl fell to the ground, his back soaked in red.

More gunfire behind the room, some yelling off to my left.

I focused on the door.

I got to it, reached for it—ignoring the burning in my shoulder—yanked it open and slid inside.

A thick Hispanic man, early twenties, was standing next to a cot, trying to get his pants up. His black T-shirt was wrinkled across his massive chest and his hair was disheveled, two angry red stripes on one of his cheeks.

Elizabeth was on the cot, on her back, staring at me, eyes wide, her mouth frozen in an oval.

The guy stiffened when he saw me, slowly getting his hands up. “Yo. We’re cool.”

“Don’t fucking move,” I said. “Don’t fucking move.”

“Yo, I got you. I’m not movin’, dude.”

More gunfire exploded outside the room. Elizabeth jerked on the bed, startled by the noise.

I rose out of my crouch slowly, looking at her. “Are you…”

The guy’s foot crashed into my gun hand and the gun clattered to the floor. I stumbled backward against the wall, pain searing through my shoulder as it hit. The guy came at me, snarling, his fists coming fast at my face.

I ducked under the blows, grabbed him around the waist and took him to the floor, dumping him on his back. We hit the ground hard and white heat burned through my shoulder. He was flailing at me with his fists. I found his neck with my hands and squeezed as hard as I could, pushing myself off of him.

Elizabeth was still on the cot, watching us, apparently unable to move, and I had no idea if it was because of me or the man I was fighting with or the gunshots or everything.

The guy clawed at my arms, then started banging away at my shoulder, each strike feeling like a spear into my back. But I kept my hands on his neck and leaned down, his face growing redder.

Elizabeth finally pushed herself up. I could see that her jeans were undone at the waist and her shirt was pushed up.

I looked down at the man beneath me and squeezed harder, the muscles in his neck pulsating against my hands as I cut off his air supply.

No one was going to hurt my daughter again.

Elizabeth scrambled on the bed, fixing her jeans and pulling down her shirt, tears running down her face. “He was going to…”

I tuned her out, focused on the son of a bitch I was choking to death.

His arms started to fall, his hands sliding down my arms, gagging, his eyes fluttering.

The door slammed open behind me.

Anchor stood in the doorway. “We’re clear.”

I squeezed harder.

“If you want him dead, he’s almost there,” Anchor said softly.

Elizabeth was crying, her hands covering her nose and mouth, shaking her head.

Anchor touched my good shoulder. “It’s over, Mr. Tyler. You don’t have to do it.”

My body shook, my hands cramping around the man’s neck. He symbolized everything that had gone wrong for so long. Everyone and everything that had taken part in keeping my daughter from me. I wanted to extinguish it, make it go away forever.

His body started to go limp beneath me.

Anchor put his hand on my wrists. “Let go, Mr. Tyler. You don’t want your daughter to see this.”

Sweat dripped down the back of my neck and I looked at Elizabeth. She was crying, shaking, watching me.

I loosened my grip on his throat, then moved my hands off of him, sitting back.

The room tilted a little.

I reached out to Elizabeth.

“I’m sorry,” I said, the words fat and heavy on my tongue.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out, her own hand quivering as it touched mine.

I wrapped my fingers around hers.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “No one will ever hurt you again, Elizabeth.”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so sorry,” I said one more time before the room tilted to the side and everything went black.

FORTY-THREE

“The question, then, Elizabeth is…what would you like to do?”

We were sitting in a conference room on the fourth floor of the FBI field office, a four-story rectangular building in an office park near Montgomery Field and Kearney Mesa. Lauren and I were on one side of a large glass-covered oak table and Elizabeth was sitting on the other. Special Agent Dorothy Blundell was at the end of the table, smiling sympathetically at my daughter.

Anchor and Kitting had gotten us out of the warehouse. I came to in the parking lot and by that time, there were sirens and lights and all kinds of noise around us. I’d lost a fair amount of blood, but the wound in my shoulder was nothing more than a pretty deep cut. I’d refused transportation to a hospital and they’d patched me up as well as they could on the scene.

As I sat on the curb near the ambulance, I watched everything. Cops brought out the people in the warehouse. Lasko, the officer who’d stopped us, seemed to be running the scene and he gave me a nod at some point. I nodded back.

Anchor apparently called Lauren because she was there, next to Elizabeth, her arm around her, on the opposite side of the lot. Elizabeth looked scared, unsure, completely confused by everything around here.

I didn’t blame her.

Mike Lorenzo showed up, checked to make sure I was okay, then went about calling the people that needed to be called, including federal agents. Technically, abducted children fell under their jurisdiction and he knew that he had to involve them in order to get Elizabeth back to us. So he’d made the calls and got them to the scene.

I saw Bazer momentarily and wondered why he was there. Then realized that because he was tied to the AMBER Alert, he’d come to the scene. Or maybe Mike had called him. I didn’t know.

I stared at him while his eyes surveyed the scene. He finally saw me and stopped.

We stared at each other for a moment, but his expression gave away nothing.

Then he nodded at me and I lost him in the chaos.

Anchor and Kitting were over in another corner of the lot, answering questions. I wasn’t worried about them. They could handle themselves. I’d thank them another day.

After an hour or so, Blundell came over, introduced herself and suggested that we all go into the office to sort things out. She asked again if I wanted to go to the hospital and I told her no.

“I just want to be with my daughter,” I told her.

So Lauren, Elizabeth and myself rode with her and two other agents back up to Kearney Mesa, a silent drive that felt awkward and odd and nothing like what I’d imagined it would be in all the times I’d thought about reuniting with Elizabeth. Lauren sat with me in the back row of the SUV, her fingers intertwined with mine, her eyes transfixed on Elizabeth. Elizabeth sat up in the row in front of us with another agent, her head leaning against the window. Blundell was in the passenger seat and the third agent drove.

And after another hour of sitting and waiting while Blundell presumably tracked down the details of the entire story, she came back into the room and told us that everything did, indeed, check out.

She was Elizabeth Tyler and we were her parents.

Blundell said “The question, then, is Elizabeth…what would you like to do?”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat, chewing on her lip for a long moment. “What do you mean?”

Blundell leaned forward on the table. She had short blond hair and a kind face, not what you’d expect from a federal agent. “I mean that a lot has been thrown at you today. For the last few days, actually. The most important thing here is how you feel and what you want to do.”

Elizabeth stared at her hands. They were folded in front of her on the table and I wanted to reach out and cover them with mine. But I didn’t. And she didn’t say anything.

“We can do one of three things,” Blundell said, her voice soft. “And we’ll leave the choice to you.”

I shifted in my chair, my shoulder reminding me that it hurt.

“One, because you’re a minor we can put you in custodial care,” Blundell said. “That would mean a temporary stay with a foster family. While I’m not sure that’s what I’d recommend, it is an option.”

Elizabeth was still staring at her hands. She looked so much like a younger version of Lauren. So much more grown up.

“Two, we can return you to the Corzine family, temporarily,” Blundell continued. “They have been your family of record for some time, you know them as your family and you are entitled to go back to them if you choose.” Blundell glanced at us. “Because Elizabeth is sixteen, while still a minor, she can choose to go back to them, even if that stay is only temporary while the legal details are worked out.”

My stomach churned. My shoulder throbbed.

Blundell turned back Elizabeth. “Or you may choose to stay here with the Tylers. From everything we’ve seen, they are your legal parents and you were abducted from them here in San Diego. I see no reason that, after the legalities are worked through, that you won’t be returned to them.”

Lauren’s knuckles were white on the arm of her chair.

Blundell unfolded and refolded her hands. “Elizabeth, I know you’ve been through a lot. And there are going to be a lot more questions. People are going to want to talk to you about what happened. What you’ve been through. And I’m not going to lie to you. Some of that might not be very fun for you…most of it, probably. But I want you to have a voice in this. I don’t want to just force all of this on you. So I think it’s important to find out what you’d like to do.”

Elizabeth was still staring at her hands, her head down, but she gave a little nod.

Lauren glanced at me. I just shrugged, the tape on my shoulder blade pulling at my skin. I knew what I wanted Elizabeth to say. I knew what Lauren wanted her to say. We both had a million questions. But, Blundell was right. Elizabeth needed to have a voice in this.

Elizabeth finally lifted her head, looked at Blundell. “Can I call my….” She stopped, glanced at us, then looked back to Blundell. “Can I call home? To Minnesota?”

My stomach sank and I knew Lauren’s did, too.

Blundell nodded. “Of course. They’re aware you’re here and I’m sure they’d like to talk to you. Would you like some privacy?”

Elizabeth hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Please.”

Blundell stood and swung her gaze toward us. “Mr. and Mrs. Tyler. Why don’t we step out for a few minutes and grab some coffee?”

Lauren and I both stood. My shoulder hurt, but the pain in my chest and stomach hurt more. I didn’t want to walk out of the room. I didn’t want to let Elizabeth out of my sight.

“I’m going to get her set up on the phone and then I’ll be out,” Blundell said, opening the door.

Lauren and I walked out like prisoners to an execution. Blundell closed the door behind us.

“I’m not letting her go anywhere,” Lauren whispered, tears in her eyes. “I’m not. I’ll follow her back to Minnesota if I have to. I don’t care.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t care what that woman says,” Lauren said, cutting her eyes to the door. “I won’t let her go.”

“She’s right,” I said. “She should have a voice.”

“Bullshit,” Lauren hissed at me. “She’s our kid. She doesn’t belong to that family in Minnesota or anyone else.”

Before I could say anything else, the door opened and Blundell stepped into the hallway.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that was uncomfortable.”

“You think?” Lauren asked.

Blundell pursed her lips. “Yes. I’m sure it was. But I think it’s important to let her make some decisions here.”

“She’s our daughter,” Lauren said, folding her arms across her chest. “Period.”

“I agree,” Blundell said. “I was pretty thorough in checking everything through. I’m sorry for what you’ve had to endure.” She looked at each of us carefully. “But I think it’s important to consider her feelings right now. The trauma she’s gone through is nothing short of devastating. She clearly has some memory gaps, probably self-induced to protect herself after the abduction. Right now, she isn’t sure of anything. Forcing her to do anything might be counterproductive.”

She wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t said to families in the past. She was right. But it was harder to hear being on the other side.

“Legally, there’s no question she’s going to end up with you,” Blundell said. “None. But she’s a sixteen-year-old girl and she’s scared and confused. Let’s give her some breathing room. It will make things easier for her. And she really is the most important person in all of this.”

Lauren gave a disgusted sigh and stared at the ground.

But I knew Blundell was right.

Even if it made me want to scream.

Blundell started to say something else, but stopped when the doorknob turned behind her. She stepped out of the way.

The door opened slowly and Elizabeth timidly stuck her head out into the hallway. “I’m done.”

Blundell smiled at her. As difficult as everything was, I liked Blundell. She was smart and doing her best to make Elizabeth feel comfortable.

“Were you able to reach the Corzines?” Blundell asked.

Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah. I talked to them.”

We all waited for more.

Elizabeth looked first at Lauren, then at me, maybe sizing us up, maybe trying to remember us. I wasn’t sure.

“I told them I needed to do something,” she said, looking at me. “With you guys.”

I let out a sigh and it felt as if I’d been holding my breath forever. I felt Lauren do the same next to me.

“Anything,” I said, my voice hoarse, my throat dry and tight. “We can do anything you want.”

“Can we go see…” Tears welled in her eyes. “Can we go see the house?”

FORTY-FOUR

Agent Blundell arranged a loaner Bureau vehicle for us.

Lauren drove, as my shoulder was stiffening up and I wasn’t sure I could turn the wheel. Elizabeth sat in the front seat next to her and I was in the back.

We headed down I-15, southward out of Kearney Mesa, then cut through Mission Valley on Interstate 8 before we joined up with the slow-going I-5 again. Traffic wasn’t as knotted as it might have been. We passed all of the San Diego landmarks—the Chargers stadium, Old Town, the airport, downtown—and I couldn’t help but wonder if Elizabeth remembered any of them.

Lauren moved over as we swung past downtown and took the exit for the bridge, taking us high over the bay. Elizabeth was looking out her window, at the water down below, back toward the downtown skyline. I tried to recall the first time I’d driven over the bridge with her as a kid, but couldn’t pull the memory.

“It’s an island,” Elizabeth said quietly and it wasn’t a question.

“It is,” Lauren answered. “We’ve always lived here.”

Elizabeth didn’t say anything.

Lauren navigated the narrow streets of Coronado, turned the corner into the neighborhood and pulled slowly into the driveway. The last time I’d been there I’d nearly collapsed in the drive, overwhelmed by the memories after having been gone so long.

We all got out.

My shoulder ached as I stood there next to the car, squinting into the early evening sun. Lauren came around next to me. Elizabeth stayed close to the car, then stepped tentatively into the yard.

“I’m going to go inside,” Lauren said. “I’ve been gone for a few days. Just to open up the doors and windows.” She smiled faintly at Elizabeth. “So you can see your room again. Your home.”

Elizabeth looked at her, tried to smile, then nodded.

We both watched her walk toward the house and disappear inside.

Elizabeth stared at the house. I stood next to her, unsure of what to say, what to do. I shoved my hands in my pockets and felt something metal. The bracelet Bryce had given me. I fished it out and held it out to Elizabeth.

“Bryce asked me to give this to you,” I said.

She reached for it and our fingers touched. I wanted to grab her hand, pull her to me, wrap her in a hug and never let go. But I didn’t.

“Thanks,” she said, fingering the charms on the bracelet. She clenched it in her hand but didn’t put it on.

We were quiet for a few more minutes before she spoke.  “Someone told me the house burned down. A woman, I think.”

“It didn’t,” I said. “It’s always been here.”

“She told me my parents died,” she said, still staring at the house. “I think she did, anyway. It’s all weird. In my head. Like, I haven’t thought about any of this in so long and now it’s showing up in my head.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “There are a lot of things to sort out. You don’t have to remember or force anything.”

Elizabeth took a few more steps into the yard, the grass fading from green to brown. Then she turned around.

“I was right about here,” she said to me.

Tears filled my eyes. I remembered it like it was yesterday. I nodded.

“You went inside, right?” she said. “We were doing Christmas decorations?”

I nodded again, my breath catching, my vision blurring.

“I didn’t want to go,” she said, her voice cracking.

I took a couple steps toward her.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get back,” she said, tears once again running down her cheeks.

I walked over to her, hesitated, then put my arms around her, pulled her close to me. Smelled her hair, felt it brush against my face. So much taller than when she’d been taken, but still so familiar.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get back,” she said, shaking against me. “I remembered wanting to be back with my Daddy. But she told me you were gone.”

That word. Daddy. That was the one that cut the tears loose in my eyes, the one that made my chest ache, made my heart flutter.

And told me we’d be okay.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay,” she whispered back.

It wasn’t. I still didn’t know if Elizabeth wanted to be with us, if she’d choose to stay in San Diego or if she’d want to return to the Corzines. I still resented the fact that we’d missed almost a decade together, years that we could never, ever get back. And, more than anything, I still needed to know what happened. Who had taken her from right where we were standing.

And I would make sure that whoever had taken her, whoever had broken my family, whoever had played a part, I would make sure that they would pay.

I would be coming for them and they would pay.

But at that moment, all I wanted was to hold my daughter.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice broken.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said. “Not one single thing. Nothing is your fault. Nothing.”

She nodded and her tears soaked my shirt, wet against my chest.

We stood there for a long time.

Finally, she said, “Can we go inside? I…I want to see everything.”

I gently pulled away from her, but kept my arms around her.

She looked up at me, her eyes red and tired.

I took my thumb and wiped it gently beneath her eye, pushing the tears out of the way.

She smiled at me.

My daughter smiled at me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling at her through my tears. “Let’s go inside.”

THE END