Chapter 21 #3
I suspected his plan was to walk around the other side of the store and use the shadows to hide him as he crossed to the back of the parking lot, then sneak up on the driver from behind.
Was he feeling up to it? Would his concussion throw him off?
I had to trust he knew what he was doing …
and hope to hell I could uphold my end of the bargain.
The girl still hadn’t gotten out of the car, but the guy remained in the front seat, his phone to his ear.
Great. Was he alerting someone that the girl had taken too long inside and run out of the store? What excuse had she given him? Had she told him the truth?
I wasn’t worried about myself. I was worried about the girl. Trafficked young people were trained to avoid questions and stay within sight of their handler. Even if he hadn’t seen me, he could have realized she was talking to someone.
What if she hadn’t told him I’d approached her, and he thought it was the other way around?
Stewing about it wasn’t going to do me any good. And neither would sitting in the passenger seat of this car.
I considered moving the car closer to the trucks, but I still didn’t know where Creeper planned to have her work. There were three rows of trucks, and she could be going to any one of them. Besides, I wanted to see what he did when she got out of the car.
I didn’t have to wait long. Less than ten seconds later, the back door opened. She climbed out slowly, then shut it behind her.
The guy got out and stepped up beside her, speaking to her aggressively based on the hate on his face.
Her entire body trembled as she nodded.
He grabbed her arm and dragged her closer until their faces were inches apart, his mouth moving, still threatening or berating her. Then he gave her a vicious shove. She stumbled back, nearly falling, but caught herself and took off toward the row of trucks closest to his car.
He stayed planted in front of the car, watching until she passed the front of the truck on the end before he got back in.
If I headed that direction, he’d see me, which meant I needed to move my car.
But would he notice? Or, more to the point—would he see me as a threat?
An innocent-looking blond woman alone in a car.
He probably figured I wasn’t likely to notice anything.
Still, he might get twitchy if I drove in that direction seconds after she walked that way.
But if I went inside the store before I left, he probably wouldn’t think twice about it. If he was paying attention to me at all.
I got out of the car and walked to the front of the store, putting myself out of his line of sight.
The trucks were parked at an angle away from the building, so I couldn’t see the girl, but the driver’s side window on the first truck rolled down and the trucker leaned out as if he was talking to someone.
Seconds later, the window went up and his head disappeared.
When I didn’t see the door open, I realized he must have sent her away.
Thank God. Because if I saw her get into a truck cab, the driver was going to wish he’d never met me.
I couldn’t see her, but I suspected she was heading to the next truck. It felt too soon to move my car, but what if the second truck driver took her up on her offer? I couldn’t stand the thought of one more pervert putting his grubby hands on her.
I hurried back to the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
Creeper was still in his car, his attention fixed on the trucks, which meant James hadn’t made his move.
I backed out of the space and headed between the first and second row of trucks, although the second and third row had fewer trucks. As I drove past the second truck in line, I saw her standing on the running board, looking up as she spoke to the drive through the open window.
Feeling a sense of urgency, I parked in an empty spot in the third row, several spaces away from the last truck. Someone might say something to me about parking in an eighteen-wheeler spot, but I didn’t plan on being there long enough for it to matter.
I got out and jogged along the back row of trucks. When I was a few spaces from the end, I cut across to the second row, crouching to see if I could spot her legs beneath the trailers. She’d made it to the third truck.
I’d planned to just intercept her, but Creeper was watching too closely. He’d notice if she started lingering between trucks. But if she got in the cab? He’d be less suspicious. It would be like business as usual.
Taking a chance, I slipped between two rigs and moved toward a cab two trucks down from the last one I’d seen her approach.
I climbed up on the running board and knocked on the window. The seat was empty, but I could see a light on in the sleeper section in the back. I knocked again, and a few seconds later, an older man leaned forward between the seats. He saw me and made a face.
“I ain’t interested, honey,” he said from behind the glass. “Besides, ain’t you too old to be turnin’ tricks?”
Compared to the girl who was now one truck over, I probably was.
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said, keeping my voice low. I was pretty sure he couldn’t hear me, which is likely why he climbed into the front seat and lowered his window, looking like he already regretted it.
“See that girl over there?” I kept my head angled down in case Creeper was looking this way. “She’s been trafficked, and I’m trying to get her out.”
His eyes flew wide. “Did her family hire you to save her?”
If only.
“Something like that,” I said, because sadly, he’d probably think she had greater worth if someone was willing to pay me money to bring her home. “But her handler is over there in that white car watching.”
He glanced in that direction, his jaw tightening. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to let her into your truck.”
His mouth fell open, and he shook his head. “What? No! I’m a happily married man, and I ain’t into that stuff.”
“I know.” I kept my voice even. “That’s why I approached you.” Total lie. “But I need you to let me in first. Then, when she approaches, you let her in and I’ll convince her to come with me.”
His face pinched. “Why wouldn’t she want to go with you?”
I did not have time for this. “Because she doesn’t know me,” I said. “I’m a PI who was hired to bring her home, remember? But who knows what she’s been through. Maybe even brainwashing. It’s going to take some convincing to get her to leave with a complete stranger.”
Through his side window, I could see she was still talking to the driver of the rig next to this one—a rough-looking guy in his late twenties or early thirties. The way he was eying her told me everything. She was going to get into a truck cab, but it wasn’t going to be this one.
Dammit.
The older trucker frowned. “I don’t know about this. Maybe we should just call the police.”
This was getting worse by the second. “No police. By the time they get here, her handler will know something’s up, force her into his car, and take off.” I took a chance and lifted the edge of my jacket. “I’m armed and can handle him if I need to, but I’d rather do this quietly and avoid a scene.”
He still didn’t look convinced, but thankfully, he didn’t seem spooked by my gun.
The guy in the next truck was opening his door.
“Fuck me,” I muttered and hopped off the running board.
“Such vulgar language!” the older trucker called after me as I ran to the front of the truck and peeked around the corner to see if James had taken care of the handler.
Creeper was still in the driver’s seat, his gaze focused on the truck the girl had climbed into. If I tried to get her out, Creeper would see. But there was no way in hell I was going to stand here and let that girl have sex with yet another pedophile.
“Dammit, James,” I muttered. What was taking him so long?
Then I saw him lurking by a dumpster about ten feet from the car.
Maybe James needed a distraction. Letting Creeper see me might not be such a bad thing after all.
I stomped around the front of the truck, making sure Creeper saw me as I walked up to the driver’s door of the truck and jumped up on the running board, noticing the elaborate artwork of a dragon on the side panel.
I didn’t see anyone in the front seats, so I started pounding on the window with both fists.
When there was no response, I slammed my fists against the glass again and shouted, “I saw that girl go into your truck! If she’s not out in five seconds, I’m calling the police! ” I beat on the window again.
Creeper had noticed the commotion. He got out of his car and stalked to the front of his car, looking like he was about to head this way and confront me.
James snuck up behind him until he was about a foot away. Creeper stiffened, and seconds later, James steered him toward the trunk, following closely behind him.
Time to get the girl out of here.
I pulled my gun and held it up to the window, hoping the trucker could see it. “Asshole, I’ve got a gun and you don’t send that girl out here, I’ll use it!”
“You can’t shoot me back here,” he shouted from the sleeper section, his voice muffled by the glass.
“Maybe not,” I shouted. “But I can shoot your fancy paint job! Or I can run this barrel down the side and add a little artwork of my own.”
“I’ll call the police, lady!” he called out.
“And I’ll tell them you’re trying to have sex with a thirteen-year-old girl,” I shot back. “Maybe I should call them myself and give them your license plate number. That way they won’t have any trouble finding you.”
He scrambled to the front, bare-chested, but thank God, still wearing pants. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done to him if he’d already molested her.
“I didn’t know she was thirteen, honest to God!” he shouted, his eyes wide with panic. “She told me she was seventeen!”
“That’s still underage, you fucking pervert. Where is she?”
He shot a disgusted look over his shoulder. “She’s freakin’ out in the back.”
“Open your door,” I said, my voice full of menace.
“No way!” he barked. “You’ve got a gun!”
“I just want the girl. Send her out, and I’ll leave you alone.” I hated that I was letting him off, but what could I do? Actually call the police? They wouldn’t do anything without proof, and besides, after Natalie’s news about all the dirty cops on the force, I couldn’t trust them.
The truck driver turned and snarled at the back, “Get the fuck out of my truck! I’m not gettin’ shot over you!”
I leveled the gun, pointing it at his face through the glass. “If you talk to her like that again, my no-shooting-you rule will fly right through this fucking window.”
He held up his hands, fear washing over his features.
She suddenly appeared behind him, mascara tear streaks tracking down her cheeks. Thank God, she was still clothed too.
I swung my glare back to him. “Did you hurt her?”
He shook his head hard. “I didn’t touch her, lady! We just got started, then you were bangin’ on the window!”
Her eyes widened when she recognized me. Then they dropped to the gun. She shrank back.
“Roll down the window,” I said to the driver, rapping the butt of my gun on the glass. “I need to talk to her.” When he looked like he was going to say no, I leveled the gun on him.
The window started to lower, but only halfway.
That was all I needed.
She was still between the seats, frozen with fear.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “You’re safe. But we need to go. Now.”
“Go where?” she asked, her voice shaking.
It occurred to me that she might come easier if she thought she was doing what she was supposed to do. “Back to the house,” I said, praying she was kept in a house.
She seemed to relax slightly. “What happened to Buddy?”
“He’s indisposed,” I said. “I’ve been sent to bring you back.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know you.”
“I know. I’m new—from another house. There wasn’t time for me to meet all the girls. But we really need to go.”
“But we just started,” she whispered, tears spilling again. “I haven’t hit my minimum yet.”
The trucker shoved his door open, and I slid sideways before it knocked me off the running board. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.” Then he turned back to her. “Get out!”
I’d jumped to the ground. I was about to climb back up, but the girl scrambled over him and nearly fell out of the cab, face-first onto the pavement. I caught her with my free hand and held her arm until she found her footing.
She pulled free and rushed to the front of the truck, eyeing the Buick, then froze when she saw James sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Where’s Buddy?” she asked, shaking like a leaf.
“I told you. He’s indisposed. We need to go. Now.”
She pivoted to look up at me, terror in her eyes. “Are the police really comin’?”
I suspected her fear of law enforcement would get her moving. “Yeah. Which is why we need to go. But not with that guy in Buddy’s car. You’re supposed to come with me.”
Her gaze dropped to the gun in my hand. When she nodded, I struggled to hide my relief. I led her to the row behind the truck, moving fast. Thankfully, she kept up.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said, crying again as we made it to the lane and walked quickly toward my car. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“You won’t be in trouble,” I promised. “I was sent to get you. We just need to hurry.”
When we reached the car, she automatically reached for the handle of the back door. I suspected she always rode in the back, staying out of sight.
I slid behind the wheel, slipped my gun back into its holster, and started the engine. Seconds later, James pulled the white Buick up beside me, facing the opposite direction so the driver’s side windows lined up. We rolled down our windows at the same time.
“Good thinkin’ with the distraction,” he said.
“Thought I’d speed things along,” I said, keeping my voice down.
His gaze flicked to the backseat window, then back to me with a questioning look.
“We’re good,” I said. “I told her Buddy is indisposed.”
He gave a slow nod of understanding. “Be careful.”
“You too,” I managed, pushing down my nerves. Things had gone well up until this point. I had to trust they’d keep going that way.
He gave me a grim smile, then rolled up his window and drove off.