Chapter 3 Spencer #2
“We’re not leaving without Jade.” The little girl's voice is strong even though I can see the fear shining in her eyes. The girl behind her nods in agreement, as do most of the others.
“Who’s Jade?” Rick asks before I can. Though it’s probably for the best, his calm demeanor will most likely get us answers.
“She's the oldest of us. She was here long before we were.” The older girl behind her answers. Her voice wobbles as she talks about how long this Jade girl has been here. She can’t seem to meet Rick’s eyes as she speaks to him, preferring to look down at her lap.
“She takes care of us! We can’t leave without her!
” the young girl screams at Rick, new tears streaming down her cheeks.
The older girl grabs her shoulder in support and whispers reassurances about how Jade won't be left behind, but the young girl breaks down even further, turning around and curling up into the older girl's arms again.
Rick's gaze meets mine, and I can see the questions burning in his eyes, but they’ll have to wait. Right now, we need to talk with Trent and get to the bottom of this. Besides, he’s a smart guy. I’m sure he’s already figured out what’s happening here. He’s probably just hoping he’s wrong.
That makes two of us.
I turn away from Rick and avoid Zander’s eyes, all of this can all be handled later.
I stomp over to where Trent stands with another officer by his cruiser. The urge to knock him the fuck out is strong as I see him standing there, looking like he didn’t give a shit what the girl was freaking out about. What a great cop he is. Not.
“You missed someone, Trent,” Zander tells him before I get to, the tone of his voice letting me know he’s just as upset as I am. Yeah, this whole night quickly turned into a giant ball of fucked up. Yet, I can’t help but be happy we’re here.
What if we hadn’t been? Would they have shut those girls away and left their friend, another victim, behind? Would the guy they let get away continue this bullshit, finding new girls? Would he have tried to come back for these girls?
I shake my head as the what-ifs stack up in my brain. Now's not the time, and we are here, so the what if’s don’t matter, regardless of how bad they piss me off.
“Not possible. We swept the whole building multiple times.” The officer next to Trent pipes up, and I notice him for the first time.
He’s an older man, and I let out a huff as I look him over.
I just know he’s going to be a fucking problem.
The older ones always are. They think they can do whatever they want and that Froggie is nothing but a common criminal.
Oh, how wrong they are. If he’s looking for a lesson he won’t soon forget, I’m definitely up to teach him it tonight.
Rick must sense what I’m thinking and waves me off. He turns back to Trent, completely ignoring the other officer as if he hadn’t spoken.
“You missed someone in your search, Trent.” His words leave no room for argument. I’ve always admired just how well Rick can command those around him. It’s gotten us out of our fair share of sticky situations over the years, and somehow, it still makes me envious every time.
When the old man opens his mouth again, Trent raises his hand, cutting him off. I have no doubt he would have had some colorful words for Rick. The dumbass would have been in for a rude awakening.
I catch Zander’s pout out of the corner of my eye and know he’s come to the same conclusion. The idea of Rick laying this guy out probably had Zan ready to squeal in excitement, but Trent just ensured that won’t be happening.
Trent turns to the old man, “Prepare the team to do another search.”
This time, I can’t hold back the chuckle as the old man's face morphs into a look of outrage. “Sir, we swept it three times, and I’m telling you, nobody’s in that building.”
Before Trent gets a chance to respond, Rick’s on him.
He grips him up by the front of his shirt, easily hauling him up in the air until the tips of his toes just barely touch the ground.
Rick is a big ass mother fucker, always has been, but still, it surprises people just how easily he can throw grown men around.
It still shocks me sometimes, and I’ve been on the receiving end of his throwing around more times than I can count.
The old man’s eyes widen before darting to Trent as if he believes he’ll help him. Spoiler alert: he won’t. Trent may hate us, but he knows how this works, and I get the sinking suspicion he wants to stay alive more than he wants to stand up to us tonight.
He also seems to realize this and turns his attention back to Rick.
“Listen and listen well because I will only be saying this once. You and your team missed someone, and nobody leaves until they’re found.
” Then, in one swift motion, Rick pulls his gun from his side holster and pushes the barrel up under his chin.
I didn’t think the guy's eyes could get any bigger, but man, I was wrong.
“So there are two ways this can be handled. The first is you open your fucking mouth instead of preparing your team, and I shoot you right here. Then we go find the girl that you morons seemed to have missed multiple times.” He presses his gun further into the fat under his chin, causing him to let out a pathetic whimper.
“Or you can do it as you’re told and get your team ready to go back in with us.
Then, we can find the girl, and you can go home.
Be a hero to your wife and two daughters.
And I can go home and sleep without needing to dry clean my clothes to handle your brain matter.
” His voice gives nothing away. Steady as always.
Honestly, I think it’s one of the things that make Rick even more intimidating—his lack of emotion.
He doesn’t actually lack them; he’s just great at hiding them, which makes him unpredictable.
“What will it be, Officer Darnell?”
One of the many perks of Rick’s dad being the police chief is that he knows everyone, and I can get to know anyone he doesn’t know through the police database.
Rick releases him without waiting for a response.
There’s only one option, and the old man knows it as well as we do.
He manages to stay on his feet instead of falling to the ground like I thought he would.
After a second, he opens his mouth and starts barking orders for his team to get ready to head back in before walking away without so much as a glance at any of us.
“Was that necessary?” Trent asks the moment he’s gone.
“Keep your men in line, and I won't have to, Trent,” Rick spits the words at him before he turns back to us.
“Let's see if the little girl knows where this Jade could be. If they swept the building three times, I have a feeling she isn’t just hiding in a corner.” We nod and turn away from Trent without another word, heading back to the van.
As we approach the van, Rick calls Zander over with a nod.
“Sure thing, boss man,” Zander says as he skips past us to talk to the girl. Zander is like a ball of energy, albeit psychotic energy, but energy nonetheless, and because of that, he usually does pretty well with kids. So if she’s going to talk to any of us, he has the highest odds.
We stay off to the side of the van while he talks to her, not wanting to be a distraction or possibly keep her from talking at all. We may be the things that go bump in the night for most men, but they deserve it. These kids didn’t deserve this.
It only takes a few minutes before Zan returns, but I swear it felt like hours. All I want to do is go in and get this girl out of what must be her own living hell.
“So, apparently, this building goes farther in the ground than it goes up. There are a lot of floors below, and while they aren’t sure how many, they let me know the lowest possible one has an office.
The office belonged to the guy who the cops picked up.
I guess he was the head honcho around here.
” His words are clipped, and gone is the smile he had for the sake of the girls.
Zander is usually unbothered by most things.
He’s bright and bubbly, like a freaking golden retriever, and not a lot gets to him, but I’m happy to see he’s taking this seriously.
“There should be a large desk in the office. Under the desk is a trapdoor that leads to what they called the pit.” He cringes as he says it.
I’m not sure if the girls gave him details about said ‘pit’ or if he’s just uncomfortable at the idea of someone being in a hole in the ground called the pit. Just thinking about it myself makes my stomach roll and my temper flare.
Zander and I both look at Rick. His jaw’s clenched so hard I worry he might crack a tooth, but other than that, he gives nothing away about how he’s feeling.
He turns and walks away, back towards the building, passing cop after cop as they putz around in a half-assed effort to get ready to go back in. We don’t stop to talk to them or wait for them to be ready.
As if rehearsed, we all unholster our guns and enter the building. After years of working together, living together, and damn near sharing everything, we often operate without the need for direction in high-stress situations.
Rick effortlessly leads us to the stairwell, telling me he did his homework before this stakeout.
Usually, I’d give him shit for something like that.
Why do you need to know the layout of a building you were assigned to watch only from the outside?
But tonight, I get to eat that thought. This is an excellent example of why, and by him being ready, we’re able to be more efficient.