6. Daisy
Chapter six
Daisy
“There’s nothing to be done about it now,” Angel says to me as I stare at the topographical map of the national park spread out on the table.
I’m doing my best to calm down by focusing on something other than the news my brother delivered.
I had called him and asked him to tap into the cameras in the local area, hoping we could spot the guy from the diner and run him through a facial recognition program.
Pounding my fist on the table is better than screaming in such small quarters.
“I can’t believe that there isn’t a single camera in any of the campgrounds!
What am I supposed to do? Just wait at the diner until whatshisface comes back and ask to take a selfie with him?
I should have taken a picture of him while I had the chance. ”
Angel holds up one of my smaller black cases. “Can’t you use the little micro-cameras to create your own network of surveillance? They stick to almost any surface, don’t they?”
“There aren’t enough to cover a campground that spans nearly 50 acres. And what about the other six campgrounds in the area? They’re smaller, but….”
Angel interrupts me. “You don’t need to cover the entire area, Daisy.
Just place one or two at the diner, a couple at each entrance to the camping areas, and at least one at every welcome desk.
As for the sites that are already closed for the season, one should do.
Something is better than nothing, and we might catch a break. ”
I blow out a frustrated breath and plant my hands on my hips. “Why do you have to be so smart? Isn’t being drop-dead gorgeous enough for you?”
Angel grins and leans forward on the table. “I’m going to let you in on a secret,” he whispers.
I move in close to hear what he has to say despite it being just the two of us. “What?” I whisper back. “Is it classified?”
“Top Secret.” His eyes dart left, then right to make sure that the coast is clear. “I’m also charming, witty, and compassionate. But shh! Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
I grunt with a hint of laughter behind it. “And very modest.”
“‘Honest’ is the word you’re looking for,” he says while confidently moving across the room to grab our backpacks. “Are you ready to go exploring?”
“Not yet,” I tell him, heading over to one of my rifle cases and removing my KelTec SU16C collapsing rifle.
I fold it up and put it in my backpack, grabbing two pre-loaded magazines.
At less than five pounds, it’s perfect for a survival situation should we find ourselves in trouble.
It’s not competition-level like most of the ones I have in my gun safes at home, but it will take down a bear should we come across one.
“That’s a lot of firepower for exploration,” Angel says.
“You’re just jealous you can’t bring yours without it being obvious about it,” I tease.
Angel is almost as good of a shot as his father, Bill, who is a former Marine sniper.
Bill makes my skills with firearms look like child’s play.
If I were to go toe-to-toe with Angel in a target shootout at 1,000 yards, I can’t guarantee I’d win.
Of course, I’m not going to admit that to him.
Angel pinches his finger and thumb together, leaving a sliver of space between them.
“Just a little jealous.” He opens the door for me, following me to a pair of ATVs parked behind the cabin.
While we can drive to the Stillwaters, the trails that lead into the national park aren’t meant for regular-sized vehicles.
We’ll also cover more ground. Our goal is to scout out as many potential places a person could hide someone for up to a week.
We have only a few days before the 1st of October, which is the earliest any abduction has occurred.
The latest was the 14th. “It’s not surprising that three out of every four abductions have happened over Columbus Day weekend.
With a three-day weekend, more families are likely to go on one last camping trip before the parks close. ”
Angel gets on his ATV, adjusting his backpack and reaching for the helmet behind him.
“I wonder if the date has any significance. Why Columbus Day and not the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, or Labor Day weekends? Those are the busiest times of the year for outdoor activities and ripe for the pickings. And why only nab a teenage girl with black hair and brown eyes? Why not mix it up?”
“In a way, he does,” I reply. I strap on my helmet, but don’t start the engine just yet.
“Black hair and brown eyes are the only connection. But the skin type is anywhere from porcelain white to light brown. Mei Huang is of Chinese descent. Nuri Han—Korean. Eva Vidal—Spanish, as in Spain. Then there’s Cristina Gallo. She’s of Italian ancestry. Me—Russian.”
“I noticed you said ‘is’ and not ‘was’ when referring to the heritage. Do you believe they’re still alive?” Angel asks me.
“I pray they are. When I was taken, the guy who kidnapped me said, ‘Don’t worry, Sadie. You won’t even remember me a year from now.
In fact, you won’t remember your family, your friends, or have any reason to want to come home.
The life you’re about to lead is one full of opportunities.
You should embrace it rather than fear it. ’”
Angel digests what I just told him; the words still burn into my brain like a verbal tattoo. “That’s an odd thing to say if it’s human trafficking.”
I rub my thumb along the edge of the helmet strap.
“I think it’s more than that, Angel. I just can’t figure out exactly what.
How could I ever forget my family or the person who took me without some serious brainwashing?
How could he assume that I wouldn’t want to come home?
No, I think the girls are still alive and groomed for a purpose. ”
“Likely to be subservient,” Angel replies grimly.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, we aren’t going to figure it out by sitting here. Let’s go get Vinny and head out.”
“Daisy, we are not splitting up!” Angel practically shouts while we sit parked at Stillwaters Campground arguing over semantics.
“We’ll cover more ground if we do. Vinny, tell him I’m right!”
Vinny holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to get in the middle of this. You two can figure this out on your own.”
Angel drags a hand down his face. “The walkie-talkies may not have line of sight between the antennas in the mountains. What if you get into trouble and need help but can’t call out?
What if I get into trouble and need help?
Or Vinny? Daisy, you don’t know this area like we do.
It can become quite precarious in an instant. Let one of us go with you.”
“We don’t have time to cover every trail as it is, Angel. We might not even be on the correct side of the crater. Let’s compromise. We can use the comm devices I brought with me. They have a 200-mile range. As long as you don’t go spelunking, then we can still communicate.”
“This isn’t a battle I can win, is it?” Angel asks, resigned.
“Nope,” I say, giving him an award-winning smile. “You’re learning quickly.”
I remove my backpack, digging in the side pouch for the comm devices. Opening the box, I hand one over to Angel and Vinny. “Do you remember how to use these from the op in Colombia?”
“Yeah,” they say in unison. Angel inserts the tiny device into his ear. “We use something similar at the CIA. Not as sophisticated, but close enough. Here’s the deal, Daisy. I want us to be in two-way comms at all times. Otherwise, one of us will go with you.”
“It’s sweet that you’re so protective, but I’ve been doing this by myself for the past 15 years. I’m a big girl, Angel. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Angel’s mouth flattens as his gaze locks onto mine. “I am worried, but not because I think you’re incapable. You’re used to tracking and hunting this guy. This is the first time you’re trying to trap him. That’s far more dangerous.”
“He’s not wrong,” Vinny says. “You’re treading into unfamiliar territory, both literally and figuratively.
While I said I wouldn’t get involved in your spat, I will say that I’d be more comfortable with someone riding along with you, Daisy.
You’re used to working alone, I get that.
And you’re new to the Southern Knights. How long have you worked for them? A year and a half?”
“I’m not sure why my length of employment matters,” I say defensively.
“Angel has been with the CIA for more than a decade. He’s trained for this.
Me, I’ve been doing this kind of work since before you were born.
As often as possible, we work in pairs, and we certainly don’t send a newly-trained operative into the field alone.
They always have a team behind them. Don’t let what you’ve seen on TV fool you into believing otherwise. ”
Repeating Angel’s words from earlier, I say, “This isn’t a battle I’m going to win, is it?”
Vinny chuckles. “Is it one you feel you have to win? If so, ask yourself why that is.”
I don’t have to ask myself a question I already know the answer to.
It’s about my trust issues, which I’ve been working on.
I don’t think I even fully trusted my teammates—my brother and Roger excluded—until I saw them pull together and put everything on the line to save Faith.
It wasn’t until I opened up to Grace about my story that we finally got a lead that might actually put an end to the kidnappings.
A soft voice in the back of my head whispers, “Trust them.”
That voice hasn’t spoken up in 20 years, and the last time was when I was in danger. Whether it’s God, my guardian angel, or my inner subconscious, I know I can trust it. I’ve always believed it’s the former rather than the latter.