Four #2
Melody’s face filled the screen, eyes bright with the hard glint of someone who had chased down too many bad guys to be easily rattled.
“We were at one of the smaller agencies, just about to head out after striking out on records, when the receptionist stopped us. She looked nervous, like she was debating whether to speak up, but then she pulled us aside. She told us about a guy who used to work there—Jared Leader.”
Trevor’s pulse quickened. He had a gut feeling this name would stick.
“She said Leader tried to date her a few years back,” Melody continued, her tone tightening.
“When she turned him down, he made this weird, offhand comment—said that if she ever found herself needing some extra cash, she could get pregnant on the sly and they could adopt the baby out for a mint. Said it like it was a joke, but when she told him she was a Christian and found it offensive, he just laughed it off. But it clearly stuck with her. Gave her a bad feeling she couldn’t shake. ”
“Creepy,” Emmett muttered. “That’s the kind of thing that lingers.”
“Exactly,” Melody said, her expression darkening. “She realized later that maybe he wasn’t joking. Maybe he was testing the waters to see if she’d be a willing accomplice or if she’d stay quiet. Either way, it’s a red flag.”
Trevor felt the pieces clicking into place. “Leader has to be the ringleader and maybe he’s our ‘Trigger,’ or at least a major player in this. We finally have a real name. That’s more than we had yesterday.”
Emmett nodded, the grim satisfaction of progress clear in his eyes. “Eva’s pulled some family connections for him. I put some pressure on his aunt and she confessed that she offered Leader her house in Denver while she summered in Texas.”
Trevor exhaled, the ticking clock and uncertainty settling like a splinter in his chest. “Mia could be there—in the aunt’s house.
It’s the same area that the OBGYN Derek Rolls had set up a private clinic.
” Disgraced OB Derek Rolls. They’d homed in on him as a major player in the ring after discovering a house in Colorado Springs that he was using as a free clinic.
DNA from one of the victims, Nina Olson, had been found there.
Those poor girls. They were already helpless and alone. These people were the lowest of low.
Emmett glanced around the grid of faces on the screen. “It’s a strong possibility.” His voice dropped a fraction. “Let’s take a moment for Mia and pray for her and the family and our mission.”
Heads bowed, and a heavy silence fell over the call, broken only by the faint hum of background noise from various offices and kitchens.
Trevor closed his eyes, the faces of the victims flashing behind his lids.
Their lives cut short, their futures stolen.
He whispered a silent plea for Mia, for the Andrews family, for the strength to see this through.
When he opened his eyes, the others were already looking up, determination hardening their expressions.
“We’ll meet in one hour and set up a sting operation,” Emmett said, his tone low but fierce, the leader they needed him to be. “All hands on deck for this one.” He looked at Trevor. “You good with your arson case? Helena safe?”
Trevor nodded. “For now. She’s at the shop at the PD going over a new victim’s burned-out vehicle. She’ll be safe there. See you in an hour.”
After the video call ended, Trevor called Helena. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“You find anything?” he asked.
“Not much, but Chuck just stopped in to tell me they got dental records. The victim is Kendra Rowe. Twenty. Started her senior year at Lavender University. That’s all I know for now. I’m just the forensic mechanic.”
“I got a call from him. Chuck’s a good detective. I like working with him. You can trust him. Look, I have to chopper to Denver. We think we know where Mia Andrews might be held. We’re setting up a sting. I’m not your boss, but with everything going on, I’d love it if you could hang around the PD.”
“Actually, I agreed to meet my uncle for an early dinner, late lunch. I’ll be safe. Do you know how long you’ll be?”
“No idea, to be honest. Hopefully, it’ll be in and out and we’ll bring Mia out safely and put the ringleader of this case and all his minions in prison.”
“Praying for all your safety and that Mia is brought home and delivered to her family.” Helena knew a bit about the case Trevor was working and the task force’s goal to find the missing pregnant teen.
“I’ll be with my uncle and then back here to work on Kendra’s car.
Chuck says he’s running the partial initials on the tie clip with anyone employed at the university. Maybe we’ll catch a break.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice. See you soon. I’ll call you when it’s finished.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Trevor ended the call and he and Lark grabbed gear and drove to the landing strip where the helicopter Dodger had commissioned awaited them.
If this didn’t work out… He didn’t want to think of what might happen to Mia if they didn’t find her.
* * *
Trevor crouched beside the armored vehicle, the muffled murmur of the task force settling around him like the low rumble of an approaching storm.
He kept his eyes fixed on the narrow two-story house at the end of the block, its chipped paint and sagging gutters giving it the same tired, forgotten look as the other homes lining the cracked pavement.
But the tension winding through his muscles told him this place held far more than peeling paint and broken shutters.
The K-9s stood ready, their noses twitching, bodies coiled with the electric anticipation of the hunt.
Lark, beside him, tilted her head toward the house, her chocolate-spotted coat gleaming in the morning light, her tail held high and rigid.
That alone set his nerves on edge. River’s yellow lab, Frankie, a search and rescue dog, was trained to find Mia’s scent, and her lack of a signal was a silent, weighty confirmation of their deepest fear—the girl wasn’t there.
Trevor’s earpiece crackled to life, Emmett Dane’s steady, low voice cutting through the ambient rustle of the morning. “Team, in position. We breach on my mark. Stay sharp.”
He glanced around, catching the grim, focused expressions of his fellow team members—men and women he trusted with his life, each of them keyed up and ready, their K-9 partners shifting eagerly beside them.
Eli Blackwood adjusted his grip on Wrangler, his suspect apprehension dog.
The sleek, muscular form of his Belgian Malinois, poised like a coiled spring, muscles bunching and releasing in silent anticipation.
“Three…two…one.”
The command snapped through the line and the task force surged forward as one, boots hitting concrete in a low, unified thrum.
Trevor followed, Lark at his side, her nose dipping as they crossed the overgrown lawn, each footstep careful but quick, his pulse a steady hammer in his ears.
Emmett hit the back door, his shoulder slamming into the thin, weather-beaten wood, the frame splintering beneath the force.
The dogs poured in first, their powerful frames darting through the narrow entryways, noses flaring as they swept the interior, every corner, every shadowed recess.
Frankie, River’s yellow Lab, pulled ahead, her breath coming faster, but still no sign of Mia’s scent, only the faint, bitter tang of mildew and old, stale smoke clinging to the walls.
Then the sharp, metallic click of a gun’s slide being racked cut through the air—a sound as unmistakable as a rattlesnake’s warning.
Trevor’s heart seized, his body reacting before his mind caught up, pushing Lark behind him as he swung his weapon up, sweeping the cramped hallway ahead.
The flash of movement—a figure in a dark hood—caught his eye just before the first shot rang out, the deafening crack splitting the musty air.
“Shots fired!” Emmett’s shout echoed from the kitchen, his voice tight with the shock of sudden violence.
Trevor hit the wall, his shoulder slamming against the peeling plaster, fragments of dust and old paint raining down as bullets ripped through the narrow hallway.
Lark barked, her body tensed beside him, eyes locked on the shifting shadows ahead.
He leaned around the corner, just enough to catch a glimpse of the hooded figure retreating toward the back of the house, another man in tow, their guns flashing in the dim light.
The task force returned fire, the rapid staccato of shots blending into a single, rolling wave of sound that thundered through the house, shaking the thin walls, the air growing thick with the acrid bite of gunpowder and the acrid, metallic tang of blood.
Then, a scream—a piercing, panicked cry—cut through the chaos, and Trevor’s heart twisted as he recognized the voice.
Melody Rust, her form suddenly silhouetted against the cracked window as she dove for cover, a bullet obliterating the doorframe just inches from her head.
Trevor’s vision narrowed, adrenaline surging as he pushed off the wall, his body moving on instinct, his Glock zeroing in on the hooded figure taking aim at her.
He fired, the kick of the gun jarring up his arm, the echoing report blending with the shouts and frantic barks of the K-9s as the hooded figure staggered, his weapon clattering to the floor, his body folding against the warped flooring.
Another shot came from Emmett, and the second man crumpled beside him, the air thick now with the bitter tang of cordite and blood.
Trevor pushed forward, his boots slipping on the debris-strewn floor as he moved to Melody’s side, his heart thundering in his chest.
“Are you hit?”
“No. But that was close. Too close.”
He squeezed her shoulder and spared a glance down at the fallen but alive figure, the hood slipping back to reveal a face, one that twisted his gut with a sickening jolt.
“That’s Jared Leader,” Emmett said.