Chapter 28 #3
The confirmation hit like a physical blow even though I'd suspected, and Davies had all but told us. Knowing Morgan was involved was different from having it confirmed by someone who'd witnessed her madness firsthand, who'd been trapped in the same house while Morgan planned my torture.
“Emma, do you know what they're planning?” Jaxon asked, his voice tight with urgency. “Anything specific about their plans for Harper?”
“No details, they don't talk specifics around the women.
We're not people to them, just property they use and dispose of. But Morgan,” Emma's voice dropped to a whisper.
“She's obsessed with Harper. Has pictures everywhere in that house, like a shrine or something creepy. Talks about her constantly. About Connor. About the ranch and the boutique and how Harper stole everything she was supposed to have.”
“Does she know where Harper is? That she's staying at Connor's ranch?”
“She knows everything.” Emma's eyes met mine again.
“She has connections everywhere. Her father, he's high up in the cartel, some kind of regional boss.
That's why Silas can't say no to her even though she's making everything more complicated, even though her obsession with you is putting the whole operation at risk because she can't think about anything except revenge.”
Her father is cartel. The piece clicked into place with sickening clarity. Morgan wasn't just working with criminals. She was born into it. Raised in it. Had resources and connections that made her infinitely more dangerous than I'd imagined.
I am so fucked.
“What operation?” I asked. “What do they want with Connor's ranch?”
“Access to something. Routes, maybe? Land for transport?” Emma shook her head.
“I don't know all the details because they don't exactly include the sex slaves in the business meetings.
But originally that's what they wanted, Connor's property. The boutique property too, something about the location being perfect for their smuggling routes. But now,” she looked at me with those haunted eyes.
“Now Morgan doesn't care about any of that.
She just wants you gone. Dead. She says it constantly.
'Harper needs to die.' Like it's her fucking mantra.”
The words settled over me like a death sentence.
We pulled into the ranch fifteen minutes later. Connor's truck was already back, parked near the house, and he appeared on the porch immediately when he heard us arrive like he'd been watching for us. Chester bounded out beside him, tail wagging, oblivious to the tension radiating from the Jeep.
Connor's expression shifted from pleased to concerned to alert in seconds as he took in Emma's condition in the back seat through the window.
“What happened?” He was already moving toward us, his long strides eating up the distance. “Harper, are you okay?”
“I'm fine. But Connor,” I climbed out of the Jeep, my legs unsteady beneath me. “This is Emma. She escaped from Silas. She knows about Morgan. She knows—” My voice broke. “She knows everything. And it's worse than we thought. So much worse.”
Connor's face went hard, his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides that said he wanted to hit something. But when he looked at Emma, at her bruised face and terrified eyes and the way she flinched when he moved too quickly, his expression softened.
“Let's get her inside. Harper, call Davies. Jaxon, help me get her to one of the guest cabins.” His voice was controlled, commanding, the voice of someone used to handling emergencies on the ranch. “Emma, you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you.”
Emma didn't look like she believed him, but she let Jaxon help her out of the Jeep with careful hands. Her legs nearly gave out when she tried to stand, and both men moved to support her without actually touching more than necessary.
We moved as a unit toward the guest cabins, small furnished rentals set back from the main house among the pine trees that Anna had turned into an Airbnb business. They were secure, being on the ranch, but they were also private which was a necessity right now.
I called Davies while we walked, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone twice. He answered on the second ring.
“Sheriff Davies.”
“It's Harper Walsh. We have a situation.” I forced my voice to stay steady even though I wanted to scream.
“We found a woman on the road near Connor's ranch. She escaped from Silas and she has information about Morgan. About a cartel,” I stopped, looked at Emma's battered face ahead of me.
“About everything. Sex trafficking, murder, all of it. Can you come to the ranch?”
“I'm on my way. Don't let her leave. I'll be there in twenty minutes.” He paused. “Harper, are you safe? Is the woman alone?”
“Yes. She's alone. And terrified. Sheriff, she's been…” I couldn't say it, couldn't articulate the horror of what had clearly been done to her. “Just get here fast. Please.”
Anna arrived before Davies did, summoned by a text from Jaxon.
She took one look at Emma and froze, sucking in a breath, eyes widening in a way that said she was seeing something that triggered memories she'd rather forget.
I watched as her body shivered and Jaxon stepped in front of her immediately, blocking her view.
He placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured something soft to her that I couldn't hear, and I realized that Anna probably saw herself in the battered woman, saw what could have been, what almost was.
Of course. Anna understands this in a way the rest of us can't.
After a minute and a few deep breaths, Jaxon stepped aside.
Anna looked at Emma again and immediately went into caretaker mode, disappearing to her car and returning with clean clothes, toiletries, a first aid kit that looked like it could handle a small emergency, bottles of water and protein bars.
“Come on, sweetie,” Anna said gently, crouching down in front of where Emma sat on the cabin's couch looking lost. “Let's get you cleaned up. You'll feel better after a shower and some clean clothes.”
“I don't—” Emma's voice was small, childlike in a way that broke my heart. “I don't want to be alone.”
“You won't be. I'll stay right outside the bathroom door. And Harper can stay in the cabin. You'll be safe. I promise.” Anna's voice was so gentle, so kind, that Emma finally nodded.
I watched as Anna helped Emma to the bathroom, her movements slow and careful, giving Emma time to accept each touch before moving forward like she was taming a wild animal. The bathroom door closed, and I heard the shower start.
Connor pulled me into his arms immediately, his whole body tense with barely controlled rage. “Tell me everything.”
I proceeded to tell him about finding Emma in the road looking like she'd escaped from hell, her recognition of my face from Silas's creepy photo collection, Silas's involvement, Morgan's obsession, the sex trafficking and all of it.
With each word, Connor's body went more rigid, his breathing more controlled in that way that meant he was fighting to stay calm.
“She said Morgan's father is with a cartel,” I finished. “High up. Regional boss or something. That's why Silas can't refuse her even though she's putting their operation at risk with her psychotic obsession with murdering me.”
“Morgan.” Connor's voice was cold, deadly in a way I'd never heard before. “She's been involved this whole time. The apartment fire. The boutique. The threats. All of it.”
“Emma says Morgan's obsessed with me. That she just wants me gone now—dead. Doesn't even care about the ranch or the property anymore. Just wants me to suffer and then die. Which is, you know, totally normal ex-girlfriend behavior.”
Connor pulled back to look at my face, his brown eyes fierce with protectiveness that bordered on violence. “She's not getting anywhere near you. Do you understand me? I don't care what connections she has or who her father is. She's not touching you or our baby.”
The shower shut off, and a few minutes later Anna emerged with Emma, who looked marginally better.
Clean, at least, wearing Anna's yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her too-thin frame.
Her wet hair hung in dark waves around her face, making the bruises stand out more starkly against pale skin.
“Thank you,” Emma whispered to Anna. “For the clothes. For helping me. For not—for not looking at me like I'm dirty.”
“Of course, sweetie. You're safe now.” Anna guided her back to the couch, wrapped her in a blanket despite the warmth of the afternoon.
Sheriff Davies arrived twenty minutes later with two deputies, his weathered face grim when he saw Emma's condition up close. He introduced himself carefully, explained he needed to ask questions, assured her she wasn't in trouble and wouldn't be arrested.
Because apparently that needed to be said. Jesus.
“Emma,” Davies said gently, settling into the chair across from her. “I know this is hard. But I need you to tell me everything you can remember. About Silas, about where you were kept, about what you heard. Can you do that?”
Emma took a shaky breath, her hands clutching the blanket like a lifeline.
“I was taken just over three months ago from Las Vegas.
I worked at a club on the Strip serving drinks at the bar, nothing illegal.
One night I was closing up and someone grabbed me from the parking lot.
Drugged me with something, chloroform maybe, I don't know.
When I woke up, I was in a van with two other women I'd never seen before.”
Her voice was flat, clinical, the only way to tell a story this horrific without breaking down completely.