Vicious Cycle

  She wadded her hair with fisted hands. “What if they don’t find Grace, Lance? What if she’s gone forever? Do you know what it would be like to live with that?”

  “Jordan, if that’s true, then you’ll have to deal with it somehow. The right way or the wrong way. Deal with it the right way. Come back to your house with me now. If anybody can find her, Kent can. They’ve already found some phone numbers. They’re getting close. God already knows where she is, and He’ll help you if you just make up your mind to let Him.”

  She covered her face again, and Lance waited, knowing he couldn’t force her to choose the right thing. She could walk away right now, and no one would be able to stop her. Somewhere down the line, she’d wind up back in the hospital, or in jail, or dead somewhere. And he would go to her funeral and mourn the fact that drugs had taken another life.

  She wiped her hands on her pajama bottoms, and he half expected her to get up and keep walking up that long road to her destruction. Instead, she let out a long, ragged breath. “Let’s go back.”

  Relief flooded through him. They got to their feet, and he hugged her. He heard a car coming, its heavy engine sounding like it was in dire need of a new muffler. As he let her go, there was the squeal of brakes, and there it was beside them … the blue Dodge.

  Zeke leaned toward them and held a .38 through the open passenger window. Lance froze. “I was hoping you made it home, little sister,” he said. “And looks like you brought company.”

  Jordan flew to the car. “Where is she? Where’s my baby?”

  “With people who really, really want her,” he said with a grin. “And you know what, Jordan? They really, really want you too. The idea of a pretty blue-eyed brunette who’s controllable with a little meth … it upped the ante. They’re paying me another twenty grand for you.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Who knew you were worth that? Get in.”

  Lance felt the blood draining from his face. He glanced in the direction of the house, but couldn’t see it through the trees. Where was the cop who was standing guard? Couldn’t he hear the car? “Zeke, come on. She’s your sister.”

  “Half-sister,” he said, “which is practically nothing at all. And you. I should have killed you the other day. They wanted me to after you saw them, but you were in jail.”

  So jail had kept him from getting murdered. But Zeke had the capacity to kill. There was no question about that. “Hey,” Lance said, holding his palms out, as if it would calm him. “Just put the gun down. You won’t get away with it, and why have a murder and a kidnapping on your record? The police are right over there, at your house. They’re probably moving this way already.”

  Zeke peered uneasily toward the house, but then relaxed. They were hidden. “If they do, I’ll have hostages. Both of you, in the car. Jordan, backseat. Lance, my friend, you come sit up here by me. I’ll hand Jordan over, and then I’ll take care of you.” He cocked the hammer. His hand was shaking. “Or I could drop you right here. Don’t really matter to me, but it might call attention to us.”

  Jordan didn’t wait to be forced. She got into the backseat. “I want my baby.”

  “You’ll be with her soon. Come on, Lance.”

  Lance moved slowly toward the car. Where was Kent? Why hadn’t Agora heard the rumbling car? As he closed the car door, he looked in the direction of the house, but no one came. Zeke made a U-turn in the street and headed back the way he’d come.

  Chapter 52

  Here it is!” Dathan’s voice echoed over the house. “I’ve got it!”

  Kent crossed the hall, saw Dathan in what must be Zeke’s room. He stood by a dirty bare mattress, brandishing a notepad with childish print. “It’s directions, with the same phone number. And it has the money amounts again.”

  Kent examined the notepad. It gave cryptic directions to what sounded like an airstrip behind an industrial area. “All right, let’s go.”

  He called out as he headed up the hall. “Lieutenant, let’s go!” The patrol officer in the living room held the door open for them.

  The other uniform who stood outside was focused on his BlackBerry. He turned. “We done here?”

  Kent stepped outside. “Yeah. Where are the kids?”

  The rookie pointed up the street to the trees. “Went for a walk. The girl was upset.”

  Kent’s jaw dropped. “A walk?”

  “Just up the street.”

  Kent’s heart thudded as he went to the street. There was no one in sight. He broke into a run. “Lance! Jordan!” He ran toward the area where trees cloaked the sides of the road. No one there.

  He shouted out their names as he jogged the half mile to the aged neighborhood. A man was outside working on a rusty car on cement blocks. Kent was sweating now. “Did you … did you see a teenaged boy and a girl? Boy’s about five-seven, brown hair, girl’s the neighbor that lives past those trees?”

  “No, I didn’t see nobody.”

  How could that be? “How long have you been out here?”

  “Coupla hours. You a cop?”

  Kent turned back, looked up the street. “Did anybody come past here toward the Rhodes house down the street?”

  “Yeah, that scuzzball Zeke come by in that clunker of his. Didn’t stay long. Came right back out.”

  In that moment, Kent’s world spun out of control, and he stood in disbelief. Zeke would have seen the kids on the road. If they told him the cops were waiting, he might have taken Jordan as a hostage. Apparently Lance too.

  Barbara would never forgive him.

  His legs felt like iron as he went back to the road. By now, the stupid cop who’d been posted at the front door was behind him. He looked shaken.

  “Sir, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think — ”

  Kent grabbed his collar. “You let them walk away, and now they’ve vanished!”

  The cop swallowed. “I wasn’t told to babysit. I was just guarding the search area.”

  “You weren’t doing anything except playing on your stupid phone!” Kent spat out.

  Dathan’s car rolled up beside them, and Kent let Agora go and jumped in. “Zeke was here,” he told Dathan, breathless. “He has them.”

  “Not for long,” Dathan said, and as the cruisers’ sirens came on to escort them, they headed toward the side of town where Zeke’s directions led them.

  Chapter 53

  Zeke had a manic look in his eyes, and from the sores on his skin, Lance guessed he was deep into his meth abuse. The gun shook in Zeke’s left hand as he steered with his right, and Lance knew it could go off at any moment, even if Zeke wasn’t trying to pull the trigger.

  “Put the gun down, Zeke,” Lance said. “Please.”

  “Shut up!” he shouted, keeping the gun on Lance. “You helped get my mother locked up, so I owe you. And you, kid sis, you and your mouth brought the cops on our family. I’ll show you. You’re a brainless teenaged meth head, and you think you’re gonna do anything right for the kid? Fighting us when we’re trying to help you?”

  “You sold her for money!” she screamed.

  “So what? You think you’re smarter giving her away for nothing?”

  “The police are looking for her,” Jordan said. “They’re gonna find everybody involved, and if you’re involved, they’ll arrest you too.”

  The gun went off, its blast shattering the glass on Lance’s window. He jumped and Jordan screamed. Glass sprayed the street.

  Sweat broke out on Lance’s face.

  “Zeke!” Jordan screamed. “Stop it! Put the gun down. We don’t want any trouble. Just let Lance out.”

  “No. I’m gonna kill him when we get there. And then I’m handing you over.”

  Lance’s heart raced. “Zeke, you only have two family members left. Why would you put Jordan in this kind of danger?”

  “She’s always been nothing but trouble to us, ever since she was born.”

  “I hate you,” she cried. “I’ve always hated you!”

  Lance tried to think of something
to say … something that would change Zeke’s mind. But every time words came to his mind, he saw that gun barrel, and that trembling finger, right over the trigger.

  Lance tried to think ahead. If Zeke was taking them to the people who stole the baby, then maybe he could gather some evidence, escape somehow, and call Kent. Maybe he could help the police blow this case up. But what if he couldn’t? He had nothing to defend himself with. Once he was there, those people had no reason to keep him alive.

  Maybe they weren’t as evil as Zeke. Maybe they were just a high-powered underground adoption firm. It could be that they cared about babies and valued human life, but just had an illegal way of doing business.

  No, that made no sense. They wouldn’t have asked for Jordan too if they were really trying to help. And Lance was a witness, so they’d have to get rid of him. They had no choice.

  It was completely out of his hands.

  Chapter 54

  Kent turned on the siren in Dathan’s unmarked car as they raced to the site Zeke had written down. Barbara needed to know her son was missing, but dread of that phone call strangled him. She would never forgive him if anything happened to Lance. He would never forgive himself.

  But he couldn’t leave her in the dark, not after Dathan had expanded the AMBER Alert to include Jordan and Lance. Media outlets across the town were probably already getting word, and announcements would be made on TV and radio within the half hour. It was unfair to let Barbara hear about it that way.

  Gripping the door handle to brace himself for the race through town, Kent called Barbara. When she answered, he closed his eyes. “Barbara, I have to tell you something.” She paused. “Is that a siren?”

  He pressed a finger to his ear. “Yes. We’re on our way to where we think Zeke took the baby. We found directions.”

  “That’s great! Where’s Lance?”

  He sighed. “That’s why I called. Barbara, he’s missing. Jordan walked away from the house, Lance went after her to bring her back, and they vanished.”

  “What? No!” Her lungs seemed to empty with the word. “Did you look for them?”

  “Yes, and I found out Zeke had been there minutes before. I think they’re with him.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then he heard her hard breathing.

  “Barbara, are you okay?”

  “He could die.” Her voice rippled with panic that rose to near hysteria. “He could be dead already. Kent, you have to find him! You have to get to him before they kill him!”

  “Barbara, I’m headed there now. We’ve put out an AMBER Alert, and everyone will be looking for them. Just pray.”

  He couldn’t bear the sound of her shocked grief. He hated himself for having no words to calm her down. There was no way to sugarcoat the fact that Lance was with a meth-crazed madman.

  Why hadn’t he watched him more closely? Why hadn’t he told that rookie not to let them out of his sight?

  God, please don’t let anything happen to him!

  But as they flew to their destination, he had a sinking feeling that he might be getting there too late.

  Lance’s gaze slid from one window to the other, looking for some source of help, as Zeke drove them up a long road, where factories and industrial buildings stood without a soul in sight. Zeke still held the gun in his left hand, aimed across his stomach at Lance.

  Bezel, a local carpet manufacturer, had a parking lot full of cars, but no one walked outside. Not even a security guard. Zeke sped past it, crossed a railroad track, then drove in front of a shipping warehouse for a local department store. Lance saw men at an open bay unloading an eighteen-wheeler, but before it even registered, they had passed it and were speeding by abandoned factories with For Sale signs out front, and warehouses with boarded windows.

  The farther they drove, the less likely it was that anyone would notice the insane man in the blue Dodge, holding two people hostage.

  There was no one to signal, no one who would hear if Jordan screamed or Lance cried for help.

  But Jordan wouldn’t scream, because she didn’t want anyone to stop them. Lance could tell from the determined look on her face that she saw this as a way to rescue her baby. For the first time in her life, she was putting someone else first. But her zeal to save her baby could keep Lance from finding an escape.

  Zeke was going to kill him unless Lance could find a way out. His mind raced through options.

  He could open the door and hurl himself out, but Zeke’s finger was still on the trigger. He would fire for sure, and if Lance wasn’t hit by the bullet, hitting the ground at eighty miles an hour would kill him anyway.

  He could wait until they stopped and make a wild run for it. But Jordan wouldn’t come with him—not until she had her baby. And he couldn’t leave her.

  Bottom line … he was toast.

  He looked back at Jordan, willing her to take whatever chance they had for escape, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She stared over Zeke’s shoulder, out the windshield, as though trying to anticipate their destination.

  They slowed and turned off the road as they approached another building. Beside it, Lance saw a long airstrip with a fuel tank beside it. As Zeke pulled up to the closed doors of the airplane hangar, he honked his horn.

  “What is this place?” Jordan asked, her voice hoarse.

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Zeke said. “And when I hand you over, I’ll get another twenty grand.” He slapped his hands on the steering wheel and laughed. “You know how much ice I can do with that much dough?”

  Lance’s hand closed over the door latch, but Zeke raised his gun. “Zeke, who are you turning her over to?”

  “Somebody who can make good use of her,” Zeke said. “Nobody else ever has.”

  Lance heard a noise; the hangar’s bay door was opening slowly. Inside, just beyond it, he could see the man who’d been at Jordan’s house with the woman that day.

  God, please help us.

  Carrying an automatic rifle, the man walked over to Lance’s side of the car, opened the door, and told him to get out. Lance slid out, holding his hands above his head. His knees threatened to buckle. “Don’t shoot,” he said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Jordan bolted out, seemingly without fear. “Do you have my baby?” she demanded.

  “Hold it.” The woman emerged, her gun aimed at Jordan. “What’s the boy doing here?” she yelled.

  “He was with her, so I had to bring him,” Zeke said. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of him myself.”

  The man stared at Zeke as if he wasn’t pleased. Lance raised his hands innocently. “Let me go, man. I swear I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Inside,” the man bit out, looking up the road. “Pull the car in.”

  The man went back to the door and yelled something, and the door to the second bay rolled open. Zeke pulled his car in.

  As they walked Lance in, a gun against his back, he saw that there were two cars, a sleek plane that looked like something a corporation would own, and at least one other guy in the dimly lit building. As the door closed behind them, Lance’s lungs locked—he couldn’t breathe. This was it.

  “Give me the gun, Zeke,” the man barked.

  Still behind the wheel, Zeke handed his gun out the car window—then gasped as Nelson lifted it to Zeke’s head. “Out of the car, Zeke.”

  “What? Put the gun down, man. We’re on the same side.”

  “Where is my baby?” Jordan screamed, her voice echoing through the metal building.

  “We’ll bring her to you,” the woman said in a calm voice. “Come back here with me, and we’ll get her for you. Hands over your head. All of you.”

  Lance did as he was told. He followed Jordan into a small room that looked like a manager’s office. It had a metal desk in the center of the room and some folding chairs.

  Lance took the seat by the wall, as far from the man’s gun as he could get. Jordan sat down, watching the man hopefully, as if he’d produ
ce Grace at any moment. As Zeke stepped over the threshold, the man lifted Zeke’s gun …

  … and shot him in the back.

  Jordan screamed as her brother hit the concrete. Lance grabbed her and pulled her against him, pressing both of them against the wall.

  God please help us. God please help us … He was going to die. Jordan too. They would find them here in a pile on the floor.

  The other man and woman looked undaunted as they dragged Zeke’s body from the doorway. Jordan’s screams bounced off the walls, echoing through the building—but Lance doubted anyone was close enough to hear. “Shut up!” the man yelled, his voice booming her into silence. She sobbed, sucking in breaths, trying not to make noise.

  “Take your jackets off,” he said. “Darlene, get two syringes.”

  Sweat dripped from Lance’s chin as he pulled off his jacket. His eyes searched for an escape. The walls were some kind of heavy corrugated metal, but there were no doors except for the ones they’d come in. No windows either.

  The woman came back, syringes in hand, and came to Lance first. He drew back. “What is that?”

  “Something to help you relax.” She slid up his sleeve.

  Lance jerked his arm away, but the gun barrel pressed against his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for death.

  Darlene put a tourniquet on his arm and shoved a needle in. He heard Jordan’s anguished scream just as liquid fire burst through him. His vision went blurry … his ears muffled Jordan’s cries.

  As he prayed for God’s intervention, Jordan’s screams grew more distant. Unconsciousness hit like a sledgehammer, blacking through his brain. As he sank into it, he heard voices over him.

  “Put the girl in the plane with the baby. We’ll set up Zeke and the kid to look like they killed each other. Put the pistol in Zeke’s hand, and shoot the boy with it. Then get in the plane and we’re outta here.”

  Chapter 55