Chapter Seventeen
Bennett had never expected to be gone two weeks. He knew finding six women without names or pictures wouldn’t be easy. When he packed, he’d prepared in the best way he knew how: cash heavy. Money usually talked and opened many doors in a place like that, but somehow the locals were resistant even to bribery.
He knew he had the right place because all he had to do was show a picture of Henderson and they clammed up. These people were not just scared of him. They were petrified. He understood why. The man was vicious and had the power and money to decimate a place like this. What he couldn’t get them to understand was Henderson was dead. He couldn’t hurt them any longer.
“I don’t think you’re going to get anyone to talk. Look around, Bennett. These people are even afraid to be seen talking to us. All they do is whisper among themselves. I’m not sure how safe we’re going to be much longer if we keep pushing.”
Doug was right. He’d been here too long, and not one lead. Bennett didn’t believe an attack would come from the people of the town, but he did see looks from the local authorities that put him on alert. They won’t have any issue throwing our asses in jail and making us disappear for a very long time if we’re not careful.
Another night in what they called a hotel here was more than he could stand. He’d rather sleep out in the elements than on that piece of foam.
“Pack up. We’re out of here.”
Doug flew out of the chair as though he’d been waiting for those words all week. Bennett wasn’t as excited. It meant he was giving up. That wasn’t a word he ever used. Reluctantly he threw his clothes in his duffel bag.
“Ready,” Doug said within minutes.
Really? I didn’t even see you pack anything. Or was it packed already? It didn’t matter at the moment. They were leaving exactly as they came. With the same questions and no answers.
They went downstairs, Bennett paid for their stay, and requested a driver to take them to the small private airport. The only good thing was he had a friend who’d been kind enough to lend him a small private jet and pilot for an extended time. He knew nothing came free. One day he’d need to repay the favor and would be happy to do so.
As they waited outside in the heat, an old beat-up Volkswagen van pulled up. The driver was a gaunt young man with a hat pulled down over his eyes. That raggedy thing looked like something from the sixties; the driver was as nervous and suspicious-looking as they came, and Bennett wasn’t sure if either of them were safe. He would remain on high alert until they were on that plane and out of there. All we have to do is get to the airport.
Bennett texted the pilot, letting him know they’d be ready for takeoff in an hour. He knew the pilot was going to be ecstatic about the news.
They left the unwelcome town behind. Suddenly the driver turned onto a dirt road that obviously wasn’t traveled often. Bennett and Doug looked at each other. Something wasn’t right.
Not far down the road the driver came to a stop and turned off the engine. Bennett didn’t want the driver to be aware he was being watched closely, so he played it calm and cool.
“What’s wrong with the van?” Bennett asked.
Without uttering a single word, the suspicious driver reached into his pocket. At that moment, Bennett hated like hell that he didn’t have his gun on him. He knew they’d made some enemies on this expedition. Before he could reach the man to block whatever was coming their way, the man held up a picture. Bennett froze, adrenaline still pumping. Cursing, he snatched the photo from the man’s hand. Looking at the worn and tattered paper, he saw a young girl. Sweet-looking child, with dark brown, almost-black, eyes. She was smiling and held a dirty, battered rag doll. She must’ve been about five, maybe six years old.
“Who is this?” Bennett asked.
“She was my older sister.”
“What happened to her?” Bennett inquired.
The man shook his head and said softly. “Dead.”
He looked at the picture again. This was his older sister, and this guy looked to be in his early thirties. “How old was she when she died?” Bennett tried to prepare himself for the answer he knew was coming.
“Eighteen. My sweet sister, dead.” The man couldn’t even look Bennett in the eyes as he spoke. Even now he was overwhelmed with pain.
Bennett had figured that much out when he said the word was instead of is. He hated asking but needed to know. “How?”
“During childbirth.”
Doug and Bennett exchanged looks. They’d seen this man lurking in the shadows several times and now it made sense. The driver’s sister had to be one of the mothers they’d been searching for, but he was afraid to approach them in public. Which one they didn’t know. But they could easily figure it out if they knew the date of death. It should match up with one of the birth certificates. Bennett wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be Zoey’s mother or not. No matter what she’d said about not wanting to know her mother, he was sure she’d change her mind if given a chance.
“When?”
The man rattled off the month and year. Bennett thought back to the dates in his records. Logan’s mother. Shit. Logan was the second oldest, and even after one of the girls dying, Henderson came back and took another girl. Bennett pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of the photograph before handing it back to the driver.
Bennett couldn’t hate Henderson any more than he did then. His heart went out to Zoey and her mother. Zoey, if you only knew how you came to be. You were the fourth child. Your mother was a virgin. The virgin for the fourth time. He knew it wasn’t something he would ever utter to her. Words that no child wants to hear no matter how strong or prepared you are. What a sick bastard. Six children. Six virgins. Death was too good for James.
Doug spoke for the first time since they got in the van. “Why are you telling us this now? We’ve been here for two weeks, and we’ve seen you around. You know why we’re here. Who are you afraid of? We know it’s not us.”