Chapter Five

      The wailing sounded again.

      Lucas rushed to the crate, anxious to see if someone was trapped inside. He examined the wood, noting spaces between the slits. It was about a twelve-by-twelve space.

      He needed to open the damn thing. He used his hands to pry at the rotting boards. They easily gave way and he yanked off three of them to look inside.

      Nothing.

      Damn. Where had that sound come from?

      He turned and shined his flashlight across the back wall. A pile of rubbish, old cans, wood, storage containers and trash. Determined to find the source of the wailing, he tossed aside all the junk.

      Something moved behind the rubbish. Too small to be a person. An animal?

      Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stooped down and dug away more debris. A small orange ball caught his eye. Then a low whine, like a baby crying.

      A kitten.

      Breath whooshing out in relief, he gently reached inside the space and scooped up the tiny feline.

      Growing up on the ranch, he and his brothers had taken in stray dogs, but Chrissy had been the cat lover. Pain squeezed at his chest. She would have loved this little bundle of fur.

      He nuzzled it next to his cheek. “Come on, little one, we’ll find you a home.”

      Satisfied this warehouse hadn’t been used for the kidnapped girls, he carried the kitten outside. Harrison was standing by the last warehouse looking grim.

      Lucas’s heart lurched. “What?”

      “It’s empty, but it has been used.” Harrison narrowed his eyes at the kitten, but didn’t comment, then motioned for Lucas to follow him inside the other space.

      The interior was dark, but Harrison illuminated a path with his flashlight, and Lucas followed. In the far right corner, he spotted three old mattresses, discarded paper products from take-out restaurants and several empty water bottles.

      But it was the hooks on the wall that made his blood run cold. Metal hooks connected to chains.

      A used hypodermic lay discarded on the floor, a sign the kidnappers had drugged their victims.

      “There’s blood on the chains,” Harrison said as he pointed to a dark stain.

      Nausea climbed Lucas’s throat, anger churning at the images that flashed across his mind.

      “Let’s collect some of this stuff and send it to the lab. Maybe we can confirm who was here and the kidnappers’ drug of choice.”

      Harrison nodded, yanked on gloves and picked up one of the used fast-food bags. “Food looks crusted and moldy inside.”

      “They didn’t bring Charlotte’s students here,” Lucas said.

      “But there were others,” Harrison said.

      Lucas gritted his teeth. “Which means this trafficking ring may have been scoping out Tumbleweed a lot longer than we think.”

      Harrison scowled. “Do you think it’s possible that someone in town is part of the operation?”

      Good question.

      Although none of them wanted to believe that their home town was hiding a ring of child traffickers, they couldn’t discount the possibility.

      * * *

      CHARLOTTE WAS DREAMING about the girls again—they were screaming. Then one of the men grabbed her and dragged her toward the door with them.

      She jerked awake, her breath choking out. She was still in the hospital. Dear God, she wished they’d taken her, too. At least she could have watched over the girls.

      “Charlotte?”

      Her fingers dug into the bedding as the sound of the hospital door closing echoed in the cold room. Then footsteps. Soft this time.

      The voice had been a woman. Not the nurse, though.

      A gentle hand covered hers. “Charlotte, it’s me, Honey.”

      Relief surged through her, and she reached for Honey’s hand. She’d met Honey when she was searching for a house, and they’d instantly connected and become friends. She liked Honey’s knack for taking crumbling properties and houses and turning them into welcoming, beautiful, loving homes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

      Honey pulled her hand into hers. “I’m so sorry about what happened, Charlotte. How do you feel?”

      Honey’s concern touched her deeply. Charlotte had been in and out of so many foster homes that she’d never gotten close to anyone.

      One family had a scruffy rescue dog that she’d loved. Leaving it had ripped out her heart. Since then, she hadn’t allowed herself a pet, either.

      “Charlotte, sweetie, talk to me,” Honey said softly.

      Emotion clogged her throat. Honey was the closest thing Charlotte had ever had to a sister. “I’m terrified for those girls. They should be laughing and shopping for outfits for school dances, not being terrorized by monsters who want to turn them into sex slaves.”

      Honey pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s hand. “I know, it’s horrible.”

      “I keep dreaming about the girls screaming for help. I can hear them crying, but I can’t do anything.” Her voice cracked. “I hate being helpless.”

      “Harrison and Lucas are doing everything possible to find them.” Honey stroked Charlotte’s hand to calm her. “They won’t stop until they bring them back and put those horrid men in prison.”

      “But they could be on a boat or plane out of the country,” Charlotte said. “You hear about cases where young women are kidnapped and never seen again.” Evie’s face haunted her, followed by Adrian’s and Agnes’s and Mae Lynn’s. “The girls in my group have already been through hell. But this—this could be more than they can bear.” Especially fragile Mae Lynn. She’d been a cutter before she’d joined the group.

      Honey’s quiet breathing whispered in the air. “Listen to me, Charlotte. I know those girls have had it rough, but they’re like you and me, they’re tough. Survivors. Harrison and Lucas will find them, then they’re going to need you.” She paused. “So the best thing you can do for them is to focus on your own recovery.”

      Charlotte blinked back tears. “But all I can think about is Evie and Mae Lynn—”

      “Shh,” Honey whispered. “You don’t know the Hawk brothers like I do. They’re the most trustworthy, brave, courageous, strong men I know. When they say they’re going to do something, they’ll do it.”

      Charlotte wanted to believe her. But she’d never trusted a man in her life.

      Honey released her hand and disappeared for a moment. When she returned she dragged a chair up beside the bed, and dabbed at Charlotte’s tearstained face with a tissue.

      “Does your head hurt?”

      Charlotte