Against the Night (31 page)

Why was Rachael in Belize? Who had arranged for her to be brought there? What was her connection to Ortega?

Exhaustion washed over her. She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until the boat bumped into the dock in Placencia and her eyes popped open.

“Come on, baby,” Johnnie said gently. “Let’s get your sister someplace where she can sleep off some of those drugs. Maybe the rest of us can get a little shut-eye, too.”

She nodded.

Still wary, the men took watches standing guard. The next thing she remembered was waking up in a motel room near the tiny Placencia airport, lying on top of the mattress asleep in her clothes, her sister asleep in the bed next to hers. Johnnie dozed in a chair across the way.

As if he had sensed her watching him, his eyes cracked open. A glance at the clock and he was on his feet.

“Time to go,” he said, striding toward her.

It was still dark outside, the sun not yet up. “Do I have time to shower?” she asked.

“If you make it fast.” He gave her a long, slow perusal. “Maybe we could save a little time by taking one together.”

Desire curled through her. Maybe it was the danger they had faced last night, maybe just seeing him there in the room, remembering all the hard muscles beneath his black T-shirt and camouflage pants, remembering how good it was when he made love to her.

Amy glanced over at her sister, who looked more unconscious than asleep, and her heart twisted. “We better not. If Rachael wakes up, I need to be here.”

Johnnie nodded. He tipped his head toward the bathroom. “Go on. I’ll sit with her till you’re finished.”

“Thanks.” Amy started for the shower, cast a wistful glance back at Johnnie. Forcing her mind in a safer direction, she walked into the bathroom telling herself to think how good it was going to feel to be wearing perfume again—instead of bug spray.

Twenty-Eight

Johnnie turned his sat phone back on as the bureau jet taxied toward the executive terminal at the Houston airport, a stop on the return to drop off Ben and Jake, who were being debriefed by an agent in their area.

Johnnie looked at the phone, saw a message waiting. He recognized the number and returned the call from Dev Raines.

“Hey, Johnnie,” Dev said. “You still in Belize?”

It was amazing the way his friends always seemed to know his comings and goings.

“At the airport in Houston,” he said, “dropping Slocum and Cantrell.”

“Do any good?”

“We found the girl. She’s pretty messed up, but she’s breathing.”

“That’s good news. Listen, I called because your boy, Brodie, found the chop shop—an abandoned warehouse in East L.A. We went in last night.”

“What the hell? I thought you needed backup?”

“Figured you might be busy for a while. Talked to Cantrell before he and Slocum left to join you. Besides, Brodie’s a marine, said he could handle the job and he was right. He did real good…for a jarhead.”

Johnnie smiled, though Dev couldn’t see. “Good to know. So the guys you busted…anyone I might know?”

“The ring was being run by a guy named Arturo Vasquez. We think Jack Romano, the guy who worked in design at General Motors figured how to disable the alarms. The cops are on it.”

“Sounds good.”

“Here’s the interesting part…all of the cars were late model, high-end vehicles—Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. We even found a Lamborghini and an Aston Martin being stripped down and refitted. The thing is, one of the cars in the shop was older, not valuable at all but completely redone. Looked like they were using it to run errands, stuff like that. It was a ’98 Toyota Corolla, Johnnie. Ring any bells?”

“Oh, yeah.” According to the police report, it was the kind of car Rachael was driving the night she disappeared.

“Brodie says it fits the description of the car he’s been looking for, the one owned by Rachael Brewer. And here’s the rub. Arturo Vasquez rolled over on a guy named Hector Sanchez. Sanchez has been linked to Carlos Ortega.”

“That fits. They took the girl and hid her car in plain sight. Interesting. By the way, it isn’t for publication, but Ortega’s dead.”

Dev whistled. “I’m not asking how that happened.”

“Tripped and fell on a 9 mil.”

“I’ll just bet. Listen, I won’t be in L.A. when you get back. I’m headed for Scottsdale. If you recall, I’ve got a wife and daughter waiting and I’m in a damned big hurry to see them.”

Johnnie chuckled. “I don’t blame you.”

“Give my best to Amy.”

Johnnie just grunted. He was way past the denial stage. “Will do.” He had no idea what to do about it, knew deep down it could never work out. But for now, she was his and he was going to enjoy every minute for as long as it lasted.

He ended the call and looked up to see Amy watching him.

“Looks like they found your sister’s car,” he said.

The jet was rolling to a stop. Amy straightened in the deep leather seat beside him. “Where?”

“Warehouse in East L.A. Been stripped and repainted, numbers probably filed off, but it’s her make and model and there’s a link to Ortega, so odds are it’s hers.”

Amy looked over at her sister, asleep in the seat across the aisle. “Why in the name of God would Rachael get involved with a man like Ortega?”

“Good question,” Johnnie said. Just then the plane rolled to a stop and a few minutes later the cabin door swung open. Cantrell and Riggs grabbed their gear and headed down the aisle.

Jake paused next to Amy. “Bye, sweetcheeks. Take care of him, okay?”

Amy came out of her seat, ducked into the aisle and threw her arms around Jake’s muscular neck. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done—never.” He hugged her and her eyes welled. “Thank you.”

Jake just nodded and headed off down the aisle toward the door.

Slocum came next. He got the same treatment, and for once his ice-blue eyes warmed up. “I’m just glad we could help.”

Amy went up on her toes and kissed his cheek, which was dark with a night’s growth of beard. “I’ll never forget you.”

“You just get your sister home and well.”

Amy swallowed, nodded.

Johnnie followed the men off the plane. “I owe you guys big-time. You need me, just let me know and I’ll be there.”

The men shook hands, then Cantrell and Slocum started across the tarmac toward a lanky, dark-haired DEA agent named Richard Haskins that Wheeler had said would be debriefing them. They had all agreed to full disclosure but no recorders. They had to maintain plausible deniability.

With a final wave, Johnnie returned to his seat next to Amy. Across the aisle, Rachael continued to doze off and on, never staying awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

He hoped it was just the drugs, that she wasn’t injured in some other way. Wheeler had promised to have an ambulance waiting at LAX when they got there. Amy had decided not to call her mother until her sister had been examined and they knew exactly what they were dealing with.

For Amy’s sake as much as Rachael’s, he prayed the girl would be all right.

Amy sat at Rachael’s bedside in the West Hollywood Medical Center. Though they had only been there a few hours, the room was filled with flowers—from Jake and Ben, from Dev and Lark Delaney, Molly and Clive Monroe. Johnnie had bought the bouquet of pink roses, Rachael’s favorite, that Amy had picked out at the gift shop downstairs. The flowers, with both their names on the card, sat in a vase beside her bed.

She looked over to where her sister lay pale and sleeping as she had since their arrival that afternoon. An IV tube dripped liquids into her arms and a vitals monitor beeped, checking her pulse was normal.

Rachael had been tested for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. Someone—she thought perhaps Agent Wheeler—had pressed for a rush on the results and they had come back a few minutes ago—all negative, thank God. A rape kit had been done, but no signs of recent sexual intercourse had been found. Which didn’t eliminate the possibility of an earlier rape.

Amy remembered the way Ortega had looked at Rachael as she huddled nearly naked in the corner of the bedroom, and didn’t doubt for a moment he had intimate knowledge of her body.

But he had only returned to Belize that day, to the island a brief time before they got there. Amy wondered if Ortega might have considered Rachael his personal property, which would explain why he hadn’t invited his two sleazy friends to abuse her.

Lieutenant Meeks had been in and out of Rachael’s room. The policewoman had come to question her, but so far, Dr. McMahon, a thin man with buzz-cut gray hair, had refused to let the woman anywhere near his patient.

“She hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” he’d said. “Rachael’s dehydrated and still under the influence of heroin and OxyContin, and a couple of other prescription drugs. She needs time,” Dr. McMahon had explained.

Lieutenant Meeks had glanced over at the bed. “Call me as soon as she wakes up.” She’d pressed a business card with her phone numbers into his hand.

“I’ll let you know,” the doctor had promised.

Agent Wheeler, who had helped them from the start, had also been at the hospital. In a private room, he had interviewed Johnnie at length, then brought Amy into the room and questioned her, as well. By the time he left the hospital, he had seemed satisfied with the information he had received.

Amy looked up at the sound of a light knock at the door. Expecting to see Johnnie, Amy was surprised to see Detective Vega standing in the open doorway, his olive complexion and near-black eyes at odds with the bright yellow spring bouquet he held in one dark hand.

Amy smiled and walked toward him. “Detective Vega. How nice of you to come.” She stepped out of the way, inviting him into the room and took the vase from his hand, setting it on the window sill with the others. “I’m sure when Rachael wakes up she’ll be cheered by all the pretty flowers.”

His black eyes moved toward the bed. “How is she?”

Amy’s smile faded. “They aren’t sure yet. She opened her eyes a couple of times but only for a second and she hasn’t said anything yet.”

“She owes you her life…you and Johnnie.” Vega’s gaze remained on the woman in the bed. “The police never came up with a thing.”

“We still don’t know what happened. We’re hoping she’ll be able to tell us when she wakes up.”

Amy’s cell phone rang just then. She looked down at the number. It was Johnnie. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” She stepped out into the hall, leaving the detective still staring at Rachael.

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby. You holding up okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“How’s your sister?”

“Still asleep.”

“Have you called your mother yet?”

“Not yet.” She’d been waiting for word from the doctors. “I was hoping I’d be able to tell her something besides her daughter is alive.”

“Call her. At least she’ll have that much to hang on to.”

“You’re right. I’ll do it as soon as I hang up.”

“I’ve got a couple more things to check out. I’ll be down there as soon as I’m finished.”

“Detective Vega’s here. He brought Rachael flowers.”

“I talked to him this morning. Rick’s a good guy. I’ll see you soon.”

Amy hung up and dialed her mother, took a deep breath for the conversation ahead.

“Mom?”

“Amy, thank God you called. I was really starting to worry.”

She hadn’t meant for that to happen but considering everything that had been going on, there wasn’t much she could do. “I’ve got news, Mom. Maybe you should sit down.”

“Oh, my God…”

Amy’s heart jerked. “No, Mom! We found her! Rachael’s alive, Mom. She’s in the hospital. A lot has happened. There’s a lot to tell you.”

“She’s alive?”

“That’s right.”

Her mother’s voice broke. “Then just tell me she’s going to be okay.”

“She is, Mom. We don’t…don’t know how long it’s going to take, but—”

“I’m coming to L.A.,” her mother said, her voice firming again. “I’ll be on the first plane out of Grand Rapids.”

Amy felt a rush of relief she didn’t expect to feel. She was a grown woman, after all, but some things never really changed. Her mother was coming. Everything was going to be all right.

“Just let me know what time you’re getting in and I’ll pick you up.” Of course she didn’t have a car, but she was sure Johnnie would drive her.

Her mother’s voice clogged with tears. “Tell your sister…tell her I love her.”

A lump rose in Amy’s throat. “I will, Mom.”

Then the phone went dead and Amy just stood there, fighting to pull herself together. When she stepped back into the room, Detective Vega was standing at the foot of Rachael’s bed, his gaze on Rachael’s face.

“Did you know she got that part she tried out for?” Vega turned to Amy.

“What part was that?”

“A new TV series.
LAPD Blue.
The director said she was perfect for the role she read for.”

Amy’s eyes filled. “Oh, God.”

“Let her know, will you? After she went missing, they had to recast the part, but the director was really impressed. I think she’ll have a good chance of getting something else.”

The tears in Amy’s eyes spilled onto her cheeks. She wiped them away with her fingers. “I’ll tell her.”

Amy watched the detective leave, her throat aching for all that Rachael had lost. As she turned to walk back to the chair next to the bed, Rachael’s green eyes slowly opened. This time there seemed to be more in them than hazy dullness.

“Rachael!” Amy rushed toward her. “Just take it easy.” She reached out and took hold of her sister’s icy hand. “You’re in the hospital. You’re back in Los Angeles and you’re safe.”

Rachael blinked several times. She stared at Amy, her eyebrows drawing together. “Los Angeles?”

“That’s right. Mom’s on the way. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Rachael just stared. “Who…who are you?”

“You don’t know me? I’m your sister… It’s me, Amy.”

Rachael swallowed, her head moving back and forth on the pillow. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t…don’t remember you.” She looked up, and Amy could see the panic in her face. “I don’t remember anything. Not even…not even my name.”