Furious (29 page)

Faith’s dad had gone with Colton and Steve in the first ambulance to arrive.

After the EMTs took over and the detective had a few words with O’Sullivan, he turned to Faith as she was about to head off with Beast, Little Vinnie, Rage, and Miranda.

“I’m sorry Lara and Hudson weren’t here,” the detective told her, “but this gives me hope that we’ll find them.”

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

He gestured toward his vehicle. “Why don’t you drive with me to the hospital? I’ve got a call in to Mrs. Perelman, who will be meeting me there. I thought you might want to come along.”

“You go ahead,” she said stiffly, not quite sure of what she was feeling—sadness, happiness, regret, and loss all mixed into one. She needed a moment to herself. Time to think and regroup. “I want to give my mom and sister a call. I might see you there.”

Faith caught up to her friends, thankful for their silence.

They walked at an even pace to the end of the drive where her brother’s semitrailer sat off to the side of the road. Beast had gotten the keys from Colton, and he climbed in behind the wheel.

They drove home in silence.

A full moon, big and round, followed them most of the way, and all she could think of was that this was her first Christmas without her children since they were born. In that moment, anguish ripped through Faith’s insides, beating on her ribs and pulling at her heart, until the agony escaped like a wild beast trapped for too long. The low whimper erupted into a noise so pitiful that it took both Miranda and Rage to hold her, calm her, and talk her through the torment within until she was able to tamp it all down where it belonged, leaving only a tiny light to hop about, the same flickering light she knew was there to remind her that this was only the beginning.

E
PILOGUE

Two Days Later

Standing within her parents’ kitchen, Faith took a good, long look at her family. Battered but not beaten, Dad was fine, but that didn’t stop Mom from coddling him, making sure he had everything he needed.

The bullet had been removed from Colton’s arm. He was recovering at home with his wife and two daughters.

Steve was still in a hospital room at Sutter General in Roseville with Jana at his side. The doctors assured them he would be up and about in no time. He was a hero. According to Little Vinnie, if Steve hadn’t shown up and taken care of a third gunman at the gates, Beast would have taken a bullet to the head. Instead Steve had wrestled for the gun. He got the weapon, but he wasn’t fast enough. Before Beast could take the guy out, the man took a slice out of Steve’s leg.

A total of thirteen children had been saved from captivity—five under the age of twelve. Seven more girls had been locked in a downstairs bedroom, gagged and bound. And then, of course, there was Samantha Perelman.

They had spent the day after the shootout being interviewed by Agents Jensen and Burnett. Thanks to Dad, they were all allowed to walk away without being charged with any crimes. After speaking to an attorney, Dad had spoken for them all, pleading self-defense and making it clear that assault had been their only option since a felony was being committed and the assailant struck first, opening fire and killing a young man before they could call authorities. When their assailants no longer posed a threat, they stopped firing back and called the police.

Diane Weaver, the woman in charge at the farmhouse, and the man Beast had fastened to the tree were the only two thugs to survive. Both had a long criminal history and would be spending some time in prison on charges of child endangerment and trafficking.

Faith was about to walk outside to get fresh air when someone turned up the television. Every local news station hovered over Corrie Perelman as she exited the hospital.

“How is your daughter doing?” the reporter asked.

“She’s suffering from malnutrition and dehydration, but the doctors are expecting a full recovery.”

“Is it true she’d been taken by human traffickers?”

“You’ll have to talk to the authorities about the details. I’m only concerned with my daughter’s health and that she’s back home where she belongs.” She started to walk away, but then stopped and turned to the reporter she’d been talking to and looked straight into the camera lens. “I want to thank Faith McMann for finding my daughter.” Mrs. Perelman stood straight and tall, no longer resembling the anxiety-ridden woman of a few days ago. “This city, this world,” she went on, “needs more people like Faith McMann. She refuses to let these horrible, soulless criminals take our children. Despite everything she’s been through, she hasn’t let up. If anyone out there knows anything at all about the whereabouts of Lara and Hudson McMann, please call the authorities right away. I’m begging you. And, Faith, if you’re watching, you need to know how grateful I am for your kindness and for giving me my life back. I’m forever indebted. God bless.”

The room fell quiet.

Faith made her way outside, where she took a seat on a bench overlooking the expanse of oaks and willows. Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow. Her emotions were all over the place: grateful for the rescue of thirteen girls, glad for Corrie Perelman but still simmering with anger. Because in the end, nothing had changed—her husband was dead. Her kids were missing.

It took all she had to rein in her fury and keep it bottled up until the appropriate time and place—and that time would surely come.

Rage had followed her outside and took a seat next to her. “Are you OK?”

Faith looked into her eyes and said, “I have to be. For my kids.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” Rage said.

As Faith thought about how fragile life was she reached over and patted her new friend on the leg. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

“Where do we go from here?” Rage asked, staring straight ahead. “How does anyone fight something so limitless and never ending?”

“We keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Faith said. “We make our voices heard. We get the community involved. We talk to individuals, businesses, and law enforcement until we’re blue in the face. And we never let up. We hit the streets and the truck stops and the darkest corners of our city where these monsters feel most comfortable and we point fingers, or weapons, whatever it takes to make them talk.”

“And if they refuse?”

“We shut them down and move on.”

The door to the house opened, and Beast stepped outside. “You two ready to go to the range?”

Faith stood. And beneath an overcast sky, one step at a time, one breath after another, she walked onward across the soft, green grass.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

I can’t say enough wonderful things about Alan Turkus, my very first editor, who worked with me on the Lizzy Gardner series from beginning to end. Thanks for everything, Alan. You will be missed.

JoVon Sotak, Charlotte Herscher, Tiffany Pokorny, and Jacque Ben-Zekry. Your hard work is greatly appreciated.

My husband, Joe, for being my rock every step of the way.

Cathy Katz, Ruth Cole Cunningham, Morgan Ragan, Brittany Ragan, Joey Ragan, Jesse Crowder, Dillon Yuhasz, Sam Johnston, and Megan Tandberg for editing, reading, brainstorming, and sometimes just listening! Thanks!

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Photo © 2014 Morgan Ragan

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Theresa Ragan, mother of four, lives with her husband in Sacramento, California. In 2012, she signed with Thomas & Mercer and has sold 1.8 million books. Besides writing thrillers under the name T.R. Ragan (including the Lizzy Gardner novels
Abducted
,
Dead Weight
,
A Dark Mind
,
Obsessed
,
Almost Dead
, and
Evil Never Dies
), Theresa also writes medieval time travels, contemporary romance, and romantic suspense.
Furious
is the first novel in her new Faith McMann suspense series. To learn more about Theresa, visit her website at
www.theresaragan.com
.