The Camp (22 page)

Claire guided the bus at a lumbering 50 miles and hour up the curving ramp that led to the Interstate. When she looked in the rear view mirror, Amy was making her way to the front. Rye looked at her as she settled between the driver and passenger seats, then at Claire “We know Paul’s headed north following the vans, but he’s got to be so far ahead by now that we haven’t got a chance of catching up.”

“We can’t turn around now,” Amy pleaded.
 

”It’s okay, Amy. We’re not turning around, but we need a plan,” Claire said.

“They’ll have to pee.”

Rye glanced back at Ellen, still sleeping in the back, then reached up to where Amy squatted and put a hand on her shoulder. “I think there’s a rest stop coming up. But it’s a good sign. You’re not as dehydrated as I thought.”

She looked at him puzzled for a minute and then broke into a broad grin. “Not me. The girls in the van. If they stopped long enough for ten girls to pee, that might give us enough time to catch up.”

Claire shook her head. “I don’t know. I think they had a big head start and we’ve stopped a couple of times.”

Once on the interstate, she’d kept the bus wide open at 70 miles per hour and stayed in the fast lane until a car would begin to tailgate. Then she’d change lanes and let them pass.

They continued on in silence, each trying to come up with a way of catching up.
 

The bus had just returned to the fast lane when Amy’s head spun like an owl’s.

“Isn’t that your car?”

Rye practically knocked her over as he charged to the rear of the bus and looked out the back window.

“Pull onto the median and hang a U-turn. I see it. Just inside the Wolf Creek exit.”

Claire rolled across the grass-covered center that separated north and southbound traffic, then accelerated to merge back into traffic, negotiating to get into the slow lane so she could take the exit.

Amid honking horns she squeezed between cars and took the ramp nearly wide open, braking and downshifting at the sharp curve that led to the little town.

When they pulled up next to the Fiat, they failed to notice the Kawasaki taking the same exit.
 

Claire and Amy exited the cab. Rye checked on Ellen—still sleeping—and got out through the sliding door. He turned too late at the sound of a motorcycle.

Walter Link pulled in front of the bus, drawing his gun as he dismounted the bike.
 

He pulled off his helmet with his free hand without moving or shifting his sight.

Rye stopped mid-stride before he reached the Fiat. Claire was bent over the driver’s side door, reaching under the seat. Amy stood at the passenger side watching her Aunt.

“Well, hello. I think we’re going to try this one more time.”

He waved Rye forward. “Feel free to join your wife.” Then he looked over at the fifteen-year-old. “What’s your name?”

“Amy.”

“I want you next to me, Amy.” He glanced around. “I only count three, I believe there’s another girl in the bus.”

Rye stepped up to the rear of the Fiat. Close enough that Claire could feel his anger.

“One of your friends just brutally raped her and then tried to murder her.”

Link relaxed just a little. “That was Billy Jackson and he was no friend of mine. I thought he was on your team.”

Claire looked from her husband to the man with the gun and knew there was about to be trouble.

Suddenly, Amy was right next to the gunman, executing an elbow to his side, which caused him to bend slightly forward. With her right arm, she snapped down on his gun hand, pulling him down and forward further. Then, with a whipping motion, she snapped a back fist into his nose. In his moment of pain and hesitation, Claire lunged forward, jamming the web between her thumb and index finger into his throat, driving him over backward until she had him pinned to the ground. In the process, Amy had wrenched the gun from his hand and began waving it around triumphantly.
 

Rye stepped up and gently took the gun. “I guess my work is done here.”

He moved forward and kicked the downed gunman in the foot. “I need your attention. If you move, I’ll shoot you. Claire step back.”

“Your ID said Walter Link”

Link raised his right hand and pointed at his nose. “Do you mind?”

Rye just nodded.

Link pushed up to a sitting position, leaned his head back and pinched his nose.

Exhausted from the adrenaline rush, Amy was leaning heavily on the front fender of the Fiat. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Claire ran around behind Link and walked her behind some bushes.

Slowly lowering his head and dabbing at his nose, he looked up at Rye. “Who the hell are you?”

Rye took a menacing step forward. “No! Who are you?”

Link nodded his head, still dabbing at his nose that had now stopped bleeding. “You’ve got the gun. Walter Link. Special FBI task force.”

Rye moved over and sat on the hood of the Fiat. “That’s a good start.”

When the vans
transporting the girls took the Wolf Creek exit, Jane surged ahead, rolled down her window, and pulled up next to the passenger side of Cindy’s van.

“We’ll wind up into the woods, less than a mile past the little town. you’ll see an old motel. I’ll pull up to the far end. You stop in the middle.”

Once the road passed the detour that led to the little town of Wolf Creek, the road narrowed and what was left of the asphalt was cracked and filled with potholes.

What looked like the Bates Motel from the movie
Psycho
hadn’t been open to the public in decades, not since the old lumber mill shut down.

Jane and Josh got out and were joined by Cindy and Frank.

“Take the girls out two at a time, and watch yourselves. They can get feisty if the drugs have worn off.” Jane looked back at the van full of girls. “They’ll have to pee and the only toilet that works is in the office. Cindy, you and Josh go first. When they’re finished, move them to the first room at the opposite end.”

She walked with them to the van and watched as they unbuckled the first two, then turned to Frank. “You come with me, we’ll open up the rooms.”

The parking lot had been taken over by weeds and all the windows that used to provide views across the lot to the forest had been boarded up.

It took Frank three tries to separate the door from the warped frame that opened into the first room. Then he just stood staring into a yawning darkness that seemed to literally ooze must and mold.
 

Jane walked up next to him and peered in. “Go into the bathroom, prop open the door, and open the little window. Get a breeze passing through.”

He took one step in and stopped. There was no furniture, lamps, or curtains. Even the carpet had been torn up. Only the king size bed remained.

The bathroom door was already open. The linoleum floor had been torn up, leaving small sections in the corners. The sink was no longer plumbed, no pipe. The same with the toilet. The porcelain was there, but it was obvious that it had been moved, and the bathtub was filled with rocks. The little window was a framed sheet of 12-inch square plywood.

Frank stepped out and nearly ran into Cindy and Josh, who had a girl under each arm. Jane was leading the way, holding a bottle of pills. “Give ‘em two each, then Cindy, I want you to park yourself between room one and two. Frank, you and Josh go get the next two girls. Six rooms, two to a room. Each of us watches two rooms, get the picture?”

Frank looked confused and opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance.

Jane didn’t quite blow up. “This is not rocket science. When it gets dark, you can watch in pairs from one of the vans.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. “Frank, take this and one of the vans into town and buy as much bottled water as you can carry. We have to keep them hydrated. And grab some sandwiches while you’re at it.” She rolled her eyes. “The food is for us.”

Cindy stood in the middle of what was once the parking lot, watched Frank turn around, then looked over at Jane. “What’s the other way?”

“Road dead-ends at what used to be a lumber mill. Let’s take a walk.”

Cindy looked over at Josh who was anxiously marching up and down in front of the rooms.

“They all took their pills, it’ll be hours before they regain the ability to think, let alone stand.” She gave a short, sharp laugh. “Just stay put. We’ll be back.”

The two women walked in silence down to where the asphalt turned into a rutted wagon road.

Cindy was nervous around Jane, but relaxed as she talked.

“The motel was originally built to accommodate the overflow of lumberjacks. Teams of up to fifty drove logging trucks into these mountains.” In less than a mile, the rutted road opened into a clearing surrounded by dilapidated buildings.

“Here.” She waved her hand from left to right like a tour guide. “This was the hub.” She indicated a small shack. “This was the infirmary, and there, straight ahead, was the mess.” Jane shook her head with a look of amazement. “Those men were eating machines.”

Cindy took a step back for a better look at her boss. Five foot seven with piercing blue eyes. Blonde hair kept that way with the help of a bottle. Even under the windbreaker it was obvious that she was buxom and full-figured now, but she could imagine a different appearance twenty, even ten years ago.

“Jane, I don’t understand how you can be so nonchalant and relaxed.”

The woman turned on her. “Honey, this is my twelfth delivery. One hundred and forty girls, give or take the few that didn’t make it. Besides…” She swept the area with an arm, “this was my home.”

Cindy took another step backward. But Jane was somewhere else and never noticed. “I started out serving the men in the mess and ended up servicing them. You’ve never met a man as randy as one cooped up in the woods for 120 days. For fifteen years, I was a camp follower.”

She kept walking and chatting until they reached a teepee burner. “You know, this still works. It was a major tourist attraction for the town of Wolf Creek. They’d light it up every Friday. She walked over to a conveyer belt. “This still works, too. It would take the wood pulp up and dump it down to feed the fire.” She kept talking as if addressing a crowd. “Did you know that this burner is twice as high as the diameter of the base?”

Cindy was staggered by Jane’s sudden change.

“The bottom fell out of the timber business and the owner of the camp, Dayton Light, approached me about running a camp that operated under the guise of a home for troubled teens, but really provided girls for the sex trade. Well, I can tell you that I was filled with fear. I’d already been busted a half a dozen times for solicitation. But the money he promised was too good to pass up.”

Like Jekyll to Hyde, Jane changed from soft-spoken to a harsh taskmaster. “We’ve lingered long enough. Frank should be back by now.”
 

Chapter Thirty-six

Claire came up behind her husband and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her. “How’s Amy?”

“She’ll be fine. She’s just come to the end of her endurance for all the excitement. I’ll go check on Ellen.”

Link stopped touching his nose, checking for blood, and rocked forward onto his knees. “What are you doing with those girls?” Rye handed the gun to Claire, stepped over, lifted him to his feet by his leather jacket, and took half a step back.
 

“Keeping them out of your hands.”

In a move she’d never seen him use, Rye pulled back a fist as though he was going to hit Link in the face, which caused him to protectively raise both hands. Then Rye punched him in the stomach with the other.

Link doubled over trying to catch his breath. Rye dragged him to his feet and shook him until he stopped gasping. “Why would you be instructed to stop us?”

Link shook his head to focus. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We pulled a receiver from your ear just after your first visit. Someone on the other end, part of your task force, was instructing you to stop us at any cost. Now, why was that?”

When he saw the other man’s anger building, he sagged until Rye pushed him away.
 

“I saw you put two girls in the bus, and there’s no sign of Paul Casey. It looked like you were transporting. I called it in and they reached the same conclusion. They came back with instructions to stop you.”

He looked from Rye to Claire. “We’ve been watching a Brazilian for the past month who we think is a buyer for a group in South America that move girls internationally. I think my boss was afraid that if you beat us to the punch, aside from the possibility of getting yourselves killed, you’d also scare off the buyer.”

Claire stepped up next to her husband, hoping to defuse some of his anger. “Paul Casey, the owner of the bus, was injured when he attempted to locate some of the girls at Camp Hiouchi who were about to be transported. We think he followed them here and for some reason, abandoned the car.”

Rye forcefully sliced the air with an open hand. “You’re either with us or against us.”

Link looked from one to the other. “For Christ sake, I’m with you. But these people are ruthless. They sell these girls for hundreds of thousands of dollars each and there are millions at stake with each delivery. If they think you’ll get in the way or try to stop them…” He looked directly at Rye. “You’re as good as dead.”

The two men locked eyes until Claire broke the stare down. “C’mon, who’d be suspicious of a family in a VW bus checking out historical Wolf Creek?”

Link wiped a hand on his leather chaps, extended it, and took a step in Rye’s direction. “Truce?”

Rye hesitated. “If I find out that you’re anything less than honest with us, you’ll be the one as good as dead. I promise.” Then he shook the man’s hand. Link looked over at Claire and extended a hand toward the gun. “Is he always like this?”

She looked at her husband then back at Link. “I’d take him at his word. And I’ll keep the gun for now.”

“I’ll stash the bike and ride in the back of the bus.”

When he emerged from the bushes where he hid his motorcycle, Rye confronted him at the side of the bus. “I want you up in the passenger seat where I can keep an eye on you.”