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  “Hi Frannie,” he said when she opened the door. “Got a minute?”

  She looked back inside and said, “Sure, Dan. Want to sit out here on the porch?”

  It was cold but Frannie knew her mom would be listening to every word they said. She didn’t invite Dan over unless it was one of the nights Loretta played bunco. She was in three different bunco groups. She had her own sitting room with a television in the back of the house, but she had caught her mother listening to their conversation on more than one occasion.

  They sat down on the porch swing. Frannie pulled the sweater close around her and folded her arms.

  “How’s your case going?”

  “Not good, Frannie. We didn’t find her.”

  “You mean Etta Summers?”

  “Yeah.”

  She brushed her dark bangs out of her eyes. “That’s too bad.”

  “Frannie, someone mentioned to me you had a new customer who smokes cigars this week.”

  She made a face and wrinkled her nose. “Yes. He’s awful. He’s been in every morning this week. He’s greasy looking, his clothes are rumpled, and he has body odor, not to mention the disgusting cigar smell that stays with him like a skunk.”

  “Have you ever seen him before this week?” Dan asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I guess he might be somebody new that’s moved in over in hellville. He looks like that’s where he belongs.”

  “Frannie, you know Crazy Mary was murdered over there, right?”

  “I heard that.”

  Put two and two together, Frannie, he thought and wondered why she wouldn’t have reported this guy who showed up the day Mary was killed, and Etta Summers was kidnapped.

  “She was murdered the same day Etta was kidnapped,” he said. “And the same day this guy shows up. You don’t think all that might have been connected?”

  She looked at him and her eyes grew wide. “You think maybe he did it?”

  “I don’t know, Frannie. Maybe you should have called me or told one of my deputies. They were asking about strangers at every business. Didn’t Bix come by?”

  She became a little defensive. He saw the change in her demeanor and the look on her face. Frannie was almost two years older than Dan, but they’d been in the same grade in school because Frannie had been held back a year. She was self-conscious about it still. Even though they’d discovered it was a common learning disorder that was treatable with proper instruction, she never got over the stigma that she felt because of being held back.

  That lack of confidence was why she married someone she was not in love with. She never thought she was loveable. She had simply settled. She seemed to always have to settle.

  When Dan had asked her to dinner a few months ago, she swore she would not mess it up, but more and more she felt like he was just being nice to her because he felt sorry for her. Other than a light peck on the cheek, he’d never even kissed her.

  “Frannie, common sense would tell you that maybe you should have called us about this guy,” he said.

  “Yeah. I guess I’m sorry,” she said, but he could tell she wasn’t.

  “I just want you to be careful,” he said. “If this guy shows up, call me. Keep your cell phone by you and hit my number. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll see that it’s you and I’ll be right there. Okay?”

  “Okay, Dan.”

  He patted her knee, got up and walked to the steps. “Be careful, Frannie.”

  “You think maybe you’d like to have dinner sometime this week?” she asked hopefully.

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Frannie. This case isn’t over. Hopefully in a few days, okay?”

  She nodded and watched him walk down the stairs and get into his cruiser.

  “Did you run that boy off, Frances?” Loretta asked her as she came in the house.

  Frannie rolled her eyes, huffed and walked to her room. “Dan Baker is not a boy, Mama, and no, I did not run him off.” She slammed her door.

  Loretta stared at the closed door. “I was just kidding, Frances.”

  Chapter 19

  Tully walked through the veterinarian’s waiting room and stood at the counterDoc Sam’s office door and waited for his receptionist to finish the call she was on. When the young woman hung up, Tully told her why she was there.

  “Yes,” said the receptionist. “Let me get Doc Sam for you.”

  The vet walked out into the reception area momentarily. With head down and hands in pockets, Sam Huber looked distressed.

  Looking up and seeing Tully standing at the window, her eyes softened and she smiled as she recognized the woman standing at the window. “Hello, Tully.”

  Tully turned around. “Well, look at you. I didn’t know you were the new veterinarian that took over for James.”

  “It’s good to see you, Tully. I didn’t know it was you picking him up. A deputy sheriff brought him to us,” Sam said.

  “Danny asked me to come pick him up. Does he know you’re back in town?” Tully asked.

  Sam shook her head. “I doubt it. How is he? Married with a bunch of kids, I imagine.”

  Tully laughed. “Hardly. He only dates women he knows he’ll never fall in love with. It’s his safety net.”

  Sam smiled and said, “Well, let’s get Salty for you. Come on back.”

  Salty was in the largest crate in the office, sitting up, his long, mottled tongue hanging out of his smiling mouth and his tail wagging.

  Tully walked over and reached in to pet the dog. He licked her hand and perked up his floppy ears as much as possible.

  “Hi, Salty. How are you boy?”

  “He’s just fine. It was touch and go for a while, but after we pumped his stomach, we gave him something to counteract the poison. With a couple days of hydration and some food, he’s as good as new now. What about his owner? Has she been found?” Sam asked, opening the crate and hooking a leash to his collar.

  Tully shook her head and said, “No. They’re now calling it a murder. They think the guy’s real name is Carl Schemke, but he went by the name of Summers most recently. The poor woman was married to the creep.”

  Sam asked if they thought Schemke was still around. Tully told her that no one had seen him, but someone who has been associated with him in the past and possibly the one who killed Mary was seen the previous day in the bakery. She didn’t go into the details of Schemke’s M.O. that Dan had shared with her.

  “They have a forensic artist coming in to work with Frances Gorman today. It seems the guy has an apple fritter addiction. He was in four days in a row and she didn’t bother telling anyone. It’s possible they could have caught Schemke if she’d let someone know about him,” Tully said.

  “Frannie?”

  “Yes. You remember her, don’t you? The little mealy-mouthed twit annoys the hell out of me. I don’t know how… ” Tully stopped before she divulged that Dan had been seeing Frannie.

  “How would Fannie know if the guy was associated?” Sam asked, walking Tully to the reception area.

  “She wouldn’t, but she was asked by Deputy Bixby if she’d seen any strangers. Honestly, that woman hasn’t got the brains God gave a squirrel.”

  Tully gave Frannie no slack. She’d seen so many women like her when she went through her own horrible two years in the clutches of human traffickers—weak and needy women, just like Tully had been herself.

  Sam smiled and told Tully she had to get back to work. “Tell Dan I said hello. Bring Salty back next week so I can make recheck him.

  “Thanks, Samantha. I know Danny’s gonna be tickled pink that old Salty’s good as new. He’s got a soft spot for dogs.”

  Sam said goodbye and left Tully with the receptionist to settle the bill, which wasn’t cheap.

  On the way out the door, she looked down at the dog and said, “I hope you’re worth it.”

  ****

  Salty made himself comfortable in front of the fire in the pub while Tully poured coffee for Dan, three FBI agents, a pr
ofiler, a forensic artist, and a woman and man from the Coast Guard’s Search and Rescue Team. The SAR Team had given their report.

  “So that’s pretty much it. There was no evidence of anything at any of the caves for fifteen miles south or north. Of course, anything that may have been there went out with the tide.”

  SAR was released to leave, and then Special Agent Levi stood at the head of the table and addressed the rest of the attendees at the meeting, holding up a composite drawing and a photograph.

  Pointing to the composite drawing he said, “This is the man Ms. Gorman described. She was pretty accurate, because we recognized the guy right off. His name is Lester Gutierrez. He goes by the name of Chug, because he’s like a freight train. He’s got a rap sheet as long as Santa’s naughty list, and he’s most definitely on it. He’s mean and he has no conscience. He’s known to work with loose networks of criminals, not highly sophisticated organizations. This outfit we’re after now is one of the latter, which means Chug has stepped out of his element.”

  “This,” he put down the drawing of Lester Gutierrez and pointed to the photograph, “is Carl Schemke. There are three other photos of him.” He passed the other three photos around. “In each one, he’s changed his hair color, facial hair, and some of his features. But notice the eyes. The eyes never change. People say the eyes of a man are a window into his soul. Make no mistake, Carl Schemke has no soul. He preys on women, for himself and the people he works for. He’s left a long list of victims behind him, and those are the only ones we’ve found. Out there somewhere are many others who he’s kidnapped himself or had it done.

  “Study his face, burn it into your memory. The lines around his mouth and at the corner of his eyes can be altered, as can his cheekbones, his chin, lips and nose. The eye color can change, but the shape of them, the sleepy lids, how the heavy eyebrows tilt down at the center of his forehead—those rarely change. The way his eyes almost look sympathetic. Ironic, isn’t it?

  “Well, there’s someone here who can give you an even better idea of the kind of man we’re looking for.”

  Levi stood aside and Tully put down the coffee pot and stood at the head of the table. Her shimmering teal blue duster floated around her over a black, low cut tank top and leggings. She wore a Nakai Navajo squash blossom necklace and three large turquoise rings on her hands that were further embellished with long hot pink nails. Her auburn hair was pulled up into a loose cascade and her makeup matched the rest of her persona—bold and beautiful. Anyone looking at Tully would think beauty and fashion were first and foremost in her psyche, but they would be wrong. Tallulah Ryan was tough, strong-willed, forthright and smart. And above all, she was compassionate.

  She looked around the table, and when she came to Dan, she smiled and took a deep breath. “I know firsthand how these monsters work. Carl Schemke doesn’t distinguish between the ones he takes for himself and the ones he turns over to his bosses.

  “Human trafficking spans all demographics. As you might expect, runaways and homeless youth are very vulnerable to trafficking. They lack a strong supportive family network. They’re usually unfamiliar with their environments. The traffickers usually approach their victims at bus and train stations, shelters or other public places such as shopping malls. You could be watching it happen and never realize it. They’ll often trap these women into a relationship, such as what Schemke did. They pretend to care, feigning affection and then it turns to manipulation.

  “Foreigners who are trafficked within the states are even more susceptible to trafficking and exploitation. Sometimes, in an effort to get back to their own country, they are promised financial help in return for prostitution. They make their victims dependent upon them.

  “Women who’ve experience trauma, domestic violence, and molestation are vulnerable. Women who lack self-confidence, who are starved for love—any vulnerability—these women are targets. But don’t misunderstand me. It’s not only young women. Etta was almost forty when she met Schemki. Any age, any background, any economic level, any ethnicity… man, woman, or child can be a victim.”

  Levi stood beside Tully and thanked her. Then he turned to the group and said, “We have our work cut out for us people, not only in this case, but every day. Be watchful. If we shut down a dozen trafficking operations, it wouldn’t make a dent in this problem, but we do what we can.

  “We’ll be going back to Charlotte and leaving Sheriff Baker to gather what he can here. If you need us Baker, just call and we’ll be back in a flash. We’ve got more leads on the person who might be running this particular ring. I think we might be dealing with someone who is so far under the radar that he could be living right next door to you.”

  ****

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I heard you have the best apple fritters anywhere around,” he said.

  “Yes, if I do say so myself,” she said to good looking man with the kind eyes standing on the other side of the counter.

  “I’ll take a dozen,” he said smiling.

  “They’re pretty good size. Are you feeding a big family?” Frannie asked.

  He laughed. It was a gentle laugh. “Just some for my mother and the rest for me.”

  She boxed up the pastries and passed them across the counter. He touched her hand and she felt it all through her body. As he handed her the money, he stared at her.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” he said.

  As she took the man’s money, she noticed his gold figural signet ring with a mother of pearl face.

  “Beautiful ring,” she said. “Are you from around here?”

  “No, but I’m not far away. I was actually born here. I was visiting a relative here today. She happened to mention your apple fritters to me. Your husband’s a lucky man,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m not married. My husband passed away a long time ago,” she said nervously.

  “Well, then, maybe I’m the lucky man. I’m Brian.” He held out his hand and she hesitantly shook it.

  “Frances. People call me Frannie,” she said.

  “I’ll be in again, Frannie,” he said, and then he left.

  Chapter 20

  She lay in a twin bed facing a shiplap wall of knotty pine. She was in a fetal position, her hands clinched in fists. Hearing the buzz and clicking of a fan, she turned her head to the ceiling. The fan rocked back and forth with the whirring rotation of four blades. It was cold and when she tried to pull the thin, blanket higher, her hands hurt. She saw that they were bruised and cut.

  She felt every part of her body protest in pain as she rolled onto her back. Raising herself up on her elbows, she looked around the clean but sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed, there was a three-drawer dresser with a Buddha statue and a small Boston fern setting on top, a lamp on a table by the bed, and a Windsor style rocking chair by the single window. Bright sunlight shone through sheer curtains over the window.

  She slowly swung her legs around and sat up. As she did, the blanket dropped, and she realized she was naked. There was a grey and blue plaid bathrobe draped on the footboard of the bed. She picked it up, put it on, and tied the sash at her waist. It was much too big, but it was warm.

  As she stood up, she nearly fell. Her legs were weak, and her foot hurt. She looked down and saw the red marks above and below a white bandage that was wrapped around her ankle. She closed her eyes and began to remember.

  He had held her under the water. She had fought him, holding her breath, turning and twisting in the icy water—his hands on her back pushing her down, holding her under. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode. With her heart pounding against her ribs, she was grabbing at nothingness, and then her hands wrapped around and gripped something, pulling, trying to hold onto life. It was the chain that held her and she felt it loosen as the eyebolt came free from the rock wall and dropped to the floor of the cave, stirring up sand and silt. She relaxed everything as if life had begun slipping away. The taste of the briny water was almo
st sweet. A sweet release.

  She didn’t feel when he let her go. She didn’t remember anything except the pain of air entering her lungs once more. When she had coughed up so much water that she was able to take a breath again, she stood and looked around. The water was up to her neck. She wasn’t out of danger. The water was still rising, and he could be anywhere. Then she remembered the chain was no longer bolted to the rock. Slowly and carefully, she moved along the cave wall. She thought perhaps if she moved far enough back in the cave, the water wouldn’t be so deep. If he came back, perhaps he wouldn’t be able to see her and would think she had finally yielded to the tide.

  It seemed like such a long time, so far, but finally there was a rock she could climb upon to get out of the water. It was colder out of the water than in, but she had become numb to the shivering and the pain. She found herself in another chamber of the cave, one that she could not see before. It was so dark, but there was a sliver of light coming from a crevice on the other side. She got off the rock and swam toward the light. It wasn’t easy dragging the heavy chain—more like a clumsy dog paddle. When she finally reached the other side where the light was coming from, she saw that the crevice was large enough for her to get through. She was so tired, so cold. If she rested for only a moment, she knew that it would be the end, so she kept going.

  There was nothing else. She couldn’t remember how she got out or came to be in that room. She moved the curtain aside and looked out the window. There was a man not far from the window hoeing furrows in the wet earth. He turned to the window and saw her. He held his hand up in a wave and the sun glinted off of something shiny.

  ****

  Dan sat at his desk looking at the file on Lester Gutierrez. The man had been in and out of jail and prison since he was little more than a child. His early crimes became more serious and dangerous the older he got. His underbite, small round eyes and heavy jowls made him look like a bulldog. Barrel-chested and overweight, there was nothing redeeming about the man. He was a large ugly package of unsympathetic nasty.