Part 2 (1/2)
”Genna Snow.”
”The boss sent his wife wife?” Aidan's brows lifted in surprise.
”Who better to look into a phony religious movement led by a bunch of self-appointed apostles who seem to be attracting a lot of runaways and street kids? All adolescent girls, many of whom seem to have disappeared into thin air?” Both agents knew Genna Snow's story. As a child, she'd been abused by a pedophile who masqueraded as a man of the cloth. Twenty years later, he'd been released from prison and had tracked her down. She'd taken him out with one shot through the heart, but not before he'd engaged in a b.l.o.o.d.y business that had left few survivors. ”We think some of these kids are being sold over the Internet. It's a very ugly business they're running out there. Valley of the Angels, my a.s.s. More like the Valley of Lost Souls.”
”Why don't we just go in and shut it down?”
”So far, the Bureau is apparently long on suspicion and short on facts. We've been trying to get into their computers, but someone inside has been remarkably good at erecting firewalls around firewalls.” She toyed with her hair. ”Funny, but we originally started looking at Prescott because we'd traced Jules Douglas to him in Colorado. Then, the agent who went in noticed all of these messed-up young girls coming in, staying for a while, getting their acts cleaned up, then just disappearing. When he asked, the only thing he was told was that the girls had been 'cleansed' and sent on their missions.”
”Cleansed?”
”A lot of them come in drugged up, dirty, sick, right off the streets. The movement promises them a new life, new hope. They get them clean, perhaps brainwash them a bit, then sell them to willing buyers.” She made a face that spoke volumes of her disgust. ”G.o.d only knows what happens to them after that. It's no secret that there's a huge market for underage kids. From your basic pedophile to the p.o.r.n industry, there's a long line of hungry buyers just waiting for the right girl to come along. Reverend Prescott is getting very, very rich making sure that everyone finds the right girl to suit his-or her-needs.”
”Genna's found Jules and Julianne in there?”
”Are you sure you want to know?” Miranda raised one eyebrow. ”Could you know and not tell her if she asks?”
Aidan mulled the question over.
”I knew as soon as I got the call that you were on your way that we must be very close this time.”
”Closer than you know, pal.” Miranda leaned back in her chair and watched his face.
He sighed deeply.
”It's been more than seven years since Mara's ex-husband took their daughter and disappeared with her. It's ripped her apart. She won't stop searching for Julianne until she finds her. I promised I'd follow every lead with her, do whatever it took to find her daughter and bring her home. I didn't figure on having to withhold information from her.”
”How do you feel about outright lying to her? If she asks you point-blank if you believe that Julianne is not in the compound, what will you say?”
”I don't like the idea of lying to her. I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't know if I could do it. On the other hand, if she knew for a certainty that Julianne was in there, she'd walk right into the compound herself.”
”That is precisely what we're afraid of.”
”Let me ask you this. How much danger is Julianne in?”
”My guess is that her daddy has been able to s.h.i.+eld her so far. Which makes me think that old Jules is performing some big service to Prescott. We suspect he's found a way to launder some of those dirty dollars,” Miranda said softly, even as she smiled gently at Mara's approach, ”But we're still trying to build the case.”
”Hungry?” Miranda asked as Mara sat back down.
”Not really.” She shrugged.
”Well, I am ravenous.” Miranda caught the eye of the tall blonde waitress who was leaning against the counter, watching them. ”As long as we're here, we might as well eat. Then, if it's okay with you, I'll hitch a ride to the airport with you.”
”We'll need to check on a flight, I suppose,” Mara said, grim defeat drawing down the corners of her mouth.
”Taken care of.” Miranda patted her bag. ”Compliments of the federal government.”
”You knew we'd leave with you?” Mara asked suspiciously. Her sister was a profiler with the FBI, and Mara knew sometimes things weren't exactly as they seemed.
”I picked them up when I made my own flight arrangements. I figured . . .” Miranda paused and smiled as the waitress approached, paper menus in hand, which she distributed silently.
”Thanks, Jayne,” Miranda said, noting the waitress's name tag. ”We'll let you know when we're ready to order.”
”Not very friendly, is she?” Mara frowned when the waitress had disappeared into the kitchen.
”Oh, I'm sure she has her good points.” Miranda skimmed over the menu.”Anyway, as I was saying, I figured you'd be wanting to go back east. I mean, why waste precious vacation time on a dead lead, when a live one might pop up later on?”
Mara pondered the logic. It did make sense.
”Okay, if you're sure.” Mara turned to Aidan. ”You're sure, right? That it's the right thing to do? You're convinced that Julianne is not with Reverend Prescott's group?”
”I am absolutely convinced it's the right thing to do,” he told her, choosing his words carefully. ”Miranda wouldn't have come all this way to turn us in the wrong direction.”
”Okay.” Mara sighed, shaking her head slowly. ”You know, I felt so sure this time-”
”I know, baby.” Aidan rubbed her shoulders. ”Maybe next time.”
”It's been maybe next time maybe next time for seven years now,” she reminded him. for seven years now,” she reminded him.
Aidan looked at Miranda through guilty eyes, and appeared about to say something when Miranda's phone began to ring.
”Cahill.”
”Cahill, it's John. Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. I just got out of a meeting and heard your message.” John Mancini, head of a special crimes unit within the FBI, sounded uncharacteristically tense. ”Are you still-what was the phrase you used-hoofing it down Route 387?”
”No, right now I'm sitting in Ye Old b.u.mf.u.c.k Falls Cafe with Aidan and Mara, about to order lunch. Then, because my car rolled over and played dead about six miles back, I'll be getting a ride to the airport with them. You might want to have someone pick up the car and return it, by the way. It's charged to the Bureau.”
”Mara's agreed to leave?”
”Not a problem.” Miranda studied the chipped polish on one of her fingernails.
”Have you told s.h.i.+elds the truth?”
”I didn't have to.” She rested the phone on her shoulder and motioned to Aidan to order her a roast beef sandwich by pointing to the specials board. The sandwich was the only special.
”Good, good. Well, try not to miss your flight, Cahill. You need to be in Fleming, Pennsylvania, by noon tomorrow.”
”What's in Fleming?”
”An old friend of yours was just released from prison.”
”Old friend of mine?” She frowned.
”Archer Lowell. Ring a bell?”
”Sure. Amanda Crosby's stalker. What's he up to?”