Saving Hope: Men of the Texas Rangers Book 1 Read online

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  A half hour later, Wyatt pulled his silver Ford F-150 off the country road and parked behind Daniel’s black SUV. The crime scene techs were crawling all over the area like ants on their hill. Not far from the pockmarked highway sat an older white 8-passenger van. Along the side, a deep groove ran its length as if someone had keyed it. As he approached the FBI agent, Wyatt noted the vehicle’s Texas tag number. Then his gaze fell upon the flat back tire, the other one stuck in a muddy patch of ground.

  “Is that where they found the body?” Wyatt gestured to the left toward a cluster of men and one woman standing in a grove of trees.

  “Yeah. I had them wait until you came to transport the body.” Daniel started forward.

  “How’d you identify the victim so quickly?”

  “I’ve been monitoring the missing girls in this region. That one stood out to me. She disappeared about a year ago. She was fourteen at the time. Her parents had insisted she’d been kidnapped, that she wasn’t a runaway. They hounded the FBI office in Oklahoma, demanding they find their daughter. She vanished. One classmate said she had been hanging out with a new group of friends and had a secret boyfriend. Older. None of her classmates knew the friends or boyfriend. The case sent up a red flag to me.”

  “So you suspected she’d been wooed by a recruiter?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel stopped in the middle of the meadow, took out his cell, and passed it to Wyatt. “This is the photo the parents used for the Amber Alert. She fits the profile of someone the recruiter would go after. Not overly beautiful but not unattractive.”

  Wyatt stared at the picture of a young girl with red hair pulled back in a ponytail, a big smile and large gray eyes. But what caught his full attention was that look of innocence in her expression. His own daughter with gray eyes and long dark red hair came to mind. The two similarities knotted his gut. He tore his gaze from the photo. “How old was she when this pic was taken?”

  “The month before. You see it, too.”

  “The innocence. Yeah. That seems to attract a certain predator.” His grip on the phone strengthened, his jaw clenched so tightly pain streaked down his neck. Finally, he released his hold and gave the phone back to Daniel. “They’re getting younger and younger.”

  “You know the statistics. The average age has become thirteen.”

  Maddie isn’t much older than thirteen. The fact drove a sharp blade straight through his heart.

  Daniel continued his trek across the pasture. “I don’t think they expected the body to be found so fast. It was buried in a shallow grave.”

  “You think the death was recent?”

  “The medical examiner says within the past twelve hours. He’ll know more after an autopsy is done.”

  “How was the girl found?”

  “The rancher saw the van when walking across the field with his dog at dawn. While he was checking out the van, his dog began sniffing the ground. Then it raced toward the trees and started barking. When the rancher got there, the animal had dug up part of the body. That’s when he called the sheriff.”

  Wyatt paused and turned back toward the van. “So the suspect drove into this field at night got stuck and a tire went flat?”

  “Maybe he left the road because the tire went flat and ended up stuck. The end result was the suspect decided to ditch the van here and bury the body.”

  “A change in plans? Maybe. If that’s so, then I wonder where the suspect was heading with the girl.”

  Daniel resumed his trek toward the cluster of people in the grove. “We’ll ask him when we find him.”

  “Has the tag number been run?”

  “Yep, and that’s the interesting part. It belongs to Beacon of Hope, a program for teenage prostitutes. I’ve heard good things about it.”

  Wyatt knew a little about the privately funded, nonprofit organization. It was gaining a top-notch reputation for working with former teenage prostitutes from all over the Southwest. He’d considered talking with the program director to get her insight on what was happening to these girls on the streets. Possibly even interview some of the teens now that he was on the Child Rescue Task Force. It had been on his long list of things to do. “When was the van reported missing?”

  “It hasn’t been.”

  “Maybe it was stolen last night. It’s early yet. Maybe they haven’t noticed it’s missing yet.”

  “Maybe everyone is sleeping in.”

  Wyatt chuckled. “Sleeping in? What’s that?”

  “Beats me.” Daniel stopped next to a crime scene tech who stood over the dead girl, lying in the unzipped body bag.

  Wyatt fixed his attention on the teen. Ordinary features arranged in a pasty death mask surrounded by her stringy red hair. Her gray eyes vacant and staring straight up at him as though to beg him to find the person responsible. He blinked and averted his gaze from the body.

  This isn’t Maddie. He had to remember that. He had to remain detached if he was going to do his job. His hands curled at his sides. There was nothing innocent about the victim’s face now, and he intended to discover who robbed her of that. The sound of the tech zipping the body bag echoed through the stand of trees.

  Slowly, Wyatt flexed his fists. “Any physical evidence gathered?”

  “Footprints were destroyed by the rancher and his dog.” Daniel gestured at the ground nearby. “There are some at the van that might belong to the suspect and a set walking off toward the road. I have some deputies canvassing the places up and down the road to see if anyone saw someone last night.”

  “What if the suspect had a partner who picked him up? If this is part of a prostitution ring, there was probably a partner following to give the driver a ride after dumping the van.”

  “Probably. What’s down this road?”

  “Woods. A lake.”

  “Drive the van into the lake? That could work.”

  “Yeah.”

  Daniel moved back while two deputies hefted the body bag and carted it off toward the road. “We’ll scour the area, talk to everyone we can find. Let’s hope someone saw something.”

  “And I think I’ll pay Beacon of Hope a visit and tell them their van has been found.”

  After staring at the sheet of paper for ten minutes and not remembering anything she’d read, Kate closed the file and pushed it away. It wasn’t any use. She couldn’t do the normal day-to-day work running Beacon of Hope when Rose was missing. Now for thirty-eight hours, not that she was counting or anything.

  Yesterday she’d spent her time talking to the girls and discovering no one knew anything beyond what Cynthia had told her. She’d gone to the police station and filed a missing-person report, and she knew beyond checking the city hospitals, morgue, and juvenile detention center for Rose, nothing would be done. And she’d already done that herself. She still hadn’t reported the van missing, however. She would have to soon. But she kept praying that the teen would appear at Beacon of Hope with the vehicle.

  The sound of her office door opening caught Kate’s attention. An older woman with short black hair, wearing a designer sundress with a short-sleeveed jacket entered. Based on her stern look, Kate resigned herself to the fact the next few minutes wouldn’t be pleasant.

  “Mother, what are you doing here?” Kate rose from behind her desk.

  “Harriet just told me a girl is missing and so is one of the vans. What is going on, Katherine?”

  “Are you asking as my mother or the head of the Winslow Foundation?”

  “Both.”

  “Rose left here two nights ago around midnight and hasn’t been back.”

  “And she took the van?” Her mother marched to the couch along the far wall and eased onto it, crossing her legs.

  With a sigh, Kate skirted her desk and took the other end of the sofa, trying to relax back against the cushion. But nothing she did mitigated the tension woven through her. “I don’t know for sure.”

  “But you think she did?”

  She nodded. />
  “What do the police say about the van?”

  “I haven’t reported it missing yet.”

  “Why not? You can’t protect them when they do something wrong. This is what thanks you get for trying to help them.”

  Her mother’s icy emphasis on the word them produced a constriction in Kate’s chest. She delayed replying—forcing oxygen into her lungs. “The teens I’m trying to help are young girls who need someone to care about them. To protect them.”

  “They—they are prostitutes.”

  “Former ones. Often these girls have been lured into a situation they can’t get out of easily, especially if there isn’t somewhere they can go to get assistance. So many of them are throwaway kids, children who their parents don’t—”

  Her mother fluttered her hand in the air. “I heard all this before when you came to the foundation for money.”

  “And I appreciate your financial support, but I need more than that.” I want you to believe I can make this work.

  “The only reason I agreed is because your father thought it would be a good tax deduction, and he didn’t want our friends to think we didn’t support our own—even in foolish endeavors.” Her mother’s sharp gaze zeroed in on Kate. “So what are you going to do about your van?”

  “If it isn’t found, I’ll use my own money to replace it.”

  “You mean from your grandmother’s trust fund.”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother clutched her Prada purse. “She didn’t give you that money to throw at a cause like—like—”

  “Don’t go there.” Kate pushed to her feet, her head throbbing. “Thank you for coming, but as you know, I’ve got a lot to do.”

  Her mother remained seated. “Like what?”

  Kate glanced away, resisting the urge to squirm under her mother’s intense scrutiny. Finally, she knew there was no way around the truth. “I’m going to go look for Rose.”

  She shot to her feet. “Katherine Winslow, you will do no such thing.”

  Kate winced at the all-too-familiar reprimand. “Thank you for dropping by.” She started for the office door.

  At the entrance, she turned back toward her mother who still stood by the couch. Her stare drilled right through Kate. An uncomfortable silence seemed to plunge the room’s temperature. She refused to allow her mother’s usual techniques to get to her.

  A minute later, her mother gripped her purse in one hand and crossed the room, her gaze never leaving Kate’s. She’d lived through many attempts at intimidation by Laura Winslow, the matriarch of her wealthy Texas family. This is no different, and I’m not giving in.

  At the door, she straightened her shoulders and looked down her nose at Kate. “I can pull my funding.”

  “Then if I have to, I’ll use my whole trust fund to keep the program going until I can find someone else who believes everyone needs a second chance.”

  Her mother blinked, doubt flickering into her eyes. “Let the police do their job.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  The haughty façade melted. “I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger.”

  “You can’t protect me forever. I’m in the Lord’s hands. I have His blessing in this endeavor.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Her mother jerked the door open and nearly collided with a six-foot man poised in her way.

  Surprise crossed her mother’s face for a few seconds before she recovered, drew herself back, and angled to the side. “Good. Someone to talk some sense into you.” Without another word, she marched down the corridor, the sound of her white high heels clicking on the tile floor.

  Kate watched her disappear from view before turning her attention to the stranger dressed in brown cowboy boots, tan slacks, white short-sleeve shirt, a black tie, a white Stetson, and a gun in a holster on his belt. She finally fixed upon the silver star pinned over his heart. A Texas Ranger. His presence filled the doorway and locked her attention on his neutral expression, not one indication of why he was at Beacon of Hope.

  Rose? Did he know something about her? “May I help you?” Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Had Rose been found dead?

  “I’m Wyatt Sheridan with the Texas Rangers.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open to show her his ID. “I need to have a word with you.”

  She stayed rooted to the spot for several seconds. Hope that he knew anything concerning Rose evaporated. Surely, the local police hadn’t called a Texas Ranger in on a missing teen’s case—one they hadn’t thought was a kidnapping.

  “Ma’am?”

  His deep Southwestern drawl yanked her back to the matter at hand. “Yes, come in.” She stepped to the side, gripping the edge of the door. After closing it, she faced the Texas Ranger with eyes like quicksilver. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “I hope so. Are you aware that your white van is missing?”

  “Yes. Have a seat.” She waved her hand toward the chair in front of her desk while she took her seat behind it. “I wasn’t aware the Texas Rangers would be interested in a missing vehicle.”

  “So it hasn’t been stolen?” He leaned back as though this was a casual conversation about the weather. “Who took the van?”

  “Why do you want to know?” She pulled her chair close to the desk and folded her hands on its wooden top—to keep them from trembling. If Rose had been found, he would have mentioned that first. Which means she wasn’t with the van.

  “It was found this morning in a field.”

  “Good,” she managed to say while inside questions assailed her, ones she didn’t want to ask out loud. Where is Rose? Where was it found? What did that mean for Rose?

  “Why haven’t you reported it missing? Who took the van?” His calm voice belied the intensity behind his queries.

  “I’m not sure who took my van.”

  His gray eyes narrowed. His mouth pinched into a frown. “Who do you think took it?”

  She glanced down at her keyboard off to the side on her desk. “A teen staying at Beacon of Hope.” She lifted her gaze to his. “But I have no proof it was her.”

  “Who?”

  “She goes by the name Rose Garland.”

  “Goes by?”

  “She was found near Garland, Texas, beaten badly. Her injuries caused quite a bit of trauma to her brain. She had holes in her memory. She insisted her name was Rose but couldn’t remember her last one. She couldn’t or wouldn’t tell the authorities anything that happened to her other than she’d been kept against her will and forced to have sex with different men. No names. Nothing. Rose decided to go by Garland. So far no one has come forward to ID her.”

  After removing a pad and pen from his pocket, the Texas Ranger leaned forward. The chiseled planes of his tanned features settled into an unreadable expression. “But you think she knows more?”

  “Yes. I think she has been regaining her memory lately.”

  “The police couldn’t find her parents?”

  “No. There wasn’t a missing person report about anyone who fits her description. No match with her fingerprints was found either. So she ended up here. This is a last-ditch place for some girls, and I work with the authorities and parents or guardians to save as many as I can.”

  He wrote a note on his paper pad. “And she hasn’t said anything to you about her past?”

  “Nothing that tells me who did that to her. The rest of what has transpired between us is confidential.” She squeezed her hands together. “Tell me why you want to know about Rose.”

  “Because we found a young girl’s body near your abandoned van.”

  Why didn’t he say that at the beginning? Her heartbeat accelerated, pounding a rapid staccato. Please Lord, not Rose. I could have helped her. I had such hope for her.

  She collapsed back in her chair. Words swirled around in her mind, refusing to form a coherent comment after his declaration. “Rose is dead,” she finally murmured.

  “I don’t think it’s Rose.
”

  The thundering of the pulse in her ears muffled his voice, and she strained forward to hear his quiet words. “You don’t think it’s Rose?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “She has been identified as Lillian Harris from Oklahoma. She was reported missing a year ago.”

  “But Rose might not be her real name. Although she remembered that, it doesn’t mean it’s her given name. I felt Rose was hiding something. I sensed she knew more than she was letting on. A lot of these girls have been terrorized and are frightened of being found and forced to go back to that life. Some never speak about it. Others finally do.”

  “Lillian’s family was actively looking for her. It doesn’t sound like Rose’s was.”

  “Still. I’d like to be sure it isn’t Rose in the morgue.”

  Surging to his feet, Wyatt unhooked his cell phone from his belt. “I can show you a photo of the girl who is dead. Just a sec.” He strode out into the hall, his voice too low for Kate to hear who he called or what he said.

  The pulsating pain behind her eyes increased. She kneaded her fingertips into her temples. If it isn’t Rose, what do I do next? That means she abandoned the van and did what? Where would she be? Why was a young girl found near the van? How is Rose involved?

  The click of the door being closed as the Texas Ranger reentered her office brought her head up, and her shoulder-length hair fell away from her face. The somber expression on his craggy face underscored the seriousness of the whole situation. The teens she’d worked with came from a horrible, terrifying life, but this was the first possible death of one of her girls while under her care. The thought of what he was about to show her iced her blood.

  He covered the distance to her desk and slid his cell across its surface. A beautiful young girl maybe thirteen or fourteen with long red hair in a ponytail, alabaster skin, and large gray eyes peered back at her. The beaming smile caught Kate’s attention and broke her heart.

  Her lungs ached from holding her breath. She finally blew a long breath out and said, “That isn’t Rose. I’ve never seen her. You think she was mixed up with prostitution?”