Buying the Virgin

Chapter 112: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Twenty-Eight

MICHAEL

Richard pauses, obviously thinking. “Do you think we want the police in on this?”

“We should have them available,” I say. “But if the area is suddenly flooded with police vehicles, someone’s going to start asking how they know to look there. If Charlotte still has her tracers, we don’t want them being taken away from her.”

“Fair point. I’ll have a word with Will and ask him to keep any police presence discreet for the moment.”

*****

I drive at a crazy speed, following James’ navigation from the previous path of the tracers. We pass the spot where Charlotte’s assorted signals separated, where we now know that she was taken from her car; where her phone was destroyed, and her bag thrown away. We pass by, still pursuing the more recent trail.

“This is where we lost the signal,” says James. Haswell says nothing, his face grim.

“You think we should just circle first?” I ask. “Try different areas to try to catch the signal?”

“Yes. You just drive. I’ll keep an eye on the trace... Wait! There... it’s back again….”

“Which way?”

I slam onto the gas. After only half a minute, James again. “Damn! It’s off again…”

“Perhaps taking her out of a car and into a building?”

“Seems plausible.”

“Did you see enough to get us there?”

“I think so, yes. Certainly, we can get closer. Keep driving. We’re losing the light.”

*****

CHARLOTTE

The truck rattles to a halt, and the engine stops.

Are we here?

The door opens, from the outside I notice, and my guard thumbs me out.

It is still daylight, and we have pulled up in woodland, at the end of a broken mud track, much ridged and rutted. Only tough, overland vehicles would be able to reach here. There is a long, low, block-built shed. Overhung by trees, the shed would not be very visible from the air.

made of

I have only a few seconds out of doors for them to transmit freely and be spotted

roofing, and my Masters will no longer be able to find me. All the while,

Is she here…?

Am I in the

guard seizes me by the arm, his fingers biting into the muscle as he drags me indoors. Without word or ceremony, I am marched through a main central room, then pushed through a side door, staggering to keep my balance as I am thrust inside.

small and cheerless, with no furnishings barring a bucket in one corner, and bars on the window;

And Beth is here….

I’ve found you….

floor, her face is tear-streaked, eyes red and swollen, her hair

She looks utterly lost.

are you

will burst into tears again. Her voice broken,

She needs to keep looking

so. If it’s any help, it was me they wanted in the

at me. “You? I thought they

and she shuffles up the blankets to make room. “They’re connected to the people who ran Blessingmoors. It’s looking as though they want to make sure

as she resists weeping. “It’s awful here. There’s things living in the blankets. They keep getting

been imprisoned by traffickers, and

Convenient though….

couple of combs out from my hair. “I know what it’s like when it gets out of control. I always use more of these than I need. Here, let me put it up for you,

her hair into braids, winding it up and pinning it with

*****

jerks down at us,

Beth up

she ill? Or just scared

are trooped into the main

meet a face I know; a face from the past, a face that once looked over teenagers as though they

he would be a handsome man were it not for the twist of cruelty

me from all

“You know me?”

“Yes. You’re Lawrence Klempner.”

not so changed that I do not remember him. He stares down at me, pursing his lips.

Of me?

that

being a teenager you know. You’re a lot better looking than you were then. Useful that.” he says. “But I do see your mother in you. You

My stomach churns.

my

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