I imagine he’ll rape you repeatedly over a period of days or maybe even weeks and then sell you or kill you.
There was no way Natalie could have understood what he’d meant. The reality that young girl had survived was so much worse than anything Natalie’s imagination could have conjured, even locked in the dark of that arachnid-infested cell.
“Shhh. Try not to think about that now.” He stroked her hair, the warmth of his body chasing the ice from her blood. It was the first time he’d held her since he’d drawn the line between them, and she wanted it to last forever. But it didn’t.
All too soon he released her and stepped back. “Are you sure you don’t want to go rest for a while?”
Natalie swallowed her disappointment, wiped the tears from her cheeks. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. And thanks.”
He stepped aside, let her walk past him and out of the bathroom. “That was Rowan on the phone. She sent some DUSMs to see whether the company that helped the soccer coach move had his new address. Turns out they never met him. They were paid in cash—an envelope of bills left in the apartment. And they didn’t move his shit into a new home. They delivered it to the Goodwill—every bit of clothing, every dish and spoon, every piece of furniture.”
Natalie willed her mind to focus on what Zach had just told her. “Was he in such a hurry to leave town that he left everything behind?”
Zach opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his cell phone. He drew it out of his pocket. “Hey, Darcangelo. What’s up?”
Natalie watched as Zach’s expression changed first to astonishment and then anger.
“You are fucking kidding me! I’m on my way.” He hung up, shoved the phone in his pocket, and strode toward the living room.
She hurried after him. “What’s wrong?”
“Your friend Joaquin took it upon himself to track down Quintana on his own, but Quintana spotted him.”
The blood rushed from her head. “Is Joaquin—”
“He’s fine—or he will be until I get ahold of him.”
What had Joaquin been thinking? Was he trying to get himself killed?
“Quintana got away?”
“No. They got him. I don’t know the details.” Zach turned into the kitchen, grabbed his keys from the counter, and shoved a belt badge over the waistband of his jeans just above his left hip.
Natalie’s fear for Joaquin gave way to a surge of relief. They’d caught Quintana. Maybe this was over. Maybe this was the end.
Oh, thank God!
Only when Zach walked to the front door did it dawn on her that he was leaving.
“Where are you going?”
“Denver PD. They’ve put him in isolation at the city jail. I’m going to lead the interrogation.”
“But I’ll be—”
“You’re safest here. Don’t leave the loft for any reason. You can call me using your new cell phone if you need me. Otherwise, you know the rules—no phone calls except on the encrypted cell and no e-mail that isn’t sent through the encrypted address. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She stood there, watching as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
He turned back toward her. “This is the biggest break we’ve gotten so far. Quintana is Cárdenas’s right-hand man, his nephew. If I can get him to talk . . .”
Natalie nodded. “Go.”
Then the door closed, and she was alone.
JOAQUIN SAT IN the hallway, still a bit stunned, his jaw aching where that bastard Quintana had punched him.
“I want him in full restraints in Interrogation Room One.” Darcangelo told Denver Police Chief Irving—the man who, until Darcangelo had been deputized, had been his boss. “No trips to the bathroom, no water, no phone calls—nothing until McBride gets here and approves it.”