“Authorities are asking everyone in the Chicago region to be on the lookout for this vehicle, driven by Madison Nelson of Barrington, who is believed to have shot her husband dead before driving through the back wall of their garage with their three children in the vehicle.”
“Dead,” Vanessa repeated softly. She’d expected it from the moment the Land Rover pulled into the driveway. Still, hearing the words, seeing the images of the house where she’d been held captive for so long, made her tremble.
Pictures flashed across the screen—her home, the prison where she’d been held, surrounded by yellow police tape. The broken-out back wall of her garage. The vehicle, which was now parked outside. Pictures of her children and a particularly unflattering photograph of her, which had been taken mere minutes after she’d given birth to Sammy after a grueling labor.
But the most horrifying thing wasn’t the pictures. It wasn’t even the fact that Jeff was dead.
“They think I killed him? Why would they think that?”
No sooner had she voiced the question than Virgil appeared on the screen, saying horrible things about her, voicing ugly motives made all the more terrifying because, to anyone who didn’t know her, they would sound plausible. And no one really knew her, not anymore. So everyone would think Virgil’s lies were true.
“You didn’t kill him?” Eric’s voice behind her was soft, even cautious.
She turned and met his eyes for the first time. “No, I most certainly did not.”
Eric looked visibly relieved.
Vanessa might have felt offended that he’d doubted her, except that, given what she’d seen on the news broadcast, he had every right to believe the worst. Gratitude welled up inside her that he was willing to trust her word over that of everyone else. She pulled out a chair and sat down, the weight of the news broadcast too much to bear standing up.
She needed to explain a few things quickly. “He kidnapped me. He hid me and gave me that name, made me dye my hair, broke my nose once and it healed with a bump.”
Eric nodded patiently. “So, who killed him?”
“He did—” she pointed at Virgil, who was still on the screen “—or one of the guys who works for him.”
For a long, silent moment, Vanessa looked at Eric, waiting for some sign that would indicate whether he believed her or not. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he didn’t. All she knew was that she had to keep her children safe. The news report was a terrifying development. Where could she go without being recognized? Where could she hide?
Finally, Eric spoke. “Can you prove these guys killed him?”
Vanessa blinked, her shock at being free, her uncertainty about what to do next, clouding her thoughts, muddling her judgment.
“Look, Vanessa, I want to help you, but this does not look good. Debbi wants to call the police.”
“No! Don’t do that. Please.” Vanessa wrapped her arms around her shoulders, wishing for the millionth time that none of this had ever happened. She’d gotten away, but only briefly. Her face was all over the news. She’d have to stay in hiding, keep her daughters in hiding, or she’d go to jail and lose her kids. “If you call the police, they’ll take the kids. I’ll go to jail, their word against mine.” She repeated the threat Jeff had ingrained in her, the fear that had kept her frozen in the basement, even when she thought about breaking out a window and running for help.
“What happened, Vanessa? You disappeared eight years ago, and everybody thought you were dead. What’s been going on?”
“It’s a trafficking ring. They’re criminals.”
“Who are? This Virgil guy?”
“And Jeff—they came to the house and killed Jeff this evening. I ran with the kids or they would have killed us, too.” She swallowed, hating the words, hating the memories. “Jeff kidnapped me eight years ago as part of this human-trafficking scheme. They take girls and traffic them, but Jeff kept me to himself. He left me tied up when he wasn’t around until Abby was born.
“Once Abby was born, he allowed me just enough freedom to take care of her, never enough to get away from him. He was always there, for every minute of every medical appointment, every second I was ever around other people, watching me, making sure I didn’t reach out for help. Not like I would try anything—I knew he’d go after my family if I did or take Abby from me. It’s a big ugly crime ring. They run drugs, too. They use the drugs to control people. Virgil’s just one piece of it.”
Eric swallowed slowly, as if forcing himself to digest her words. “Can you prove it?”
“I know a few things, but no, I don’t have any evidence against them. Any time I saw a piece of paper I wasn’t supposed to see, Jeff warned me what would happen if I ever so much as touched anything that could be used as evidence against them. I purposely closed my eyes. I had no choice.”
“The only way to prove your innocence is to prove these guys are guilty.”
“I agree.” Vanessa nodded. But at the same time, Eric’s words scared her. “But Virgil’s not the ringleader. He was Jeff’s contact, some kind of bully employed to keep guys like Jeff in line, but he wasn’t in charge. If we turn in Virgil, that’s just cutting off an arm.”
“And the real monster would turn on you,” Eric muttered, understanding. “So, who’s the ringleader? We find him, find evidence against him, and we can prove your innocence.”
Vanessa liked the idea. If they could shut down the trafficking ring, all the other innocent girls who’d been taken just like her could go free.
There was just one problem.
“I don’t know who’s in charge.”
Eric was wide-awake now, but he almost wished he could roll over and forget this nightmare had ever happened. Except that Vanessa was back. He’d prayed for her safe return, even imagined himself holding her tight if he ever had the chance again. But the fact that she was a wanted fugitive gave him pause. He wanted to believe she was innocent, but there were too many things he didn’t understand.
“Want to tell me what happened? Maybe we can sort out how to catch this guy, or what to do, or something.” Eric was also hoping that he’d learn enough to tell him whether he was crazy for trusting Vanessa. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to embrace her as he’d always pictured himself embracing her if she was ever found. But if she’d been held captive by a man for eight years, maybe she wouldn’t welcome his touch. He held back, waiting for some sign from her that would tell him if it would be okay for him to reach out to her.
“Oh, wow, where do I start?”
“How about the night you went missing?”
Vanessa closed her eyes, gulped a breath and then shook her head. “I need to start before that. You know I was working as a waitress at the Flaming Pheasant down by the interstate.”
“That’s where you were last seen, getting off work at the end of your shift. You walked out the back door, but you never came home. Your car was still in the spot where you parked it when you arrived at work.” Eric filled in what he knew.
Vanessa nodded, confirming his words. “There was a guy, the same man who was murdered this evening. Back then he was young and handsome and charming. He was a regular at the restaurant. He’d say the kindest things to me. ‘You have pretty eyes’ or ‘I like your smile’—not creepy things or even really hitting on me. I just thought he was nice, you know. Unlike a lot of other customers, he never complained, never got impatient when the kitchen was slow. The restaurant often wasn’t busy, so we’d chat. It got to where I looked forward to