PART 2:
Her grip on Lily’s shoulder loosened just slightly. Lily looked at the big biker. He was staring at her with his head tilted, his brow furrowed. “See me,” Lily thought desperately.
“Please, please see me.” She raised her right hand slowly, carefully, like she was just stretching her cold fingers, and she made the sign. Stone’s coffee cup slipped from his fingers and hit the ground.
He didn’t notice. He didn’t notice Bulldog asking what was wrong. Didn’t notice the snow soaking into his boots. Didn’t notice anything except the little girl across the parking lot with her right fist pressed against her left palm.
Both hands lifting upward in a motion he’d seen 10,000 times before. Help. The universal sign for help. the exact same way Emma used to sign it when she fell off her bike or had a nightmare or just needed her daddy to hold her.
Stone stopped breathing. The girl’s eyes locked onto his, blue as winter sky, wide with fear. She mouthed two words, no sound, just lips moving. Please help. Then her hands moved again, faster this time, more urgent.
She pointed at the woman, made a sign Stone knew better than his own name. Not crossed her index fingers, pulled them apart. My palm flat against her chest. Mom. Hand shape of the letter M, tapping her chin.
Not my mom. Stone felt the world tilt sideways. Brother, you okay? Bulldog grabbed his arm. Stone, talk to me. Stone couldn’t talk. His throat had closed completely. The little girl was still signing, her hands trembling visibly even from this distance.
She took me four days. Help me, please. Stone knew every single sign. He knew them because Emma had taught him. Because he’d spent eight years learning a language so he could talk to his daughter.
And even six years after her death, he hadn’t forgotten a single word. Bulldog. Stone’s voice came out like gravel. That kid is being kidnapped. What? How do you She just told me in sign language.
That woman is not her mother. Bulldog’s face went hard. You sure? Stone was already moving. Get the brothers. Block every exit. Nobody leaves this parking lot until I figure out what’s happening.
Lily saw the big man start walking toward her. Her heart soared so high she thought it might burst out of her chest and fly away. He understood. Oh god, he understood.
But then Christine looked up from her phone. Her eyes narrowed. Her grip on Lily’s shoulder tightened until it burned. What are you looking at? Lily forced herself to shrug. Nothing.
I’m cold. You’re always cold. Christine’s gaze swept the parking lot, landed on the biker heading their direction, her jaw tightened. We’re going back to the car. But you said bathroom now.
Christine spun around, dragging Lily with her, away from the convenience store, away from the biker, toward the white Honda Pilot parked at the edge of the lot. Lily dug her heels into the snow.
No, no, I don’t want to. Shut up. Christine’s voice was pure poison. I told you what happens if you make a scene. Your mother is still in that hospital bed.
One phone call and my friend finishes the job. Lily felt ice spread through her veins that had nothing to do with the cold. Mommy. The last thing Lily remembered before waking up in Christine’s car was her mother falling.
The Walmart parking lot. The strange smell. her mom’s eyes rolling back as she collapsed against the shopping cart. Is she? Lily’s voice cracked. Is my mom alive for now? Christine smiled.
And it was the most terrifying thing Lily had ever seen. [clears throat] Whether she stays that way depends on you. So get in the car, keep your mouth shut, and stop trying to be clever.
Lily stumbled toward the Honda. Every step felt like walking into a grave, but she couldn’t stop looking back. The biker was still coming faster now, his long legs eating up the distance.
Other men in leather vests were appearing from the convenience store, from beside fuel pumps, from behind parked trucks. They moved like wolves, silent, coordinated, deadly. Christine didn’t notice. She was too focused on Lily, too focused on getting to the car.
She yanked open the back door and shoved Lily inside. I said, “Get in, [clears throat] ma’am.” The voice was deep as a canyon and twice as cold. Christine froze with her hand on the door.
Lily twisted around to look. The big biker stood 3 ft away. His blue gray eyes weren’t sad anymore. They were burning. Stone looked at the woman and felt something primal rise in his chest.
something he’d kept chained for six years because he was terrified of what it might do if he ever let it loose. “Step away from the car,” he said. The woman’s face cycled through three expressions in one second.
Confusion, fear, recovery. She settled on indignant. “Excuse me, who the hell do you think you are?” I’m someone who knows when a kid is asking for help. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
This is my niece. She’s throwing a tantrum because I won’t buy her candy. Now, if you’ll move, she signed to me. The woman blinked. What? American sign language. Stone took a step closer.
She told me you’re not her mother. She told me you took her 4 days ago. The woman’s laugh was too loud, too sharp. That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t even know sign language.
You’re crazy. I’m calling the police. Good. Stone’s voice didn’t waver. Call them. I’ll wait. The woman’s eyes darted to the left, to the right. More bikers had materialized around her.
Bulldogs stood by her front bumper. Two others blocked the path to the exit. Three more were positioned behind Stone. This is harassment. The woman’s voice went high and thin. You’re all threatening me.
This is Lady. Stone stepped so close he could see the panic in her pupils. I learned sign language to talk to my daughter. I practiced it every day for eight years.
That little girl in your car just told me her name is Lily. She was taken from a Walmart in Denver and her mother is in the hospital because you drugged her.
The woman’s face went white. Stone continued. Now you can stand there and lie to me or you can run or you can try to drive away. But I should warn you, there are 30 of my brothers in this parking lot right now and more coming.
And if what that little girl just told me is true, God himself won’t be able to save you from what happens next. The woman’s mouth opened, closed, opened again, then she ran.
Lily screamed when Christine bolted. No, don’t let her go. But the woman didn’t get far. Three steps, maybe four. Then a biker the size of a small mountain stepped directly into her path.
Christine tried to dodge left. Another biker blocked her. Right. Another one. She spun around wildeyed and ran straight into the big man’s chest. His hands closed around her arms like vice grips.
Let me go. Let me go. This is assault. Bulldog. Call the sheriff. The big man’s voice was terrifyingly calm. Tell them we’ve got a kidnapping suspect in custody at the Flying Jay on I80.
Already done, brother. Deputies on his way. Christine thrashed and screamed, “You can’t do this. I have rights. That kid is lying. ” Lily scrambled out of the car on shaking legs.
The cold hit her like a fist, but she didn’t care. The big man looked down at her, and Lily saw something in his eyes that made her breath catch. Tears.
This giant, terrifying, leatherclad mountain of a man had tears rolling down his weathered cheeks. She lifted her hands and signed slowly, carefully, the way Mia had taught her. “Thank you.
You saved me. ” The big man’s face crumpled. He signed back, his movements rough, but perfectly formed. “My name is Stone. You’re safe now. No one is ever going to hurt you again.” Lily burst into tears.
She didn’t remember moving. One second she was standing in the snow, shaking and crying and so cold she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. The next second she was wrapped in something warm, something that smelled like leather and engine oil in safety.
The big man Stone [clears throat] had pulled off his vest and wrapped it around her like a blanket. His arms came around her and Lily sobbed into his chest. I tried to tell people,” she choked out.
“I tried so many times. The hotel lady, the gas station man, nobody believed me. She always had an answer. She always made me look like the liar.” “I know, sweetheart.” Stone’s voice was rough as sandpaper.
“I know, but you didn’t give up. You kept trying. That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. She said she’d kill my mom.” Lily couldn’t stop the words now. They poured out like water from a broken dam.
She said she has someone at the hospital. My mom got hurt and she’s in the hospital and Christine said if I didn’t behave. Your mom is alive. Lily went rigid.
What? Bulldog just got off the phone with Denver PD. Your mother woke up 6 hours ago. She’s been screaming your name ever since. Lily’s knees buckled. Stone caught her before she could fall.
Mommy’s okay? Lily’s voice came out tiny, fractured, like glass about to shatter. She’s really okay. She’s really okay, and you’re going to see her soon. I promise. Lily clung to Stone’s shirt and cried harder than she’d ever cried in her life.
But for the first time in 4 days, the tears weren’t from fear. They were from relief. The sheriff’s deputy arrived 12 minutes later. Thomas Reed, according to the badge, 50some years old, blonde hair going gray, with a face that said he’d seen plenty of bad things in his career, but wasn’t prepared for this.
Someone want to explain why there are 30 bikers blocking my parking lot? Stone stepped forward, still holding Lily against his side. We’ve got a suspected kidnapper in custody. The child was taken from Denver 4 days ago.
Her mother was assaulted and hospitalized. The suspect goes by Christine Moore, but that’s probably not her real name. Deputy Reed’s eyes dropped to Lily. That true, sweetheart? Lily nodded, not trusting her voice.
The woman claims the child is her niece. Reed’s tone was careful, professional. She’s demanding we arrest all of you for assault and false imprisonment. She’s lying. Lily finally found words.
My name is Lily May Harper. My mom is Rachel Harper. We live at 2,847 Oakwood Drive in Denver. I was taken from the Walmart on Kfax Avenue 4 days ago.
That woman said she was my mom’s friend, but she’s not. She drugged my mom and put me in her car, and she was taking me somewhere bad. Please, please, you have to believe me.
Deputy Reed studied her face for a long moment. Then he looked at Stone. How did you know something was wrong? She signed to me. Signed American Sign Language. Stone’s voice thickened.
My daughter was deaf. She taught me. This little girl made the sign for help, then told me the woman wasn’t her mother. Reed’s eyebrows rose. The kid knows sign language.
My best friend is mute. Lily lifted her chin. Mia Rodriguez. She taught me so we could talk. I learned help and danger in emergency in case something bad ever happened.
Reed was quiet for five full seconds. Then he pulled out his radio. Dispatch, I need a check on a missing person’s report. Lily May Harper, age 8, possible abduction from Denver.
Mother Rachel Harper, hospitalized assault victim. [clears throat] and get me FBI liaison on the line. This sounds like it might be bigger than a simple custody dispute. Christine screamed from where two bikers held her arms.
This is insane. I’m telling you, she’s lying. Kids lie all the time. Ma’am. Reed’s voice went flat. You might want to stop talking. Everything you say can be used against you, and I’m about 2 minutes from reading you your Miranda rightites.
Christine’s mouth snapped shut, but her eyes her eyes found Lily across the parking lot, and the hatred in them made Lily’s blood freeze solid. 20 minutes later, the FBI confirmed what everyone already knew.
Lily May Harper had been reported missing 4 days ago. Her mother, Rachel Harper, had been found unconscious in a Denver Walmart parking lot, drugged with ketamine. Rachel had woken up 6 hours earlier and told police everything she remembered.
A woman approaching her in the store, claiming to know Lily’s teacher, offering to help carry groceries to the car. The next thing Rachel remembered was waking up in a hospital bed 3 days later.
Catherine Walsh. FBI agent Sarah Mitchell’s voice crackled through Deputy Reed’s radio. Real name Katherine Walsh, 42 years old, multiple aliases. She’s connected to a trafficking network that operates across state lines.
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