Cora climbed out, and got her answer immediately, from the shouts, thuds, and metallic clangs that ricocheted around the silent lot.

  Billy Rogan, and others, were in the back of the truck.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  What were Billy Rogan and the others up to in the back of that blue truck, making those loud thuds, clangs, and grunts? Cora suspected the man wasn't just getting rid of unwanted tenants and squatters, as per his listing. She thought he was going to more extreme lengths, squirreled away in this desolate, grassy lot.

  Gabe and Cora exchanged a look, and she knew he was thinking along the same lines. They had to move in on this. And fast.

  They jumped out of the car and hustled up the slope to the empty lot. Cora stumbled over a rock, veering a few steps sideways to follow the faint tracks that the truck itself had made riding in there, and which at least left a path.

  The truck was parked facing the road, its metal grille high and aggressive, but the back ramp was open. Clearly they hadn't expected anyone to stop by. Maybe people in the neighborhood knew that truck and avoided it if they saw it. But she was here now, and they'd better watch out. She'd seen those few moments of footage on the cameras, the way they'd piled threateningly out of that car, and hustled that woman away. These were not nice men. And whatever they were doing now, she was going to stop it. Fast.

  After that, she was going to learn what the hell they'd done with that prostitute, and what, if anything, they knew about Louella.

  Cora stormed in, charging around to the darkened entrance. Her hand on her gun, she was ready for anything, and she had Gabe behind her.

  As soon as they stepped near the truck, the stench hit them. It was a mix of sweat, grease, and something else that Cora couldn't quite identify.

  And then, at the back of the storage unit, she saw the fight.

  Three men, big and muscle-bound, ganging up on one guy who was cowering in the corner, huddled down on the truck's steel floor. Arms raised, he was desperately trying to defend himself against the trio, but the meaty sound of fists into flesh told Cora they were winning.

  “Stop it! Stop it, guys, I don’t have the money! I swear, I’ll have it by next Tuesday! Give me till then, please!” The begging was curtailed by a cry, as a viciously placed boot put a stop to it.

  "Give us the cash! Now! Go on!" one of the men shouted.

  "We told you today. And we mean today," another threatened.

  "I don't have it, I don't!" The muffled, shaking words were just audible as Cora rushed closer.

  Their backs were toward her. That gave her a good advantage. Whatever abuse and extortion was going on here was stopping, now.

  One of the men raised his fist. The blow never landed. Cora grabbed him from behind, crumpling a handful of his jacket in her fist. Then, she spun him around.

  The man stumbled, caught off guard by Cora's sudden attack. He ricocheted into the wall, and as he sprawled down on his side, Gabe weighed in, grabbing the second of the two men by his arm and wrenching him sideways, sending him flying into his accomplice.

  The men stumbled and crashed into each other, giving the victim a chance to scramble to his feet and make a run for it. His footfalls thudded out of the back of the truck at a limping run, and he was gone.

  Cora let him go. Whatever he'd done, probably involving an illegal loan or some other underhanded purchase, it wasn't her business. These men were her business, particularly the one she'd grabbed hold of first. She'd seen a photo of Billy Rogan on the advert he'd placed for his services, and this man looked a lot like him.

  Hulking, with a fleshy chin, muscular shoulders, a head razored smooth, and a pugnacious set to his jaw, she thought Billy might have ended up in the job he was born for.

  What was his involvement with the prostitutes? She needed to find out. Billy might be down, but he wasn’t out of this fight. With his inherent aggression triggered, the thickset man jumped to his feet again.

  "You bitch!" he snarled, lunging at Cora with a wild swing of his arm. "You have no right to interfere!" His eyes blazed with fury.

  Cora dodged the attack and landed a swift kick to Billy's solar plexus. It wasn't as forceful as she intended it to be. She wanted it to get him down, but he was a street fighter; she could see it in his response. He twisted aside to ride the blow, and retaliated with a kick of his own, sending Cora stumbling back.

  "You should have stayed out of this, lady," he growled, circling her like a predator, sizing her up to find the weak point that would put her down for good. "You don't know who you're messing with." She could see him thinking: fists or feet? The computer in his mind was at work.

  Half sprawled on the ground, Cora watched him carefully. She knew what was at stake, and she wasn't about to let Billy Rogan get the upper hand. But maybe the quickest way to end this would be to act like a victim. That was what he was used to, and now that she was down, it might get him back into his comfort zone.

  "I'm sorry!" she gasped out the words in a quivering voice, raising shaking hands in an ineffectual shield, as if he'd really hurt her and she was ready to throw in the towel.

  He bought it. Of course he did, and he moved in for the blow that would smash her face. Raising his arm, he left his defenses wide open.

  Springing up from her cowering pose, Cora lunged at him, fists flying in a blur, landing two solid punches to his gut. It doubled him over, and she followed up with a swift kick to his kneecap. Billy howled in pain and fell to the ground, writhing and clutching his leg.

  Gabe had dealt with the other two. One was pinned to the wall, held in the grip of his large hand, blood oozing from his nose. The other was gasping for breath, doubled over, winded in a way that would take him a few minutes to recover.

  "Let's talk to Billy," she said. "Outside?"

  They dragged him to his feet and hauled him out. When they had him outside, Cora held him at gunpoint while Gabe closed up the back of the truck.

  Now his backup was disabled. Now, Billy was on his own, and she guessed that might be a very unusual experience for him. A lonely one.

  He stared up at her, still rubbing his knee, which she now wished she’d kicked harder. She needed information, and for him to be able to give it, fast. Not for him to be writhing around, preoccupied with a broken kneecap. But now, looking at his piggy, aggressive face, she regretted pulling that blow. She should have hurt him worse.

  "What the hell are you doing?" he whined, his voice surprisingly high and piping compared to his thickset build.

  Cora narrowed her eyes, keeping the gun trained on Billy's chest. "What were you doing with that man in the truck, Billy?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he sneered, trying to look tough even though he was still rubbing his knee.

  "You were at the truck stop outside town a few days ago. You and your goons, maybe even those same two guys. You chased a woman."

  "I don't - I don't remember," he stammered.

  "I'm not playing around here," Cora threatened. "Remember! Or I will shoot. I’m going to start with your foot. Ever been shot in the foot, Billy? Which one would you prefer? Left, or right?”

  She deactivated the gun’s safety with a sharp, clicking noise that made him jump.

  Billy's gaze darted around, searching for an escape. But there was none. Cora had him cornered with the gun.

  "Look, nothing happened," he spluttered, desperation now audible. "I literally can't even remember that happening. I'm - I'm making an effort for you here, okay?"

  "Why did you chase her?"

  "We made some appreciative comments to her. She got mad at us and flung insults. We decided to teach her not to."

  Cora could imagine how that had really played out.

  "Then what happened?" she asked.

  "She got away. I mean, we were just looking to scare her. To give her a fright. We wouldn't beat up on a working girl! But we didn't appreciate the abuse."

  Gabe scratched his chin thoughtfully.

  "Where did she go?" he asked.

  Billy glanced at him. "I think she got picked up."

  "You remember the car?"

  "One car in hundreds? How would I remember that?" Billy complained.

  Cora thought he wasn't trying hard enough. She deactivated the gun's safety again, and he jumped at the sound.

  "Dammit, stop threatening me!"

  "The car? You remember it?"

  "It was a Merc. It had a vanity plate," he mumbled.

  "Maybe you know it? Maybe you've seen it around?"

  Billy looked down. "Yeah, I've seen it around. I dunno who drives it, but I know enough that it's not a guy I'd mess with. The plate is Poodl. Like the dog, but shorter. Poodl. When that guy picked her up, we backed off. More than that, I'm not saying." He stared at them, and this time, she knew he meant it, because she could see he was scared.

  But she also knew they had enough, now, to find this man.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  In five minutes, Cora had discovered that the owner of the Mercedes lived in the neighboring town. Brady couldn't tell her who the car belonged to; it was registered in the name of a company, and trying to investigate that got her nowhere. But she did obtain the street address from him. The company was based in an industrial park on the edge of town.

  She and Gabe got in the car and set off, making better time now that the morning traffic had eased.

  They were following the trail, and determination filled her as they sped along the main road. She was one step closer, now that they were tracing what had happened, and this next step was a critical one.

  Who was the owner of the Mercedes 'Poodl'?

  What would they find when they arrived?

  As Cora turned into the street where this warehouse block was located, she realized one certain fact. This mission was taking them to the grimmest parts of these towns.

  "Any scenic areas this side of Ohio?" Gabe voiced the same thoughts in puzzlement as they approached the long row of warehouses.

  "It's telling us something. The people involved with these women all seem to be working in shady businesses. Billy Rogan was. And now, I bet you, the owner of Poodl is up to something here. Why would you drive a fancy car and be based from this setup?"

  "It must be a front," Gabe said grimly, and Cora had to agree.

  He could have a luxurious home elsewhere, and be using this dilapidated warehouse block for other purposes. Now it was time to find out what they were.

  Cora took a look around as they approached, slowing the car. Litter blew across the cracked blacktop. From somewhere a dog barked frantically. But that wasn't what made her uneasy.

  What prickled her instincts was that there were a few people around, but they seemed to be loitering. A young man, his face hidden behind dark glasses, leaned against a crumbling gatepost across the road, messaging on his phone. Two more men, in leather jackets, were strolling down the street, looking around them.

  Yes, they might be innocent, but they could also be lookouts. Bad business was being done here, for sure. Gangs, she was thinking. This was a gang setup.

  Was gang activity taking place in this warehouse block?

  There was no sign of 'Poodl' the car, but that didn't surprise her. If she had a fancy Merc in this area, she'd also keep it locked away.

  Changing her mind about stopping, Cora drove on by, turning a corner, and driving out of sight.

  "I don't like this setup," she said to Gabe. "Something's going on here. Those are lookouts, I'm sure of it."

  He was silent for a while, taking in what she'd said.

  "Want me to go and do a recon?" he asked. “Make like I’m an innocent, lost citizen?”

  Cora considered that. One man, on foot, would attract less notice in this area, and also be less of a target. Not that she was averse to being a target, but it might prevent them from finding out what they needed to.

  "Take a walk, and see if you can see anything," she said.

  Gabe nodded, quickly getting out of the car and strolling down the street, looking around him in a casual manner. Cora watched him go, before turning her attention back to the warehouse block. She didn't like the feeling she was getting from this place. It was far too quiet. Intentionally so, she was now sure. People knew to avoid it. Gabe would be seen and noticed. He'd get one chance, most likely, and if he tried to go back again, they'd stop him. For now, she was certain he was being watched.

  She glanced around her, her hand hovering near her gun. Situations like this were what it was for. Just in case things went south.

  Gabe came back, striding fast.

  "That place is protected," he said. "There are guys standing around outside and I'd say for sure, they're on guard."

  "How many?"

  "I saw four. Big, bouncer types. Armed."

  "Okay," she said.

  It wasn't going to be easy to get in. She was certain, now, that this was a gangster, whose headquarters were here. A gangster who'd picked up one of the missing women?

  Feeling urgency surge through her, Cora climbed out of the car.

  "I'm going to see if I can find another way in," she said.

  “Wait!” Gabe protested. “Are you insane? You can’t do that!”

  “I’m just going to have a look,” Cora said. “Get the car, and drive it around, and wait a block behind the building. I might need to get out fast, if I do get in.”

  Gabe looked extremely dubious. He muttered, “Bad idea.” But she wasn’t backing down.

  She was better placed than Gabe to do the stealth surveillance. On her own, she wouldn’t ring alarm bells and he would. And she wanted to get an idea of their total security. The front of this place was well protected. But how about the back? Was there a way in from the side?

  Cora's mind raced as she scanned the area for any signs of a possible entrance. She spotted a narrow alleyway next to the warehouse block, which looked like it led to the back of the building. One of the bodyguards glanced at her for a moment, and then looked away. She wasn’t his target threat.

  As she walked around the block, Cora’s senses heightened, her eyes scanning the area for any possible entry point. The place was eerily deserted and her footsteps sounded very loud. There was nobody around to hear her, not that she could see, but that didn't mean people might not be watching. There were many ways to do surveillance. She didn’t see any cameras, but they might be hidden.

  Slipping through the shadows of the alleyway, she kept close to the building's wall and moved quietly, checking around every step of the way as she passed the weathered, high wall.

  There were two doors along the wall, but both were all locked up tight. But how about the windows? How about entry points that might allow her to get in, but would be inaccessible to a full-sized man?

  The windows were high in the wall, above head height, and they, too, looked firmly closed.

  There must be something that would allow her a way in. Determined to find it, Cora headed around to the back of the building.

  One access door here, closed and barred and looking to be seldom used. Her shoulders slumped in discouragement. She had been hell bent on finding a way in, but if there was no way, she'd need to find another. She could do it, but it would take time.

  Footsteps tramped around the opposite side of the building, and Cora shrank back, her heart speeding up. Were they patrolling? Given the security with which all the doors were barred, she hadn't thought they would be.

  But no. She heard the metallic clang of a trash can lid being opened and then closed. Just someone taking out the trash or throwing something away. Coming around from the front, rather than using the back door, because everything was closed up tight.

  But she'd seen something, along that back wall, that she wanted to take a better look at.

  Cora waited until the footsteps had retreated and then she tiptoed around again, listening carefully for anyone coming that way again, taking a better look at what she'd seen in that first glance.

  It was an ancient looking, square, metal aircon vent. A newer one had been installed, higher up, with a proper grille protecting it. The old one, disused, had never been taken out. And the aircon vent was positioned midway in the wall.

  The grate looked loose, as if someone had been busy doing repairs on it and had abandoned the job. Far too small for a big man to squeeze through, Cora reckoned she could do it.

  But it would make some noise. And she had no idea what she'd find on the other side.

  It was worth a try. It was, for sure, the only way in.

  Cora headed quietly toward the grille and levered it away from the wall, taking out a key from the bunch in her pocket to help her loosen two of the screws that still held, trying to work quietly but aware that with a big metal grille that scraped against the wall, a certain amount of noise was inevitable. She needed to be fast, now. As fast as she could.

  Her heart was accelerating as she wrestled with the grille, feeling time bleeding away, but also now sure that it did lead into an unoccupied room. Otherwise, someone would have heard the noise by now and come to find out what was going on.

  The grille came loose. Breathing hard, she set it down.

  Beyond was a gap in the wall, about eighteen inches square.

  Hoping that she'd get in safely, Cora pushed her shoulders into the gap, maneuvering herself as quietly as she could. It seemed very dark beyond. The only filtered light was from the window above. Quietly, she eased and wriggled her way through.

  And then, she was in, leaning down, taking her weight on her hands as they touched dusty, rough concrete, her breath coming fast, and every nerve in her body on high alert.

  She'd made it inside.

  Now to find the owner of Poodl himself.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Cora climbed to her feet and waited another minute, listening hard, letting her eyes adapt to the dim light.

  She urgently needed to get her bearings, and hunt for the guy she guessed might be a boss man, before anyone realized she was there.

 

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