Meg was frustrated. She barely remembered being taken. She didn't remember the journey to Heather's house at all, only waking up there in a bright room and hearing Heather's voice. The conversation she did recall vividly on awakening and how Heather had claimed to announce to the world what she'd done by the colors of the gargoyles and what she'd said about them being too stupid to figure it out.

  "Unfortunately, she's right." Scott spoke up, keeping Nikki close by him. "I, for one, just thought it was the gardener having fun with painting."

  Mason nodded. "I have to admit, so did I. Until Matt shoved the photograph of prom night in front of my face after Meg disappeared this morning and demanded I look at the colors."

  Lowry stopped scribbling in his notebook briefly and turned to Meg. "She has admitted taking each of you. She was like a mad-woman as she described it. You'll have to excuse me, Mrs. Hart, but this is what she said." He turned back a few pages and began reading. "Grant brought her in a little before ten-thirty, naked, and put her on the stretcher. He covered her with the sheet he'd brought her in, and I had to yank it off, to prepare her." He paused, flipping over a page, and continued. "I told him to start, and I could hear him beating her and her screams and cries while I waited outside the door. It was ecstasy."

  Meg stared at him. "She said the pictures were so much better if she listened rather than watched. She told him to hurt me, and then she left the room."

  Matt put out a hand. "Wait," he said, staring at Lowry. "I don't understand. When I examined her, there wasn't a mark on her, other than the needle marks from where he drugged her. And the blood seemed to be made from a mixture of red food coloring and other things I didn't recognize."

  "Grant didn't hurt me. I told you. but I don't think anyone was listening to me. He rolled up a wet towel and put it on the foot of the stretcher and took off his belt. I thought he was going to beat me, but he motioned to me to scream. Like this." She moved her hand in front of her mouth as Grant had instructed her earlier that day, showing them. "He hit the towel and then waited for me to scream. That's what she heard. But I kept falling asleep, and he kept waking me up to scream. He didn't want to do it. I could tell."

  "And then what happened?" Lowry paused.

  "Then we heard the intercom go off. Someone—a woman's voice—said the police were there. He covered me with a sheet just as Heather put her head back inside and told him it was time to give me more drugs and take me through the tunnel. And start up the retort." She shuddered visibly, and Matt held her tighter.

  "And then?"

  Meg stared at him. "I don't…" she paused. "I don't know. He gave me more of something in a syringe and then carried me… somewhere. The lights were dim. I remember bricks overhead and a room. And steps…" Her eyes darted unconsciously back and forth, trying to remember. "And then I heard the cremator start, and—"

  Meg had no idea where the tears came from, but they erupted suddenly, in a raging flood. Great sobs racked her shoulders. Matt gathered her to him and put up a hand.

  "Enough." He lifted her, carrying her toward the dining room to isolate her from the others, sitting down with her.

  "Princess, do you want to go back upstairs?" he asked gently.

  "No," she whispered between hiccups. "There's something. I remember something, but I don't know what it is. I only know it's important."

  He pressed her to his shoulder, holding a hand to her head. "It'll come, sweetheart. Don't worry."

  Meg couldn't help but worry. When she was finally released from Lowry's questioning, she threw her arms around Matt and buried her head into his neck.

  "I want to go upstairs," she whispered.

  "I'll take you."

  Stacy's head appeared around the corner. "Could I fix you both something to eat? You both must be starving."

  Matt nodded. "Thank you, Stacy. We could use a little something."

  She rose, moving toward the kitchen. "It's the least I can do. I feel so awful. I'll send Mason up with it."

  Matt brought Meg upstairs and put her to bed, but she seemed fretful and couldn't eat. When he was finally able to get her to sleep, she tossed and turned. He cocooned himself around her to try to comfort her, until at last, she grew quiet and fell into a deep sleep.

  At two in the morning, she awakened, screaming.

  "Princess, I'm here. What is it?" He turned toward the lamp and flipped it on. Her eyes were wide and blazing with fear. Reaching for her glasses, he put them on her.

  Meg clung to him, looking around the room. It was a long time before she realized where she was. "I was dreaming," she sobbed. "I was back there again. He was carrying me through the tunnel and—"

  "Shh, princess, it was a dream, that's all. I've got you."

  "No, no, Matt. You don't understand. I know where they are!"

  He stared at her a moment. "Who?"

  "The girls in the smashing—" As if she realized what she was saying, she turned to face him, her eyes pleading. "We have to go there. Now."

  Matt looked at his watch. "Princess, it's two in the morning."

  "I don't care. If we don't go, someone may move them."

  "Move what?"

  She stared up, her eyes pleading.

  "The lions."

  Chapter 18

  The puzzle pieces…

  The procession of FBI, police, and Patrol came down Country Club Lane silently. Meg and Matt rode in the back seat of Mason's patrol car. The closer they came, the more violently she trembled, and the tighter he held her.

  The group of uniformed and non-uniformed officers moved to the front gate and over it and pounded on the front door of Pierce Hick's home. It was several minutes before lights began to come on in the house.

  The front porch light was switched on, and a groggy Pierce Hicks opened it.

  "What happened? Is my wife all right?"

  Lowry spoke first. "To our knowledge, she is, sir. Please open the gates. And we need to search your tunnel."

  Pierce reached for a button, watching as the gates slowly opened. He turned back to Lowry, squinting. "You said the tunnel? Why?"

  "You don't deny its existence, then."

  He shook his head. "No, of course not. But no one ever goes down there anymore. My brother in law used it to go back and forth between the funeral home and the house when he lived here…" his voice trailed off, and he cocked his head to one side. "Follow me. I'll show you."

  He led the way toward the back of the house through a series of hallways that resembled a labyrinth and opened a door. When he flipped on a switch, the room blazed with light.

  "It's through here," he said, moving toward the back wall. A lever resembling something out of a medieval torture chamber stuck out from the wall, and he gave it a twist. The wall slid inward, like a pocket door.

  A long, brick tunnel was visible, extending deep under the earth. Pierce stared at it.

  "It's lit," he murmured under his breath, staring at the other end.

  Matt and Meg exchanged glances. Pierce sounded truly surprised.

  As he turned back, he glanced toward Lowry. "Come with me."

  "No, sir. We'll lead the way."

  "It comes out several hundred feet from here, into the basement of the funeral home."

  Matt tucked Meg under his arm more closely. "It's all right, sweetheart," he whispered.

  Lowry turned back to face them. "Is this what you remember, Mrs. Hart?"

  Meg's voice was extremely quiet. "Yes. I was very sleepy, but I think so."

  He nodded and turned back.

  The heels of the men could be heard as they moved. No one spoke, and the memory of what had happened less than twenty-four hours ago shook Meg to the core.

  The end of it was in sight now. The dimly lit room at the end caused them to slow, and Lowry stepped out into it, ducking his head.

  They didn't need flashlights now. The room was just as Meg had dreamed its memory. On one side, the old brick wall met them. On the other was an array of stone lions in different colors. She stood there, staring at them.

  Suddenly, she surprised her husband by leaving his side to move closer to them.

  "They really were here." Her whisper echoed off the stone walls. Moving closer to them, she put a hand on each one. "Yellow, for Chelsea." Slowly, she moved to the next. "Hot pink… for Hannah."

  The men watched, mesmerized, as she moved from one to the next. "Black, for Amber, and gold, for Mellie." Tears were streaming down her face now. "Aqua blue, for Andrea." She shook her head. "All this time, I suspected her—"

  She stopped, staring at the next one, in royal blue. "This was to be mine." Her mouth moved without sound, but the others clearly understood.

  There was one more. "Peach," she whispered. "It was to have been Nikki's." She straightened and, without warning, flew into Matt's arms. He lifted her off her feet, and she put her arms about his neck, holding on tightly.

  Lowry moved into the place where she'd stood, running his hand over the stone and along the back. The sound of a spring was heard, and a compartment slid open. He nodded toward Matt, who turned Meg quietly into his chest.

  "I think you should take her out of here," Lowry said softly.

  "No," Meg responded firmly. "They were my friends. If these are their tombs, I want to know."

  Lowry glanced toward Matt, who nodded. The older officer moved toward the second lion, the one in hot pink, and tripped the spring. It opened. He removed the tactical flashlight from his pocket and looked inside.

  Glancing toward Matt without a word, he moved to the next. And the next. Finally, he rose to his feet. "Take these to the station," he said quietly. "Keep them upright. Dr. Hart, take your wife home. We have all the evidence we need."

  Matt didn't allow Meg to stay and watch. He brought her back through the tunnel with several men surrounding them and left the house.

  But as Mason returned to his car, she put up a hand. "Wait. Please."

  He turned to face her. She watched quietly as one by one, the lions were put into the backs of the vehicles and driven away. When the last one was loaded, she nodded.

  "We can go now," was all she said before leaning back against Matt's chest.

  It was the next morning, early, when Lowry pounded on the door of Mason and Stacy's old Georgian-style home. Mason answered the door.

  "I need to see Mr. and Mrs. Hart," he demanded.

  Meg, tucked under Matt's arm, turned to face him. "We're right here. What do you need?"

  "It's show and tell," he said, grinning. "And I'm tired as hell, so I'll make it fast. I have something to show you." He moved immediately to the sofa and made himself at home. "When we found the lions this morning and I saw the envelopes inside, I knew you would automatically assume that they contained the ashes of the women who had disappeared, but I couldn't say anything at the time. Now, I can tell you. They didn't."

  Meg became still, giving him her full attention. "What do you mean?"

  His face broke into a huge grin. "I mean," he said, "I couldn't open them right there because it would have meant tampering with evidence. But after we got them to the forensics lab, they were able to. What we found led us to the greatest human trafficking ring bust we've had in decades. Mrs. Hicks was not only brazen enough to announce her deed to the world with the color of the lions, she was audacious enough to announce the names, dates, and locations of the ring she'd sold to. I suppose she didn't think anyone would go looking there."

  Meg stared. "I-I still don't understand."

  "Heather Hicks has been associated with it for over six years now. We knew that, but we couldn't prove her connection. Normally, she would just manage to locate the girls and have them kidnapped. If she was caught, she didn't intend to go down without fighting. Apparently, she put that information in the lions to give herself some leverage and hopefully some immunity, in case she ended up being prosecuted. When it came to the seven of you—the smashing seven, she decided to kill you, instead. She had a ritual lined out in her head she used for each of you."

  Meg stared, unsure which question to ask next, and he laughed.

  "Let me explain. Hicks sent Grant—and that's not his real name, by the way—out to grab you. But as was typical of her style, she didn't want to do the dirty work. She trusted Grant to carry out her wishes, since he'd worked for her so long. She even trusted him enough to have him take you through the tunnel and cremate you."

  Meg's eyes, wide, remained on him, and he continued. "What she didn't know was he was one of us. He kept each of the ladies sedated until he could get them to safety, and then he sent them in a hearse from the funeral home in the care of another agent who was planted there. Hicks never suspected their transport."

  Meg stared in disbelief and leaned forward, her face full of anger. "Why didn't you tell us at the funeral home he worked for you? You were there. Why let us go through hell? And why didn't Grant—or whatever his name was—speak, after they took Heather away?"

  Lowry looked taken aback. "We still didn't have the connection to the ring proven at that time. We couldn't expose Grant until we had it."

  Mason shot up out of his chair. "For God's sake, Lowry. The only ones in the room were the PD, the Highway Patrol, and Matt and Meg. It wouldn't have hurt to let us in on it. What the hell's wrong with you? It's difficult enough to do my job with all the information. It's nigh onto impossible without it."

  Lowry nodded sheepishly. "Sorry. I just didn't have permission then." He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. "Braden. Come and join us," he said into it. Rising to his feet, he moved toward the door and opened it.

  The giant man ducked his head and stepped inside, glancing around the room. His voice was extremely deep, and when his eyes lit on Meg, he smiled. "Hello, Meg."

  Meg stared at him as she heard him speak normally for the first time. The man who had seemed so ominous and threatening was nearly was knocked off his feet as she launched across the room and threw her arms around him.

  "Hey, hey, careful. I'm riddled with stitches," he said, holding his arms out of her reach.

  "I don't care what your name is. You were a good guy all the time—I knew it!" Then she stood back, tilting her head. "So, if my friends weren't inside the lions, where were they?" she demanded.

  Grant laughed. "They're in hiding. You'll see them soon enough." His expression became serious suddenly. "All except Chelsea Flynn. I'm so sorry. That was Heather's doing. I wasn't there that day. Had I been there, she'd still be alive."

  Meg's head was spinning. "But the rest of them—they're all right?"

  Lowry moved to the chair to allow Grant to sit on the sofa. "They are."

  Meg held up her hands and gave a whoop of joy, and Matt smiled down at her as Lowry continued.

  "I'll make it short. When we started this case, we were trying to figure out a way to integrate the ring. Hicks was the only solid piece of evidence we had, and we couldn't prove any connections with anyone. She and her husband bought the house next to the funeral home and put an ad in the paper for a gardener. We were looking for someone to plant there, when, one day, Grant told us a story about how he was referred to as a giant ewok in school. And then he leaned back and made his sound." He paused, and Grant gave the deep guttural grunt that Meg had heard the day before.

  Lowry nodded. "We knew then, we had our guy. He took on a new identity and applied—and got the job. And Hicks learned to trust him. Besides, she didn't know he could speak, so she thought she was safe. He managed to convey to her his loyalty over the years he worked for her. But either she didn't trust him enough to help with the abductions for the young women who were sold to the ring, or she didn't need him to help with them until now."

  "Six long years," Grant interrupted. "I need a raise. Have I told you how tedious it was working for her?"

  Lowry gave him a sidewise glance. "Several thousand times. And don't worry, you're about to get one. A big one."

  Matt leveled a gaze at Grant. "When I took Meg to the hospital, there was a red residue across her. I couldn't tell it from blood until we cleaned her up and I realized there were no marks on her. What was it?"

  Grant stared back at him. "There's an old recipe used in theatres. It's changed a lot over the years, but this one was made up of photo-flo, used by photographers—red food coloring and corn syrup and a couple of other things. Pretty convincing, huh?"

  Matt didn't have a chance to answer. Meg was waving her hands. "So, if your name isn't Grant, what is it?" she demanded. "And when can I see my friends?"

  Grant eyed her suspiciously. "Promise you won't laugh at me. And you won't tell anyone. I do mean, anyone."

  Meg tilted her head. "I promise."

  He rolled his eyes and looked toward Lowry then back at her. "Alex. Commonly known as smart alec as a kid by those who didn't mind getting their heads busted."

  Meg stared at him. "I don't believe you."

  He lowered his head. "You're too smart for your own good. All right. It's Michael Alex Last name is Braden. I go by Alex. Satisfied?"

  "That's better. What's wrong with that?"

  He opened his mouth and closed it again. "As long as you don't call me smart ass, nothing's wrong with it."

  "I promise never to do that. And you didn't answer me. When do I get to see my friends?"

  Lowry shook his head. "Soon. Very soon. Until then, stay here and be patient. Your friends are safe as we speak. Here's the thing. Hicks knew where you were. She had you kidnapped the first time. She's in solitary, but who knows? Things get in and out. What I'm saying is you may have to be moved to a safe house. And Nicole and Stacy, it may be necessary to move you, too. We don't have enough manpower to put a bodyguard in the house here." He turned to Mason. "Sorry, Wallace. I know I caused you extra work."

  "Yes. You did. I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate it if the HP kept information from you."

  Lowry blinked. "No. We wouldn't. Point taken."

  "What will happen to Pierce Hicks?" Matt asked curiously.

 

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