Buying the Virgin

Chapter 112: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Twenty-Eight

MICHAEL

Richard pauses, obviously thinking. “Do you think we want the police in on this?”

“We should have them available,” I say. “But if the area is suddenly flooded with police vehicles, someone’s going to start asking how they know to look there. If Charlotte still has her tracers, we don’t want them being taken away from her.”

“Fair point. I’ll have a word with Will and ask him to keep any police presence discreet for the moment.”

*****

I drive at a crazy speed, following James’ navigation from the previous path of the tracers. We pass the spot where Charlotte’s assorted signals separated, where we now know that she was taken from her car; where her phone was destroyed, and her bag thrown away. We pass by, still pursuing the more recent trail.

“This is where we lost the signal,” says James. Haswell says nothing, his face grim.

“You think we should just circle first?” I ask. “Try different areas to try to catch the signal?”

“Yes. You just drive. I’ll keep an eye on the trace... Wait! There... it’s back again….”

“Which way?”

I slam onto the gas. After only half a minute, James again. “Damn! It’s off again…”

“Perhaps taking her out of a car and into a building?”

“Seems plausible.”

“Did you see enough to get us there?”

“I think so, yes. Certainly, we can get closer. Keep driving. We’re losing the light.”

*****

CHARLOTTE

The truck rattles to a halt, and the engine stops.

Are we here?

The door opens, from the outside I notice, and my guard thumbs me out.

It is still daylight, and we have pulled up in woodland, at the end of a broken mud track, much ridged and rutted. Only tough, overland vehicles would be able to reach here. There is a long, low, block-built shed. Overhung by trees, the shed would not be very visible from the air.

made

building, so I have only a few seconds

be able to find me. All the while, I glance furtively around, looking for any detail that will help in my escape…. and

Is she here…?

in

his fingers biting into the muscle as he drags me indoors. Without word or ceremony, I am marched through a main central room, then pushed through

no furnishings barring a bucket in one corner, and

And Beth is here….

I’ve found you….

face is tear-streaked,

She looks utterly lost.

How are you

as though she will burst into tears again. Her

can’t say too much. She needs to

any help, it was me they wanted in the

stares up at me. “You? I thought they must be

to her, and she shuffles up the blankets to make room. “They’re connected to the people who ran Blessingmoors. It’s looking as though they want to make sure I

resists weeping. “It’s awful here. There’s things living in the blankets.

been imprisoned by traffickers, and she’s worrying about

Convenient though….

control. I always

winding it up and pinning it

*****

at us, where Beth and I

then help Beth up as she

she ill? Or just scared

into the

from the past, a face that once looked over

be a handsome man were it not for the

slowly around me, he examines me from all angles, arms

“You know me?”

“Yes. You’re Lawrence Klempner.”

but not so changed that I do not remember him. He stares down at me, pursing his lips. His voice is chill, passionless, but there is

Of me?

that

recognised you from being a teenager you know. You’re a lot better looking than you were then. Useful that.” he says. “But I do see your mother in you. You

My stomach churns.

knew my

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