Savage Disclosure Read online

  Savage Disclosure

  The Nickie Savage Series

  Book Three

  by

  R.T. Wolfe

  Bestselling Author

  Published by ePublishing Works!

  www.epublishingworks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-61417-798-2

  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Copyright © 2015 by R.T. Wolfe. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover photography by S.J. Jones Photography

  Cover and eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Meet the Author

  Dedication

  I would like to thank Jess and Jamie Larsen, CEO and co-founders of Child Rescue, for their help in creating this series but mostly for the tireless and dangerous work they do to save trafficking victims in the US and abroad.

  Chapter 1

  Duncan woke before sunrise to an empty bed. Again. The faint lavender smell of his Nickie lingered, tempting him to remain right where he was. He stretched his arm over the empty space. Cold sheets. In the dim light, he thumbed the titanium wedding band that reminded him she was his even in her absence.

  As he sat up, he spotted her, fully dressed with her nose buried in the oversized chart paper that rested on the easel reserved for her research. Her back faced him, but he could see she'd already tucked her .45 in her holster.

  He stood, glancing to the grandfather clock barely lit from the glow of the floor lamp she preferred. Four thirty.

  "I set the coffeemaker," she said without turning from her work. She didn't drink coffee.

  He pulled on some sweats and walked to her instead of the coffeemaker. "You can't continue to keep these hours." He set his lips on the top of her head, smelling the lavender, smart and sophisticated. Her arm wandered behind and found his hand. As she drew a line connecting symbols to locations, her warm fingers brought his hand to her lips.

  "What are these?" he asked. He didn't recognize the symbols she'd drawn.

  "You might not want to know."

  It took a lot for his detective to say this. "I fear I do."

  "The double-heart thing means a pedophile who wants girls. The triangles mean the dude prefers boys. Four hearts that create butterfly wings mean either."

  Once again, she was right. He might not have wanted to know. Reflexively, he winced and turned his head from the paper as if that might disengage his photographic memory. He distracted himself by meandering to the counter next to the wet bar and pressing the single button that started his morning coffee.

  "The pictures you've tracked down of Zheng are priceless."

  Zheng. His fingers clenched into fists at the sound of his name. Jun Zheng. The man who abducted Nickie from her home when she was a young teen. The one who forced her into eighteen months of prostitution before she escaped to freedom. To heal. To grow. To become the detective she was today.

  She gestured to the map of lines and information on her chart paper as if she were providing a routine lecture regarding police procedure. "I'm tracking down the records of the men with him in the photographs. He may be in county waiting trial, but his crime ring is too big to dismantle in his absence. Some of the men in the pictures are serving time after they were caught with boys. If there truly are ten to twelve groups of captive children in Fu Haizi—"

  "—Fu Haizi?"

  "Yeah, I gave this mess a name. It means captive children. I'm taking it down, Duncan. All of it. Each day that passes, more children are taken."

  He watched as she tilted her head, then wrote the words at the top of the paper. 'Fu Haizi.'

  "I think he might have them divided by customer preference," she added as if she hadn't stopped. "All of the girls in my group were middle-to-upper-class females of nearly the same age. No one under ten. And if they survived to their upper teens, they were disposed of."

  Odd way to say murdered. This time an involuntary shiver traveled from his hands and arms straight into his heart. Pulling up a stool, he sat next to her and noticed the beads of sweat that lined her forehead and upper lip. So much for routine.

  "I'm expanding my search to include reports of missing boys. He might have groups of homeless children or runaways, too. Some johns prefer upper-class adults and some drive the streets looking for homeless prostitutes. Why not the same for the pedophiles?"

  Ever since she learned her group of captive girls was only one of many, it was as if a portion of her life had been put on hold. She continued to function at her job and had agreed to a honeymoon, although shortened to five days. However, a portion of her focus consistently remained with rescuing each and every child as well as convicting the perpetrators.

  He took the hand that held her black marker.

  Steel-gray eyes turned to their joined hands, then lifted to meet his.

  "I'm getting closer, Duncan. I can feel it."

  "You'll be able to think more clearly if you rest." He used his free hand to tuck a stray piece of hair away from her beautiful face.

  A small smile crept over her lips. "I'm too wired to sleep." Placing the palm of his hand against her warm cheek, she inhaled. "I love you."

  She did. It was both cherished and reciprocated.

  * * *

  Nickie headed to the station in the unmarked sedan the Northridge Police Department had issued her. Medium-sized, efficient. Great resale. She'd rather have a tooth pulled. Hoping no one would recognize her, she slid into a far spot at her favorite convenience store. She had just enough time to grab a giant Diet Coke and razz Slippery Jimbo before she had to be to work.

  Next to her car, one of the last piles of snow left from winter lingered, dark gray and filled with rocks refusing to move on to a better place. She glanced at the waist-length leather jacket crumpled in the seat next to her, shrugged and left it.

  The bell on the door rang as she entered. Ji
mbo stood behind the cash register and turned at the sound. Lifting his chin, he addressed her. "Mornin', Detective Dude."

  "Slippery Jimbo," she answered as she headed for the fountain drinks. "How goes it?"

  "You can't call me that here," he said, although his voice was loud enough that it carried across the length of the store. "I'm the manager of an upstanding business now."

  Nickie wouldn't mention that managing a smelly convenience store complete with circles of old gum stuck to the floor might not be classified as upstanding.

  Things had changed between her and Jimbo. He may have started as a thief who dabbled in dealing drugs. And he may have trashed her conviction record with the number of times he slipped by on technicalities. The brutal beating he took because of her trumped it all.

  She grabbed the largest cup they had and filled it exactly three-quarters full with ice. The rest with the morning caffeine that would keep her from using unnecessary police brutality on anyone on the way to the station. Or, more importantly, once she got there.

  Before paying, she took a deep drink and let the burn of carbonation mix with the chemical sweetener. She pressed the lid in place and paused to take a look at the thin band of yellow gold that rested next to her single-karat engagement ring. Air sucked slowly into her lungs and her eyes closed without her telling them to. Damn it if it didn't make her smile. At the risk of someone noticing, she brushed her thumb across the side of her nose and cussed.

  When she stepped up to check out, Jimbo was explaining to a new guy something about how to juggle all the employee breaks. All four of them she wondered sarcastically.

  "How's the arm?" Nickie asked and nodded toward the dingy cast that traveled from his knuckles to over his elbow. The only signature on it was that of 'his woman.' Krystal was written in black magic marker with several curly cues trailing from the K and the L. Barf.

  "Cast comes off next week, Detective Dude. I can't wait. It itches like a mother fuck."

  "Now, is that any way for the manager of an upstanding business to speak to his customers?" She threw him a five-dollar bill. "Keep the change, Jimbo. Stay out of trouble."

  Her cell buzzed as she pushed open the glass door. Caller ID said it was her captain's station number. "Savage," she said as she took in the upstate New York morning air.

  "It's me, Nick. We've got a disturbance."

  Although she would never cross the line, there were certain benefits now that the captain's stepdaughter was Nickie's sister-in-law. Small town. One of the benefits was to call her captain out when he was dumping on her. "Sounds like a beat cop's job. Why me?"

  Silence.

  "It's... sensitive," he said finally.

  Which meant it involved either a missing person or a possible sexual abuse victim.

  "Come right to my office when you get here. I'll get you the address and details."

  It couldn't be too bad if he was going to tell her at the office instead of sending her directly to the so-called disturbance. She pulled out of the store parking lot, imagining the captain's desk lined with the yellow sticky notes he used as his method of organization. Old dog. New tricks.

  * * *

  Carrying her nearly empty Styrofoam cup, Nickie marched into her office. She hoped she had time to harass Zheng before she went out. Having him so close was both torture and bliss. She'd barely flipped on her light and set down her soda when a knock rapped on her doorjamb.

  Captain Dave Nolan stood towering at six-foot-four. "Come right to my office," he reminded her. Sheesh. She followed without even turning on her computer. He started talking before he reached his office. "The Stoner home. They've been calling every ten minutes for an hour. A female Heritage College student is picketing in front of it."

  "Thee Stoner home?" Nickie asked.

  "Dr. Stoner is a surgeon at the hospital. His wife doesn't work, but is on the school board and a member of city council. The missus says she's filing an order of protection as soon as we get the girl off her sidewalk."

  Dave wouldn't send out one of his detectives for this unless there was more to it. There had to be. "The sidewalk is public property. And what kind of a last name is 'Stoner?'"

  "I don't suspect they chose their last name."

  Nickie had chosen hers the day she turned eighteen. And even chose to keep it after marriage. With Duncan's blessing. "Is this a repeat offense?"

  His phone rang. "Since that's probably Mrs. Stoner again, maybe you could have a seat and let me do the talking."

  He was right. She was wired and needed to bring it down a notch. Dave answered, then jerked the phone from his ear.

  "I'll have your mother fucking badge."

  Dave glanced over at Nickie. She lifted her brows at the noise.

  "Do you realize this is the sixth fucking time I've called, and we still have no fucking emergency vehicle here?"

  "There's no emergency," he mouthed to Nickie, but then answered Mrs. Stoner. "I have an officer on the way as we speak, ma'am."

  Nickie put up three fingers and whispered, "Three fucks?"

  "Well, it's about fucking time," were the words that came from the phone.

  Nickie smiled and flipped up a fourth finger.

  "What if the neighbors see this whore?"

  Whore? The hair on the back of Nickie's neck prickled. A whore who pickets? Nickie's instincts woke. And it wasn't an instinct to protect thee Mrs. Stoner. Details from Dave weren't necessary at this point. If he needed her, he could call her cell.

  As he placated the woman, Nickie dug the heels of her boots in the carpet and marched around his desk. She ran her eyes over the line of sticky notes and grabbed the one that had the name 'Stoner' along the top of it. Waving it over her shoulder, she strutted out of his office. She read the words as she headed to grab her Diet Coke on the way out.

  Ah.

  On the yellow paper, Dave had scribbled the words 'no consent' and 'no means no' below the words 'Dr. Eric, Sr. & Gertrude Stoner.' With a name like Gertrude, Nickie might fling the f-bomb around, too.

  She almost bumped into him. Tall, dark as coal and wide as a barn. And dressed in jeans? Here in her office? Alone. It was all highly unorthodox. "Special Agent Hurst." She addressed him formally and knew the look on her face must have been a mixture of terrified and paranoid since that was exactly how she felt. He was undoubtedly here to pick up Jun Zheng who was still in county. Nickie's Jun Zheng. Hers. Not the FBI's. She'd waited seventeen years to take him in. Seventeen years of nightmares about the night he'd abducted her and forced her into sex trafficking for a year and a half. Jun Zheng who still had information about Fu Haizi. Information that could be crucial in rescuing each and every group of captive children.

  He sat in jail on the adjoining premises. Handy for the times she wanted to question him. Or just sit outside his cell and see how he liked to be the one in the cage. His local trial for kidnapping, trespassing and attempted murder would take some time yet. She, her partner and the ADA were still working on securing the evidence to tie him to the explosions at the hospital weeks prior.

  She also knew it was only a matter of time before the feds swept in and took him for the string of kidnappings and murders he'd committed across state lines. She'd known she was on borrowed time with Zheng but still she wasn't ready to give up the access she'd come to rely on.

  "You're alone." It came out more of a question than statement.

  "How's it goin', Detective? I was in the neighborhood."

  She walked carefully around her desk. Hurst stared at her messy guest chairs, then picked up files from one and placed them on top of the other. He sat and swung an ankle on his knee.

  Slowly, she sank in her chair, all but forgetting about the sticky note she held and the disturbance she was requisitioned to take care of. Why was he alone? In jeans? "In the neighborhood?" she asked.

  He was slouching. FBI Special Agent Hurst was in her office without notice and unannounced. And alone. And slouching. Yes, highly unorthodox.
br />   "I'm on vacation. Camping with the wife."

  He camps?

  "You have Jun Zheng," he said while checking out the backs of his fingers.

  Here we go. "You wouldn't know about him if not for me." It came out overly defensive, but she couldn't help it. She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking.

  He held his up like he was ready to stop her from a long tirade. "Which is why we haven't been up to get him." Leaning forward, he dropped his foot and placed his forearms on his thighs before adding, "Yet."

  She kept her eyes on his, but she turned her head. His were black and matched the color of his short hair. And unfortunately, they were unreadable. So, they haven't come to get Zheng yet because they understand she needs and deserves to have him longer? Unorthodox doesn't even cut it. "Speaking of 'we,' where is your partner, Hurst?"

  Swinging his ankle back on his leg, he sniffed and slung an arm over the back of his chair. This was a very different Special Agent Hurst than she remembered. Agents were all eerily similar. Stiff, bland, secretive. Hurst included. But this? She treaded lightly.

  "I don't take Goodrich camping. I'm here on a courtesy call. To tell you Zheng might need to stay here a few more weeks. Maybe months." He held up his hand again, this time in surrender. "Not that I would know much about that." Then of all things, he winked at her. This was between her and him?

  A few weeks? Months? How was that possible? Hurst was stalling for her? The sticky note crunched in her fingers. Zheng. In her grasp for months? A cautious smile spread across her face.

  "As I said before, Detective, this whole thing ain't right. The Special Agents before me sold out. They betrayed you to Zheng. They are two in a long list of law enforcement and politicians who have done the same. So, I pulled some strings." His eyes turned consolatory. "This ain't right, and I hope at least some of it turns around for you."