Page 19 of Two Hearts' Accidental Heroes

Once she’d been alone and had felt the taste of freedom for the first time in six long years, Shanna had searched everywhere for cameras. As far as she could tell, there was no surveillance, even outdoors. It was if he was trying to distance himself from every bad deed he’d ever done.

And then a thought had come to her—maybe he suspected that someone could be on to him. Wes knew that she would never risk running for the sake of what they were holding over her head. He’d probably been concerned about moving her so close to her hometown, but the authorities more than likely didn’t know about this place, because of what Wes had told her.

Shanna had lived here, relatively content. Real happiness was something she’d never dared dream about.

But after she’d caught a glimpse of her mother one day, definitely a shadow of the woman she’d once been, Shanna had realized that even if she couldn’t do anything about her own situation, because it would endanger the lives of those she loved, she owed it to the families of other victims to try to do what she could to lead them on a path to find them, whether those victims were alive…or not.

After putting away all the groceries she’d laid on the table, Shanna decided to get started on her new series of paintings. Although she wasn’t allowed a computer with internet access, or even cable TV, she had a radio she listened to all the time. She was able to get a couple of channels on the small television that was here, and Wes had provided her with a DVD player and some second-hand movies he’d been picking up for her. It had been the same where she’d been held captive before, and he’d transferred many familiar items over here before he’d told her she was being moved.

Every minute for two straight weeks, she’d been scared to death that he was intending to get rid of her.

One thing Wes had never minded providing for her were books—especially those he knew that she intended to use for reference for her paintings. When he’d realized how good she was, he’d brought her a huge selection of picture books, featuring painting techniques, which had included a very detailed account of how to paint not only landscapes and still-lifes, but detailed parts of the human body as well.

He’d been dragging her around with him for the last five years. When she’d assisted him with cleaning several unconventional storage areas located in many different locations throughout the county, Shanna had finally realized what all the storage spaces had been used for some time in the past, a few more recent than others.

Wes had said it was a good idea when she’d started bringing along cleaning products for use at the storage locations. Many of them had actual cooking facilities with refrigerators and counter space.

Little did he know that one of the containers of antibacterial wet wipes was empty.

Pouring over those art books had made her exceptionally skilled at identifying body parts, and when she’d seen the thin bones caught up in the corner of one of the underground storage areas Wes had been ready to begin power washing, Shanna had been horrified to recognize that they belonged to a human hand.

A very small human hand.

She’d gently picked up the bones, wrapping them in a tissue and hiding them in her sweatshirt pocket. After that, anytime that she’d accompanied Wes to other sites, she’d brought cleaning supplies and a broom, coming up with constructive ways to hide anything suspicious in an area of the room where Wes wouldn’t notice her quickly scooping everything into the empty wet wipe container before he began power washing.

Now it was a regular routine, and Wes dropped her off many times on her own while he went off for a while and let her work while he got them something to eat.

So far, she’d only gone along with him to the storage areas located around the area. But Shanna knew that Wes sometimes traveled for days and worked out of state occasionally. Every now and then, she wasn’t sure if he realized how much he was revealing to her about the trafficking locations. He didn’t drink as much during the day. Either he trusted her more, or his superiors didn’t know that she was accompanying him on his rounds.

Or maybe there was just no one else besides her that he trusted.

She’d thought long and hard on how to handle this, and each time she returned to the cabin from one of their rounds the first thing she did was remove what she’d found that day and bag it, labeling the location and town. She’d clean and bleach the container afterwards, letting it dry so that she could use it again for the next time out.

The tricky part was preparing the materials so that she could use them in her oils. Oil paint took a long time to dry. But it was necessary with the layering she did to preserve the integrity of the bone and hair and other materials which could be used by authorities to identify the victims’ DNA.

Wes told her stories of how long that he and his ancestors had been using each of the locations for their operations. Who knew how old some of the materials she was discovering were? But in the scheme of things, power washing hadn’t been around for very long.

Eventually, when the first series of oil paintings was complete, she would have to find a way of revealing the secrets of her paintings to someone she could trust. Because what she was doing had the possibility of bringing closure to the families of those who’d been trafficked without putting her own family in danger. She was careful not to sign the paintings.

Shanna didn’t think she could live with herself any longer if she didn’t at least try and do something.

Chapter Eight

Walter Reed National Military Medical Center

Bethesda, Maryland

“You look good, Lieutenant,” a familiar voice said gruffly. “Definitely not like someone who’s just recovered from multiple gunshot wounds.”

Lieutenant Rick O’Neill’s eyes went wide as he turned to the door of his room. “Jake Loughlin? What are you doing here, sir?”

“What if I told you that I was in town, so I just stopped by for a visit?” Jake asked, stepping inside the room.

Rick snorted. “I’d say that I know you better than that. You almost missed me. They’re releasing me sometime soon.”

“I know. I’ve been checking up on your progress, and I volunteered to be your driver when I heard you were getting out,” Jake admitted.

At that moment, a nurse strolled into the room behind a wheelchair.

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