Page 29 of Lake's Legacy

“Did you find them?”

“Not yet. We found where they took the girls, though. Toff and I are about to go inside. The fuckers just left on bikes; the three of them are headed toward 90. You might pass them. I might have winged one.”

“We’ll be on the lookout for them.”

I tell him about the gas station and convenience store where Olivia and I stopped. If I hit one, they may stop there to patch upthe wound before continuing if their goal is New Orleans. “Did Pirate fill you in on their club logo?”

“White supremacists,” Hez spits. “Fucking hate those neo-Nazi assholes. It sounds like the same guys at Francois’ restaurant. What the fuck is the connection between the restaurant and your people?”

“No fucking clue,” I say, ending the call as Toff joins me.

“Did they have the girls?”

I shake my head. “No. Each biker was solo. You go through the back as planned. I’ll go through the front. The place may not be empty, so keep your head down.”

Entering through the front, I find myself in a small hallway. There’s an open door to my left and another to my right. Standing still, I let my senses explore the space. I can hear Toff moving at the back but no other sounds. A quick look to the right reveals what could either be a bedroom or a dining room. Considering there is a mattress on the floor next to a table, I concede it could be both. There is a second door at the back of the room. Before heading for it, I clear the room on the left. It’s empty except for two mattresses and trash. Broken glass in the corner tells me the assholes squatting here would toss their empty beer bottles against the wall. Pigs.

There is a door off this room, too, but a glance reveals it’s a bathroom. It was just as disgusting as I expected. The room smells as if no one bothered to hit the toilet.

I move back into the other room and go through the door into the kitchen, where I find Toff.

“Anything?” I ask.

“Just a fuck ton of garbage. Although, I found this.” He hands me a pamphlet filled with racist garbage and touting the need to keep American bloodlines pure. There are ample images of swastikas alongside the confederate flag. Several paragraphs on how the filth from other nations has tainted American soil. Onthe back is a picture of a bald eagle in attack mode. Clasped in its talons are the confederate flag and, in the other, the flag of Nazi Germany. Under the image is the phrase, ‘Keepers of the Third Reich, ’ with an address in Nevada. I fold the brochure and stick it in my kutte.

“They aren’t here,” Toff says, slamming his fist into the wall.

The cabin has only a handful of rooms. We’ve explored each one. If the girls aren’t here, then where the fuck could they be? “Let’s look again. We must have missed something. Is there a cellar or an attic?”

“There should be a cellar,” Toff says. We find it behind the refrigerator. The assholes likely moved the appliance to the block off the entrance. Maybe they’re hoping we’d leave so they can return and grab the girls. Feeling like we’re sitting ducks, I urge Toff to hurry.

“I can’t budge the door,” Toff grunts.

“Let me try,” I offer as we switch places. Heaving myself against the door, I can only shift it two inches. It’s enough for Toff to shine the flashlight from his phone.

“Do you see anything?” I ask him.

“It’s the cellar. I can’t tell what’s blocking the door.”

“Olivia! Annette!” I call out. “Are you down there?”

We get silence in return.

“Let’s try opening the door again,” I suggest. We get in position and shove. The door moves another two inches—just enough for Toff to push his head through.

“Fucking logs. Someone has stacked logs against the door. But I can see an opening on the far wall. We might get in through there. Let’s go.”

We hustle outside and search the back of the house until we find an opening. I drop to the ground and peer inside the dark hole. Logs litter the cellar floor, and I can see a pile of logs atthe top of the stairs. Grinning at their cleverness, I back out. However, my grin slips when I spot the small puddle of blood.

“I found their tracks,” Toff calls out. “They’re headed into the bayou.”

“We need to go after them. One of them is bleeding.”

“We should be able to track them, then,” Toff says, looking at me. I know what he’s thinking. If we can track them, so can the predators. The girls may not be running from their kidnappers now, but they aren’t safe. Not yet.

“We need flashlights.”

“I have a couple in the SUV. I’ll be right back.” Toff returns a few minutes later with a pair of Maglites. He hands me one as he switches on the other. We’re able to track them easily. We have grown up learning to track animals from an early age. Tracking requires patience, something I’ve never had difficulty summoning until now. I barely stop running through the overgrowth and calling out for Olivia. Knowing she’s out there and possibly hurt guts me.

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