Fit To Be Tied (Marshals Book 2) by Mary Calmes

Author:Mary Calmes [Calmes, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Calmes Books, LLC.
Published: 2020-12-22T05:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Her name was Sofia Guzman, and her little brother, Oscar, lost his mind when I carried her out of the building. He let out a shriek that startled everyone, crying in that way little kids did where they heaved out sobs. I sat with them in the back of the ambulance, my arm around Sofia, and Oscar holding my hand while the medics examined her on-site.

The EMT was a very pretty woman—Collins Bryson, long bouncy ponytail, enormous robin’s-egg blue eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose—who spoke gorgeous, flowing Spanish. She asked Sofia question after question, always nodding, always soothing with her tone as she checked the scared girl over.

“She wasn’t raped,” she said gently to me, not raising her voice. “That was supposed to happen next.”

I took a shaky breath and squeezed Sofia’s shoulders.

“They were going to film it,” Bryson said with a cough, her voice trying to even out. “They filmed her naked. You should alert the others.”

But I couldn’t leave the kids, so I yelled for Segundo, who was standing with Hewitt and a couple of police officers. Ian, on the other hand, was talking to the SWAT commander, two other officers in plainclothes, someone I guessed was a police sergeant, and several others. He was the epicenter of the storm, and as I watched, he handed over the gun he’d discharged to one of the policemen, dropping it into an evidence bag along with one unused mag. He’d reloaded at some point. That was disconcerting, because that meant there had to be, at a minimum, fifteen more-than-likely dead men in the house.

“Whose shirt is this?” Bryson asked, drawing my focus to her.

“It’s mine.”

She nodded. “I figured.”

“I tried to look for her clothes, but she just wanted out.”

“She’ll never put on those clothes again, Marshal. The shirt is good.”

Sofia was, in fact, holding the collar over her nose, so I guessed whatever trace of my cologne was on the shirt smelled better than whatever else she had been forced to endure. Oscar shivered and burrowed into my side.

“They both have to be transported to the hospital, Marshal,” she pronounced. “Are you riding with them?”

“Marshal Morse and I are, yes,” I responded.

“Better call him, then, because we have to go.”

“Ian!” I called, and when he turned to find me, I gestured for him.

He joined me at the ambulance in seconds.

“She wasn’t raped.”

His relief, the slight tremble, the droop of his shoulders, and the way he visibly relaxed, calmed me as well.

“They filmed her, though, so collect cell phones and find everything, any laptops; you know the drill. I hope nothing was emailed or—make sure they take this place down to the studs, because we need to be sure there’s no video of her anywhere.”

“I’ll question the witnesses myself. I’ll find out.”

“Okay, I—”

“Do we know if these kids are here legally?” the other EMT—Treschi, his name patch read—asked Bryson. She shrugged.

“Why does it matter?” Ian flared. “Either way, she has to go to the hospital. What the hell?”

“Don’t get all defensive, Marshal.

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