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Yelling and commands fill the air around us, and the noise makes my head hurt. It’s not out of the norm for teams like this to respond this way. Cerberus just usually takes a shoot first ask questions later kind of approach. The sheriff’s department here in Albany County, Wyoming, would take on a lot of scrutiny if they acted the same way we do when out of the country. Plus, if Grace isn’t here, we’ll need to get that information out of them.
“New Mexico, you’re cleared to enter,” squawks out of the radio, and we’re on the move, cautiously making our way across the field beside the house.
We know there’s still the possibility of danger. They could’ve implemented any number of traps to keep people off their property and protect their purchases.
“Grinch,” Kid warns when I move a little faster than the others, inching ahead more than we allow for with these types of situations.
I take a deep breath, pausing and allowing the team to catch up, but I don’t have much more restraint in me.
What do I say to her when I see her?
Do I risk hugging her, not knowing what she’s gone through in the last couple of days?
Will she be happy to see me or have that same look of annoyance on her face she had the last time I saw her all those years ago?
“Two males, two females.” The voice on the radio makes my skin crawl. “The second woman is going to need medical. Jesus, how is she still alive?”
I don’t know if the team speeds up with this news because I move faster, or if we just collectively decide it’s best to get to the house sooner.
Despite being the team leader for Team C, Kid has seniority, and he enters first. Several of the SWAT guys shift, chests puffing out like they’re irritated we’re even here, but I don’t have time to stroke their small-town egos. I also don’t stand taller in an effort to exert my own sense of machismo. It won’t help right now.
“The second victim?” Kid asks, turning as he follows the point of a SWAT team member’s finger.
Curled in on herself in the corner is a woman covered in slashes. Her skin is torn in so many places, it’s redder and more inflamed than normal.
“It’s not her,” I gasp.
“They could’ve dyed her hair,” the SWAT member says.
The top of the woman’s head is curled down toward her legs, her hair a dark shield as she trembles.
Rivet steps forward, noticing the same thing I did upon first sight.
“Some of the wounds are infected,” my team member says. “They’re older than what Grace would have if she got them after she was taken.”
Kid nods his head in agreement, and I’m torn on emotions right now.
I take a step back as the SWAT team starts making plans to have the women secured and moved to safety.
I’m relieved that the injured woman isn’t Grace, and that brings with it a wave of guilt for being grateful that it’s not the woman I know who’s hurt so bad she’s going to be covered in scar tissue reminders of what happened here for the rest of her life.
“I’m going to want their information,” Kid says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Yet, we’re not in any place to demand such things.
One of the SWAT guys steps forward. “You’re not privileged to that info.”
“Cerberus has resources you guys don’t. We have the ability to help her in ways you can’t,” Kid says, his voice calm and even.
The SWAT guy narrows his eyes but doesn’t say a word. I know that the request from Kid is just an act of courtesy. Max will have the women’s information long before the sheriff’s department types those names on their report at the end of the day.
“Are we pulling the perps?” another guy asks.
The same SWAT guy that refused Kid the information he requested keeps his eye on the senior Cerberus member for a long second before turning his attention back to his own man.
“No. I want them cuffed and in separate rooms.” He turns his attention back to Kid. “You have five minutes to speak with them. After they leave here, you won’t have access.”
“I appreciate that,” Kid says.
“And it would be a real shame if medical staff at the jail find that they beat the shit out of each other before SWAT arrived.”
“They do seem to have explosive and violent personalities,” Kid agrees, taking it as the permission he needs to use any persuasion techniques necessary to get the information we need. It’s the best we could’ve hoped for.
The SWAT guy nods before walking away and moving his men from the rooms the two buyers are situated in.
Kid steps into the room with the guy who brought the woman to the house but turns around to indicate that I follow him instead of entering the next room with the older man.
