Jonah (Chicago Blaze #7) - Brenda Rothert Page 0,1

left outside the second door on the left side of the hallway.”

“Want this, too?” I hold out the candy bar.

She nods, but doesn’t move.

“Is it okay if I come closer to give it to you?” I ask.

She eyes me skeptically. I reach for the badge hanging around my neck inside my vest, pull it out and show it to her, saying, “I’m a police officer. Agent Diaz. You can call me Reyna, though.”

Her shoulders sink slightly as she relaxes.

“I won’t do anything unless you say it’s okay,” I say. “If you don’t want me to come any closer to you, I won’t.”

“I want to go home,” she says, her throat so raw I can’t even hear the last word she says; I only get it by reading her lips.

Fury builds hard and fast inside me, my blood pressure rising with it. Those fucking bastards. This poor girl likely lost her voice while screaming from what they did to her. I know they’ll probably get theirs when they get to prison. No one with a shred of decency stands by and lets child rapists breathe easy.

“I know, baby,” I say softly. “Where is your home?”

She recites an address in Marysville, Ohio.

“Diaz,” Adrian says from the doorway. “Last room is clear.”

He sets the bottle of water down and meets my gaze.

“Marysville, Ohio,” I tell him.

He nods and leaves, knowing better than to walk into the room. When I rescue kids, no one but me goes into the room, and I don’t walk out with them until they’re ready to go.

I go get the bottle of water and ask the girl again if I can give it to her. She nods and I approach, twisting the cap off before handing it to her.

“I’d like to take you to the hospital to get checked out,” I say as I hand it to her. “Would that be okay with you?”

She’s drinking the water in huge gulps, a trickle running down to her neck. Poor thing is probably dehydrated, from the looks of her. If I had two minutes alone in a room with the one asshole who didn’t just get shot, I’d probably do things to him that would get me fired.

No, I definitely would. My only consolation is that what happens to him in prison will be worse than anything I could do.

“Can you just take me home?” she asks pleadingly.

“I will, but first I need to find out who you are and make sure you’re okay.”

In a matter of two seconds, tears flood her eyes and spill onto her cheeks. She covers her face with her hands and sobs, and I have to squeeze my own burning eyes closed to keep from crying myself.

Of course she’s not okay. She was abducted and sexually assaulted. But I have to use words she can understand, and take this one small step at a time. If I told this poor, terrorized child what rape kits are, I’d never get her into a hospital. And unfortunately, the evidence they’ll get from her body is essential to building a case.

I decide to unleash just a tiny bit of the real Reyna Diaz for her, hoping it’s the right approach.

“Hey,” I say softly. “I want to tell you a little about me. I became an FBI agent when I was twenty-six. I’m thirty now, and I’ve been rescuing kids like you for three years now. I do this every day, and I’m really good at it. I’ve gotten 131 kids back to a safe place after this happened to them, and you’ll be the 132nd. I won’t leave your side until you want me to, I promise. I have this gun,” I pat my holstered weapon, “and I will use it against anyone who tries to hurt you. What happened to you was terrible, and I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve gotten here sooner. But it’s over. It’s over, and you’re safe with me. I can be a badass bitch when I need to be, okay?”

She lowers her hands and nods.

“What’s your name, baby?” I ask gently.

“Carly,” she says, sniffling.

“Carly, do you want to walk out of this place with me and never see it again?”

She looks over at the wall. “Are they out there?”

I shake my head. “No. A lot of police officers came here with me, and they killed two of those men and took the other one to the police station. He’s going to jail. I just need you to walk out to my vehicle