The Black Coats(66)

OFFENSE: Chris McCray is an accountant who has been accused of trafficking young women for the sex trade. Please make sure this person is too scared to complete their work.

Signed,

The Black Coats

Mirabelle held up the file. “We have his work address. He usually works until at least seven. Let’s hope he didn’t decide to go home early.” She grinned. Thea tried to silence Drew’s words playing in her mind: Justice is not what you are giving.

The wealthy suburbs of Austin receded as the car wound its way just outside of town. Mirabelle’s car passed a handful of new hotels on the right, and the road curved left, leading them away from civilization. The road stopped in a circular parking lot, an isolated office building in front of them. It was a new build, and at its base sat a handful of stores, all vacant except for one: McCray Accounting, Inc. Thea’s chest was tight with unease as she stepped out of the car. Mirabelle leaned forward and looked through the windshield, slowly unbuckling her seat belt. The parking lot was empty save for a single sedan and a bunch of construction equipment.

Casey got out of the car. “Well, this is definitely creepy.”

There was no sound other than plastic sheeting snapping in the wind, and small bits of gravel blowing in circles near their feet.

Thea straightened her coat as a trickle of sweat ran down her forehead. “Let’s get this done as quickly as possible. Louise, you lead.”

They moved forward as one black mass, Louise taking quick steps to the door, followed by Mirabelle and Thea. Casey took the rear, the keys clutched in her hand. Thea made her way over to the windows and looked inside. The office was empty. The door was unlocked, and they stepped inside, where a pleasant chime announced their arrival. The storefront was barren. Instead of a firm, there was only a single desk at the back of the room, holding a potted plant and a sleek laptop. The room smelled of new carpet.

Someone was moving in the back room; they watched as a shadow passed over the floor. It grew in size as their target moved toward the door. Thea spun and locked the door behind them before motioning to the group. “There might be a rear exit. We need to move!”

Louise gave Thea a quick nod and plunged forward down the hallway with Mirabelle behind her. Thea heard a gasp, and then she was moving behind them, to where her teammates stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.

In front of them, a tiny woman stared back, her eyes wide in fear behind frameless glasses. She was wearing a crisp white shirt under a black sweater draped over her thin shoulders and a pencil skirt, reminding Thea of a kindly librarian.

Louise turned to her leader, her pert face twisted in confusion.

A witness, thought Thea. This wasn’t good. Thea stepped forward, projecting a cool confidence that she did not actually feel at the moment. “We’re looking for Chris McCray. Is he here?”

The woman stepped backward. “I’m Chris McCray. How can I help you?” She raised a shaking hand to her chest.

Nixon’s words flashed in Thea’s mind. Occasionally, we will have a woman target. There are, unfortunately, women who hurt women out there and they are owed justice just like any man. It’s rare, but it has happened.

“Are you here to hurt me?” The lady stepped backward, her lip quivering.

Thea hesitated for a moment. They couldn’t hurt this woman, right? She saw Drew’s disappointed face in front of her. Thea Soloman, judge and jury. She took a step back. “I’m sorry, I think we must have the wrong . . .”

But by then it was too late; her hesitation had cost them everything. She heard the front door chime, that cheery, ringing sound, even though she had locked the door behind them. Something’s not right, she thought, before the chilling realization struck. The abandoned building. The car in the parking lot. The empty office. This is a trap.

“Go!” she screamed to her team, but it was too late. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. A gloved black hand grabbed her waist, pinning her arms against her. Thea kicked off the wall, but there was another man, grabbing her legs and twisting them so that her body was wrenched sideways. A cloth was pushed forcefully over her mouth and nose. When she could breathe again, she smelled the chemicals seeping into her lungs, the pungent burn of chloroform. Thea turned her head, her body flailing to no avail.

Casey was already slumped on the floor with a man crouched over her. Her hand was clenching as she reached for the car keys, inches away from her fingers. As Thea watched, a black boot came down on her hand, breaking Casey’s fingers. Casey’s screams filled the room, the sound tearing apart everything left inside of Thea. Behind her she could hear the sounds of Mirabelle struggling; her normally strong voice was whimpering, pleading.

Thea could see in front of her that Louise was still fighting strong—Team Banner’s little teacup of fire. One man was down, and two more were struggling with her. Louise twisted and rammed her elbow into one man’s nose; blood splattered the new carpet beneath her as another man lifted her off her feet. How many are there? Everything in front of Thea blurred and spun. Hold on, hold on, she shouted to herself.

Chris McCray stepped in front of Thea’s face with a soft smile. Then she roughly grabbed her cheeks, her long fingernails pressing into Thea’s skin. “So you’re the girl that Julie is so worried about. You don’t look like much.” She clicked her tongue. “Naughty, naughty Thea, sleeping with the enemy.”