"It's your father," Garza said.
"No," she gasped. "He can't be. My father is dead!"
"Don't you recognize me, sweetie?"
"He was badly hurt when he jumped from the plane," Garza said. "He's had plastic surgery."
Her mouth hanging open, she stared unblinkingly as he came closer. His face was different, more youthful than she remembered it, and slightly misshapen, but finally she realized he was her father. She rushed into his arms, sobbing happily as she hugged him fiercely.
"Daddy… oh, Daddy!"
"It's all right, sweetie," he soothed, patting her back. "Everything's going to be all right now."
"Oh, my God," she moaned between sobs. "Oh, my God!"
Elliott held her until she stopped crying, talking soothingly to her and stroking her back. Then he led her to the couch and sat holding her hand, nervously patting it and squeezing it. "Your mother," he asked. "How is she?"
His innocent question brought a fresh flood of tears. Paula clenched her eyelids tightly shut and lowered her head.
"She's not dead?" Elliott gasped.
Paula shook her head.
"Then what? Is she sick? Tell me, Paula… I've got to know!"
"Oh, Daddy," she groaned mournfully. "You should have stayed away."
"I couldn't. For God's sake, sweetie! I couldn't just leave you and Ruth in that evil monster's clutches! I had to find you! And now that I have, I'm going to take you home. Tell me about your mother… how sick is she? Can she travel?"
Paula shook her head. "She isn't sick like you think. We're both sick, Daddy. Mother and I are addicts."
"What?"
"Pico forced us to take heroin. He had us held down to give it to us at first." She laughed, but it sounded more like a fit of sobbing. "He doesn't have to hold us down any more. We'll both do anything for it now… anything!"
"Oh, good Lord!"
"I was afraid of this," Garza said. "It complicates matters."
"You wouldn't believe some of the things, Daddy," Paula said in a tired voice – little more than a whisper.
"Let's go, Garza," Elliott urged. "Let's get the police and get my wife out of that awful place right now."
Paula glanced at her father, her young eyes showing surprise at his naivete. "Don't count on help from the police."
"She's right," Garza told him. "Too many of them profit from such establishments. Even if we were fortunate enough to tell our story to an honest police official, by the time any action was taken it would probably be too late. Word of the raid would have preceded us and your wife wouldn't be there."
"Then, what can we do? For God's sake, Garza, now that I know where she is, you don't think I'm going to let her stay there, do you?"
"No, Mr. Strickland. We will act tonight, you and I. I have a plan. But we can't do it alone. We will need your daughter's help. Will you help us, Miss Strickland?"
"Miss Strickland," she breathed. "Oh, it sounds good to be called that, after so long! Yes, Mr. Garza, I'll help you. What do you want me to do?"
"Can you get some heroin?" he asked hopefully. "Enough to hold you and your mother until you get home and under a doctor's care?"
"No. There's no way."
"Then I'd better see if I can find a pusher and get it that way. We can do nothing until we have enough to tide you over."
Paula nodded. "I wouldn't dare try to make the trip without it. Once, when I refused to do as Pico ordered, he withheld it from me until I was wishing for death. Oh, God… I never want to go through that again!"
"Methadone," Elliott said. "I read an article about methadone once. If I rememb…"
"Later, Mr. Strickland. We must act fast if we are to take your wife and daughter out tonight. Now, here is my plan. I know you're not going to like part of it, Mr. Strickland. But I've thought it out carefully and can see no other way to free your loved ones safely. Hear me through without interrupting, please."
Elliott nodded.
Garza turned his attention to Paula. "Do you and your mother have free run of the place?"
"I do," she said. "But not mother. She's tried to escape so often that Pico keeps her locked in her room upstairs except for her performances on stage." Paula looked uneasy as she mentioned her mother's stage performances.
"I feared as much," Garza said. "I got that impression when I watched her being led on and off the stage."
"You've seen the show?" Paula gasped, blushing as she glanced quickly at her father.
"I've seen a hundred such shows in at least a dozen cities while I was searching for you and your mother. What time is the place the quietest? When is everyone asleep? And I mean everyone!"
"Not until about five in the morning."
"Then that's when we'll take you out."
"That'll mean another performance for both Mother and myself," Paula said. "We're both on tonight."
"There must be another way!" Elliott snapped. "I don't want Paula going back to that place."
"Hush, Daddy. I'm beginning to see what Mr. Garza has in mind."
"The windows in your mother's room?" Garza asked.
"There's just one, and it's got steel bars."
"The door?"
"Thick and sturdy, padlocked on the hall side."
Garza smiled. "I've yet to find a lock which could resist opening for me. Good. Do you sleep with your mother?"
Paula glanced at her father, "Sometimes."
"Can you arrange to sleep with her tonight?"
"I don't know. After my performance I have to…"
"I understand," Garza said. "But later?"
"I think I can manage."
"You must, Miss Strickland. When your father and I enter that room, you will have to be in it." He got up and went to his suitcase to get out a cigarette lighter. Handing the lighter to Paula, he asked, "Do you smoke?"
She nodded.
"Good. But be sure it's this lighter you take with you into your mother's room. It's more than a lighter. It gives off an FM signal. That's how we'll locate the room."
"All right," she said, gulping. "You'll come at five?"
"Precisely at five."
"What if I can't manage to be in the room? You could hide in the wine cellar and I could come down to the basement and take you to Mother's room a few minutes before five."
"There's a wine cellar?"
"Yes. A large one. It's a very old building."
"That's where your father and I will hide," Garza said, his voice becoming more and more confident. "We'll slip down to it while the show is in progress. Where are the stairs?"
"To the left of the bar," Paula answered, her face beaming with hope.
"Come for us at ten minutes to five, but only if you can't manage to be in the room with your mother. It'll be safer for all of us if you're in the room with her. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I'll try to sleep with her tonight. After the performance I'll pretend I'm sick. I'm rarely sick, so it should work."
"Damn the performance," Elliott hissed. "Be sick before it!"
"No, Mr. Strickland. They mustn't suspect anything. Your daughter will have to go on as planned. And Miss Strickland… don't tell your mother anything about all this. If for some reason we should fail, I think it best she not know of our attempt."
"I agree," Paula answered quickly.
"Give your daughter a hundred dollars instead of fifty, Mr. Strickland. And Miss Strickland… when you give the money to this Pico animal, try to act very pleased and tell him the extra fifty was a tip because your customer was so delighted with you."
"Yes," she said, smiling. "That should put him off guard so far as I'm concerned."
Elliott gave her the money and she tucked it into her purse.
"I have to get busy," Garza sighed. "I must get the heroin or we might as well forget it for tonight. Stay with your father for the usual length of time. I don't want you to get back too early. It would arouse suspicions."