by Melinda Colt
LOST GIRL
An Irish Garda Squad novella
Melinda Colt
LOST GIRL
Copyright © 2020 Melinda Colt
Cover design: coveredbymelinda.com
Edited by Susanne Matthews
Crime consultant: Detective Simon McLean, author of The Ten Percent
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
“I hope that real love and truth are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world.”
― Charles Dickens
Chapter One
Detective Garda Finola ‘Finn’ McGregor took another sip of her coffee without lowering her binoculars. She had no intention of taking her eyes off the child she was watching, even if the camera on the tripod next to her recorded each of the girl’s movements. It was a useful tool though, and made her vigil easier.
Unlike in the movies, a police officer’s job wasn’t all that glamorous. In Ireland, most cases were cracked within twenty-four hours. Being a detective here was no episode of Columbo. But this case was different. A week ago, the police had received an anonymous tip that three children had been seen begging in different spots of Dublin’s historical center. Immediately, An Garda Síochána had put together a team to determine if this were a case of child exploitation, a crime sadly becoming more and more common. Every year, forty million people became the victims of human trafficking. One victim out of four was a child. While the majority were forced into sexual exploitation, children were also used in areas such as begging and labor.
Finn didn’t care that the Chief Inspector had chosen her to be part of the surveillance team only because she happened to live in a tiny flat overlooking the city center, giving her a clear view of the girl she was assigned to watch. This was her big chance—not just to prove she deserved the promotion she wanted, but to save this child.
Three children were involved in this operation, two boys and this girl. Two other detectives watched the boys. One of them was stationed in front of Abbey Street Methodist Church, while the second hung out at the central bus stop. She’d seen them when she’d strolled by, assuming the demeanor of an average pedestrian making her way home after a work day. They looked to be six to eight years old, shockingly thin, dressed in ragged clothes sorely inappropriate for November’s premature winter weather.
It broke her heart to see those small faces peeking out from behind black locks, the hopeless eyes that had seen more horror than most people experienced in a lifetime. The boys were most likely Roma children, since gypsies were the easiest to traffic, especially those from certain Eastern-European countries. Some were born into families so poor and ignorant that sometimes their parents didn’t even bother registering their births, let alone file a complaint with the police if their children went missing. A trafficker could buy a child for as little as a few hundred Euros, and often the parents themselves sold their children, not caring what might happen to them. The reality of modern slavery was appalling, but as a cop, Finn knew her job was to fix the things over which she had control—one at a time.
The girl she watched was about seven years old. Unlike the boys, she had a fair complexion and beautiful, long, blond hair, even tangled and unwashed. Her large, blue eyes were stunning, and Finn could see why many people stopped and placed coins or bills into the girl’s outstretched hand.
Finn knew the worst thing anyone could do was to give the children money because they didn’t get to keep a cent of it. Anything they collected went straight to the traffickers. Still, looking at those sad eyes and sunken cheeks reddened by cold, she had to fight the need to snatch the child, take her home, and give her a hot meal and warm clothes. It wouldn’t do any good.
As a police officer, she had to go by the law, and that meant they needed solid evidence that the children were indeed the victims of human trafficking and forced to beg. The police had to build a strong case in order to rescue the victims and make sure the criminals were punished. If there was no victim, there was no crime. They needed the testimony of a witness.
After observing her for a week and discussing the case with the team, Finn had decided this little girl was their best shot at that. There was a sense of defiance about her, something that told Finn that she would grab the first chance she had not only to get away, but to make her abusers pay.
From a distance, in the comfort of her own apartment, heart aching for the child, Finn watched the sad tableau before her. Each morning a man brought the girl to the same spot. He would squeeze her thin shoulder and talk to her briefly, then leave. The most common method for keeping the kids in line was to starve and beat them if they didn’t collect a certain amount of money each day. It was amazing how effective such methods could be in training a child, a disgusting technique often used to train animals. Still, the traffickers were no fools. The handler, who was in charge of this girl and the two boys, was never very far away, checking up on all three of his charges several times a day.
With the help of Finn’s photos and camera recordings, the cybercrime detectives had quickly identified the man through facial recognition software. Seamus Fraser was forty-three, unmarried, currently unemployed, and before that he’d worked as a bartender at a pub. The problem was that Fraser had no criminal record, not even a bloody unpaid speeding ticket. On paper, he was a law-abiding citizen. If the Gardaí arrested him without sufficient evidence, they would be taking a tremendous risk. If they didn’t charge him within forty-eight hours, they would have to set him free. In that case, it would be anyone’s guess as to what would happen to the children. Would he and his partners in crime—if he had any—make them disappear? She shuddered. The Garda would have to use kid gloves to build an irrefutable case against Fraser and his potential associates.
Fraser picked up the little girl every night between seven and eight o’clock, always accompanied by the two boys. Because the downtown area was a pedestrian mall, Finn had followed him several days ago to see what kind of car he had and where he parked it. After tailing him discretely, she’d discovered he drove a dark-gray, battered Ford Transit Wagon with darkened back windows, parking it in approximately the same place each day. She’d run the plate numbers and knew he owned the vehicle.
Now that she understood their apparent routine, she was determined to follow them tonight. She hadn’t cleared it with her superiors and knew she might get hell for this, but her gut told her to save the children as soon as possible. God only knew what they were going through. Finn couldn’t waste any more time. Besides, rules aside, wasn’t it her job as a cop to act in the victims’ best interest? She just hoped her gut didn’t steer her wrong tonight.
She glanced at her watch. It was half past six and already dark outside. The festive holiday lights adorning the city had lost their charm. How could she think of Christmas and presents while watching this girl, who probably didn’t even know the holiday’s true meaning? Finn imagined there was always winter in the child’s cold and lonely life. What kind of monster would do this to a child—to anyone?
She got to her feet, wincing as the blood began to flow again. Her entire body ached, and she was anxious to get moving. At twenty-six, she was still as limber as a cat, but she could feel each year weighing on her, especially around Christmastime.
As she stretched, Bryan unlocked the door and walked inside, shaking snow off his coat.
“Hey, what’s up?” His smile crinkled his bright, blue eyes.
Finn walked over and kissed his cold cheek, the
n ruffled his perfectly combed blond hair. She knew it drove him crazy.
“I need to go. I have to work tonight,” she said.
Bryan’s smile faltered as he took off his coat and boots. In the two years they’d been together, he’d never asked any specific questions about her job. As a lawyer, he understood the need for confidentiality.
Guilty that she’d neglected him the last few days, Finn hoped he would understand. At his crestfallen look, she hesitated, then took his hand and pulled him to the window.
“Do you see that little girl, the one begging in front of McDonald’s?” She handed him the binoculars.
Bryan raised them to his eyes. His face creased in pity as he gazed across the crowded square.
Finn used the camera on her phone and its zoom function to watch as well. The girl was trying to warm her frozen hands by blowing on them, her breath steaming in the chilly night air. A passerby stopped and dug into his pocket, took out a bill, and handed it to the child, who quickly stuck it inside her pocket. One more bill to fund the traffickers.
“We have reason to believe she’s a trafficked child, forced to beg,” Finn said.
Bryan would cut out his own tongue before repeating anything that she’d told him in confidence. Staring into his kind eyes, love filled her at his sorrowful expression. One of the many things she adored about him was his compassionate nature, which he’d kept along with his integrity even while working in the cutting-edge world of corporate law.
“Is there anything I can do?” His sad, troubled gaze was still on the child.
“Just heat up a can of soup, eat, and don’t wait up.”
Finn hurried to the bedroom where she donned a pair of jeans, a thick sweater, and fluffy socks. She belted her service gun around her waist, camouflaging it under her bulky sweater. Recently, she’d cut her straight, red hair into a bob, and she was happy it needed little maintenance. She didn’t usually wear a hat, but now pulled on a brimmed, winter cap that hid part of her face, then wrapped a scarf around her chin for better concealment.
At the door, Bryan helped her into her winter jacket. He wanted to ask questions, needed to know where she was going, and that she would be okay, but as always, he stayed quiet. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, enjoying his strength as he hugged her tightly.
“Be careful, yeah?” Unsuccessfully, he tried to hide the concern in his eyes.
She caressed his cheek. “Always am. I don’t know when I’ll be home, so don’t worry.”
“Always do. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Finn said, before rushing outside into the cold.
Chapter Two
Finn had a plan, one she’d been mulling over the last couple of days. Using the back entrance to exit her building, she detoured to approach the child from the opposite direction in case Fraser were close enough to observe the girl. The little blonde was still in her spot, bouncing from one foot to the other to keep warm. Behind her was a fast food restaurant. Finn went inside, ordered a double burger, an apple pie, and tea, all the while keeping a casual eye on the girl. When the food was ready, she took it and headed outside. She pretended to notice the girl and walked over with feigned hesitance.
“Hi.” She smiled, hoping to set the child at ease.
Startled, the little girl raised her huge, blue eyes. She must be reasonably new at the game because she didn’t appear used to having people talk to her. That was a good thing. Maybe her scars, both emotional and physical, might heal one day.
“Hi.” The child’s gaze darted nervously right and left, and Finn knew she was checking to see if Fraser was nearby.
“What’s your name?”
The girl hesitated, then answered shyly. “Maddie.”
Finn offered her the bag. “Nice to meet you, Maddie. I’m Finn. I don’t have any cash on me, but I think you need this more than I do.”
The girl stared at the bag before reaching for it. Slowly, she opened it. Finn could almost see her salivating.
“I hope you like it.”
“Yes. Thank you, ma’am.”
The child’s accent surprised her. Cockney? Could this little girl be British?
“You haven’t even tasted it.” Finn wanted to make sure the child ate and looked at her insistently.
Maddie reached inside the bag and removed the burger. Her hands were dirty, with her fingernails bitten to the quick. She stared at the sandwich, but the temptation was too much for the poor kid. She started eating, greedily but with a semblance of manners.
How had this child come to be here? Finn didn’t dare ask because any suspicious questions or actions might result in the girl’s disappearance. She’d overstayed her welcome as it was. As much as it pained her to leave Maddie, she had to—for now. At least the child had warm food in her stomach, and no one could take that away from her.
Finn was about to leave when she spotted Fraser out of the corner of her eye. He was alone tonight. Maddie froze, the remainder of the burger halfway to her mouth. Finn bent down and patted her on the head.
“Don’t forget to drink your tea, too.”
With one final glance and painful regret in her chest, Finn walked away. She needed to retreat for now, but this was a victory.
She stopped by one of the restaurants in the area, ordered a serving of chicken soup and three ham sandwiches to go. She might be on a fool’s errand, but damn it, she had to do something. If it worked out, so much the better; if it failed, she’d be out the price of a meal and would be spared the looks of those in the department who would have her head and her badge if they knew what she was contemplating. Her mother had always said it was easier to beg forgiveness than to apologize. Besides, in this weather, every day those children were begging on the street could be their last one. No child deserved a life like that.
Twenty minutes later, Finn left the restaurant with the bag of food and walked quickly toward where she’d parked her car that morning in preparation for tonight’s activities, darting discrete glances behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Fraser had been alone, an unusual occurrence, but one perfect for her, giving her more time to get organized. Stepping up her pace, she headed down the street.
Once inside the vehicle, she reached under the passenger seat for the backpack she’d stashed there. Taking out the new thermos she’d prepared, she transferred the hot soup into it, managing to spill no more than a few drops. Pleased with her success, she twisted the lid closed, placing it and the sandwiches into the backpack. So far, so good.
Since she wasn’t cold, she kept her engine off while she waited, her eyes glued on the van two cars away. She didn’t have long to wait. Within half an hour, Fraser showed up with the three children in tow. He unlocked the van, motioned for them to climb into the back, secured the door, then got in behind the wheel. He started the engine and drove away.
Timing was crucial. Finn’s heart pounded as she waited before engaging her own engine. She forced herself to stay put several seconds before pulling out onto the street to follow the van, allowing three cars between her own and Fraser’s—far enough back to avoid detection, close enough not to lose sight of him.
In highly sensitive cases like these, the police had to be careful; however, Finn felt they were moving too slowly, dragging their feet. She hadn’t discussed this plan with the team because she was afraid they would object. If she succeeded, things might move along more quickly; if she failed, they would at least know where Fraser was keeping the children. Maybe she was being reckless, but feck, she had to take this next step. She just had to make sure she didn’t screw up and raise Fraser’s suspicions.
She followed the van through the labyrinth of streets that was Dublin’s downtown. Traffic was heavy, and it had started to snow again. Finn was grateful for the large snowflakes, offering a little more concealment. Fraser wouldn’t be able to see much in his side mirror. Besides, he had no reason to be suspicious. Giving Maddie food earlier meant nothing. She’d observed others
doing the same thing. Maybe, like herself, they knew what happened to the money they gave the children.
Despite the fact that she was familiar with victim psychology, Stockholm syndrome, and similar studies, Finn found it hard to understand why children simply didn’t run away from their abusers. Kids ran away from loving families all the time, and yet these poor souls stayed.
These children were often beaten into submission and starved unless they obeyed. Occasionally, they would be rewarded for doing as they were told. The technique was simple but horrifyingly effective. Trafficked children were divided into two categories: those who had families and were kept in line by threats against their loved ones, and those whose families either didn’t care about them or didn’t exist. In that case, the children were told they had no place to go, no choice other than to do what they were told.
Threats were used to stop them from speaking to the authorities. Their abductors often lied to them, telling them that if the police caught them, they would be sent to prison. If adults could fall prey to this manipulation, how could defenseless children withstand it? No wonder they stayed put, paralyzed by fear and helplessness.
A tear slid down her cheek, and she berated herself for it. She was a detective, for feck’s sake. She wasn’t going to rescue these children and punish the scumbags who’d trafficked them by crying like some bleeding heart do-gooder. There would be time to give in to her emotions once the children were safe.
Following the vehicle, she drove toward North Dublin, grateful that it was snowing harder, with ice pellets in the mix. She had a better view of her target than he had of her behind his van. It looked as though providence was with her tonight.
Fraser headed to Finglas, a neighborhood that used to have a bad reputation, but was slowly cleaning itself up. Not fast enough though—not yet. New and old houses lined the streets. In some places, the homes were close together, in others, they were mixed in with warehouses and commercial space. There weren’t many cars on the road now, so Finn allowed the distance between her small, black Volkswagen and the van to grow. Just as she was beginning to feel conspicuous, Fraser slowed his vehicle and rolled to a stop in front of a shabby, single-story house.