Butterfly Girl

by Rona Jameson

  “I’ve been here before. I know where we are. I’m not sure exactly what is going on, but we don’t have a choice except to show up.”

  “I know you think I’ll be safe because of the Reverend, but what about you? Plus, do you really trust Ezequiel?”

  “I don’t trust any of them, Wren. You shouldn’t either.” He glares and then starts the car up the dark road.

  My belly is in knots the closer we get to the site. I don’t remember much being there before, and as we come into view of the top of the hill, all I see is a wooden shack—and cars. I don’t recognize any of them.

  “I’m sorry you’re involved in this, Wren. I should have gotten you out before I even got in with the Reverend.” Silas reaches back and takes my hand. “Your mother would be so proud of you and, no matter what happens, I need you to believe that. She loved you. She didn’t leave you, she thought you were dead. I don’t know how he did it, but she would never have left you there with him. Never. You have to believe that, even if you don’t believe anything else.”

  “You’re scaring me more than those men right now.”

  “Listen to me. If anything happens to me, go to Marcel’s house. In the corner, by the front window in the living room, pull the baseboard free. Inside is a lockbox. It holds pictures of me and your mom as kids growing up. Me in my uniform. Your mom as a young girl. There are letters she wrote to me. Including the last letter I ever received from her. That’s who your mom really was. Don’t believe anything the Reverend tells you.” He parks and climbs from the car.

  I’m dazed listening to him. Tears well in my eyes knowing that the situation we are in won’t be ending well. Silas knows that too, otherwise, why would he tell me where to go to learn about my mother?

  Silas opens the door as I wipe the tears from my face. A man in an expensive looking suit steps out of the shack, and Silas looks like he’s going to be sick as his eyes meet mine. “When I tell you to, run. Don’t look back. You run and hide. I love you, kid,” he says, and turns to face the man who looks vaguely familiar.

  41

  RAFAEL

  LOOKING for a pair of strong cutters in the toolbox is impossible. Dad’s not the most organized person when it comes to tools. Giving up, I grab the metal box and upend it. The contents fall over the wooden floor, clattering on top of each other. However, I smile when I spot the cutters. I knock my hand with the wooden sliver in it and curse. Lifting my palm to my mouth. I nibble and suck on the damn thing. Luckily, that works, and I don’t have to go hunting for a sharp needle to stab my skin with.

  That done, my mind returns to the girls in the tunnel. It spins at what we may have stumbled upon, and if that is the case, then the Reverend and his friends are going to be even more desperate to keep it to themselves. Dad hadn’t even thought about human trafficking. Not once had it been mentioned from anyone. According to the DEA and John, Dad’s friend with the FBI, the only whispers have been about drugs.

  “Got the blankets,” Dad announces, dragging my attention to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why doesn’t anyone know about the girls? The two we’ve found can’t be the only ones. Someone would have talked or suspected. You have contacts with the FBI and DEA and yet neither of them have mentioned human trafficking. Why? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Dad’s thoughtful as he moves into the kitchen. I follow and place the cutters onto the table beside the blankets. Grabbing two bottles of water, I place them down while I empty the book bag I’ve been using for school. “I hate to ask this, but are you sure you can trust them?”

  “Rafael.” He sighs. “I’ve known them for years. Since before the raid. I’ve never known them to lie or mislead. There is the possibility that they did not know.”

  Mulling that over in my head, I realize I’m not as convinced as Dad. They’ve been watching the Reverend for a while. They must have been for Silas to have gotten involved. Someone knew something, that I’m convinced of.

  “Ken messaged back saying he’s getting a warrant signed as we speak, and a team together. He wants us to stand down until they get here.”

  “No fucking way! We promised those girls we’d be back. I’m not leaving them.” I shove everything into the book bag before swinging it onto my back. “We are going now. They can catch up.”

  Hesitating for a few seconds, Dad finally agrees and sends Ken another message telling him where we’re heading. At least they’ll know where to rescue us from if we get caught.

  “I’m ready.” He takes his weapon from the holster and keeps it pointed to the ground as we head out of the house and across the open area between our place and the Reverend’s.

  We’re just as careful as the last time because of the tunnels, the Reverend could have made his way home without our knowledge. The last thing we need is to come across him before we have the girls, the drugs, and, most importantly, Wren.

  Entering the tunnel this time, there is a different odor than before. It overrides the smell of damp earth. My nose twitches, and I whisper, “Vinegar?”

  Dad frowns. “Heroin has a distinctively strong vinegar smell.” He pauses. “I don’t know why we would be smelling it down here.”

  “Could someone be smoking it up ahead?” I whisper.

  “Only one way to find out. Keep the flashlight off.” Dad slips fully into the tunnel and uses the wall for guidance.

  I follow behind and find the smell is stronger the further in we move. We turn left at the crossroads and then head quickly to the room. Not seeing or hearing any sign of anyone, Dad finds his way to the door, and curses. “It’s not locked,” he hisses, flinging the door open, his weapon up, ready for trouble. “Fuck, they’ve taken them.”

  Staring at the empty cell, it takes a moment for me to realize that they really have been moved. “There’s cameras everywhere. We weren’t bothered before because it’s all ending tonight, but what if they knew we’d found them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That means they’ve probably moved the drugs too. We have to check.”

  “No!” Dad grabs my arm as I turn to leave. “We’ll go back to the house and wait for Ken and the team to get here. This is too big for us. The girls could be anywhere.”

  What he says is true, but it’s really bothering me that they were so quick to respond. Voices in the distance draw my attention. At least two people are moving in from the other end of the tunnel. Dad grabs my arm and gives me a slight push to indicate for me to move back the way we came. Rounding the corner, we pause and watch the low beam of a flashlight flicker in the distance. It hovers around the room where we’d just been. We wait and see what happens, but after a minute or two the beam moves back the way it came from.

  Placing my mouth beside Dad’s ear, I whisper, “Let’s go along the other tunnel.” Dad shakes his head, so I add, “We’ll check it out and then go and wait for Ken. I won’t do anything foolish.”

  He hesitates, then finally nods. I think he knew I’d go anyway.

  This tunnel feels damper than the others and there is a lot more water on the ground. As we slowly move further along, the ground starts to slope downward and snakes left, and then right, before heading back again. “Water,” I whisper. I don’t even question myself because the soft lapping against the bank is distinctive. Either that or it’s a small fishing boat sloshing through the water.

  Moonlight filters through what looks to be the entrance of this particular tunnel, and that’s when we notice water gently swishing in the entrance. The larger body of water is where the tunnel leads as we stay to the side and look out.

  “Laguna Madre,” Dad says. “Padre Island is across from us.”

  Again, I hear the swish of a boat traveling through the water. “It sounds bigger than a fishing boat,” I think aloud as my eyes adjust to the night sky. “There!” I point south.

  “A trawler,” Dad comments, removing his phone. “I’ve told Ken to get the coast guard out here.”

  “Don’t the
y have boats in these waters, being so close to Mexico?”

  “Yes. The coast guard can only cover so much area, and if they have a contact, they could find out the timetable of any given night.” He pauses. “We need to head back.”

  Unfortunately, I agree as I follow Dad back to the Reverend’s basement. The house is still dark without a sound other than the creaks that you’d expect from an old house. When we reach the kitchen, my feet refuse to carry on moving. I can’t go. I need to find Wren. I’ve tried to put her from my mind while we helped the girls, but I’m unable to do that now. “I’m going up to Wren’s room. I need to check.”

  “I’ll wait here.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “You go back and wait for Ken. If the Reverend returns, I’ll go out onto the roof.”

  Dad hesitates before he follows my lead and disappears into the night.

  Moving upstairs, I head straight into Wren’s bedroom and close the door softly behind me. I smile when I spot my shirt tucked into the top of her bed, no Wren, though. Footsteps downstairs cause me to freeze, and when I hear them on the stairs, I quickly get through the window. My heart is in my throat while I try to catch my breath. Wren’s butterfly, Tiger Lily, appears before me. His wings fluttering as he hovers and watches me. “Can you find Wren?” I quietly ask. “She needs us.”

  The banging of a door close by—Wren’s bedroom door—resonates in the window frame, and I quickly jump off the trellis on the side of the house. My feet touch the ground and I calmly walk toward my house. I don’t care if he sees me anymore. He’s going to be behind bars soon.

  “Rafael,” he yells. “I know you’re there, Rafael. You’ll never have my daughter.” He laughs in a hysterical way, as though he’s on the way to becoming insane.

  As much as I want to go back and pound the asshole until he tells me where Wren is, I don’t. I ignore him and carry on walking toward Dad, who is standing on the back porch, waiting and watching.

  I sigh heavily. “Wren, where the fuck are you?”

  42

  WREN

  MY KNEES TREMBLE at the look on the man’s face coming toward us. Silas is shocked speechless and moves to block me from view. The man laughs. “As though you can protect her from us.” He shakes his head. “I have no wish to harm Wren.”

  “Why, Ken? I trusted you. Marcel trusted you.” Silas places a hand on my arm. “Why, dammit?”

  I slip around him, wanting to get a better look at the man—to remember who he is—if I have a future.

  The man from the church! Marcel’s friend.

  “My wife was sick. We didn’t have the money to pay for treatment.” He shrugs. “In the end, it didn’t matter, she died anyway.” I truly believe those words are the truth…the pain in his voice says volumes more than his words do. He coughs and continues. “You should have stayed overseas.”

  “I’ve had enough of this reunion,” Ezequiel snaps at Silas. “Get the girl from the car and bring her to me.”

  Silas hesitates, throwing a frown in the other man’s direction before he glances at Ken, who slightly shakes his head without looking at anyone before heading back toward the shack he came out of.

  “Girl. Now!” Ezequiel snaps his fingers, and his men point guns at us.

  There are four men around the shack, two on each side of Ezequiel, and another eight spread out around the perimeter from my quick count. Those men face outward. Waiting for trouble. There’s no point in running. They’d catch me or kill me within seconds. And who knows if there are more hiding in the tree line.

  My body feels chilled in just my shorts and a tank top. It must be really late for the air to be this cool.

  A hand nudges mine and I turn to face Silas. “Do as they say, Wren,” he whispers. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “Me too.” I move with him to the side of the car and hold the door while he gets the girl out. I’m not sure if I’m helping at all but I’m trying to protect his back. He doesn’t trust these men, and neither do I. The only thing I believe is that they have no intention of harming me. Intention. Things could change.

  Moving with Silas as he carries the sleeping girl toward the shack, I ask Ezequiel, “Where is the Reverend?”

  “Home.” He pushes me forward and I stumble up the wooden steps.

  Silas pauses and casts a quick glance in my direction. He stays silent and enters the shack. I follow, scared of what is inside. It can’t be much considering the size of it.

  I’m mistaken.

  There is a large hole in the ground with wooden steps leading down into the dark. Silas stops and refuses to budge. “What the fuck is down there?”

  “Don’t be a baby, big man.” Ezequiel laughs. “I will show you.” He steps around us and goes down the steps first.

  The girl makes a slight noise, but when I step forward to check, Silas moves down the steps before I can touch her. I do the only thing I can do and follow. The stairs creak under our weight and the smell is horrid—sweat, musty earth, and my nose twitches before I reach up and cover it and my mouth.

  Vinegar?

  Towards the bottom, I look around and see a dented lantern hanging off a rusty hook. It’s attached to a wooden post that looks to be keeping the earth above us from caving in. My heart pounds heavily at the thought of being trapped beneath the ground. Are we in a mining shaft, I wonder? The ground is uneven, and I feel sick at what else might be down here with us. I’ve had enough experiences with the basement back home and that came with rodents scurrying around. The last thing I want is to experience that again.

  The tunnel snakes around to the right and then we come to a room. The men hold flashlights at the room. It’s made of rusty old tin and gives me a bad feeling. I move forward and cling to Silas’s arm. I don’t want to be in here. I want Rafael—to have his arms around my body, telling me everything is going to be okay.

  Silas hesitates and moves forward into what turns out to be a small jail cell. I freeze, staying at the door. Suddenly tense, ready for a fight, Silas turns to exit—then I’m shoved inside with him and the door slams shut behind us.

  I blink a few times and then scream, “Let us out. You can’t do this.” I shake the door. It doesn’t budge.

  “My men will have fun with you.” Ezequiel snickers. “They’ll loosen you up before giving you back to the Reverend. Make sure he doesn’t double-cross me again.” To Silas, he says, “And you, DEA Agent Silas Mathis, can spend time in this cell with your niece. A family reunion, yes?” His face hardens into steel. “This mess is caused by the Reverend.” He turns his angry eyes on the girl in Silas’s arms. “And her father.” He waves and his men leave. “You might have fooled the Reverend, Silas Mathis, but you have not fooled me.” Ezequiel walks away and leaves us alone in the dark.

  Silas places the girl on a small bed in the corner of the cell before he turns to me and takes my hand. He pulls me into his arms and wraps his other arm around my shoulders—holding me tightly. I feel him kiss the top of my head. “Sit on the bed with the girl. I think she’s waking up. I want us together in here.” He keeps hold of me until my legs touch the frame of the bed.

  Crouching down, I’m surprised when a small light appears. “They forgot to take your phone?”

  “Yes, but it does us no good down here, other than the light.” He moves it slightly, so it doesn’t blind the girl. She’s slowly starting to wake up.

  The moment the girl becomes fully awake, she gasps and backs away into the corner, her knees up in front of her.

  “We’re not going to hurt you.” I reach out, but she curls further in on herself. “I’m in the cell with you. I’m Wren, and this is my uncle, Silas. We’re together in this.”

  She watches us closely, her eyes nervously sliding between us. “How did I get here?” She frowns. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in Port Michael.”

  She shakes her head. “I do not know where that is.”

  “Where are you from?” I try a different route to find out how
far she’s travelled.

  “Mexico.” She licks her lips, and continues, “Mexico City. I was visiting my abuela at the Panteón Español Cemetery. They killed my bodyguards.” She sniffles. “They killed them.”

  “What’s your name?” Silas asks.

  “Maria Rosa Suarez.”

  Silas moves closer, cursing. “Your father is known for being untouchable. He works for Interpol’s NCB?”

  Maria nods, but I’m confused. “What is that?”

  “National Central Bureau. They go after anything illicit—drugs, money laundering, trafficking.” Silas goes silent, and mumbles, “So, why would Ezequiel kidnap you?”

  “I do not know. I don’t know about my father’s work. Nothing.”

  “They’re trying to get to him. Make him touchable.” As soon as he says that, his phone goes dead. “Fuck.”

  43

  RAFAEL

  JEREMIAH SLIPS into the kitchen as silently as a ghost. Neither Dad nor I heard him approach. The man is sweating and disheveled and whatever news he has for us has put a frown on his face. He drinks down a full bottle of water before he says, “We have no idea where Silas and Wren are.”

  “What?”

  “Hear me out.” He waits before continuing, “The GPS tracker in Silas’s phone worked fine up to what we presume was a drop off/pick up point outside of town at a small jetty. Nothing there apart from that. The tracker was disabled at that point. The cell last pinged when he used it on his way back to town. Nothing since. They’ve just vanished, but we’ll find them.”

  “I need to have your confidence, because right now I’m scared something has happened to her.” I run my fingers through my hair as fear wells inside of me.

  “Silas won’t let anything happen to her. You know that, right?” Dad says, squeezing my arm before moving to the table.

  “Let me show you the tunnels. I was about to try and match them to an actual map, see if we can work out where the left tunnel comes out.” Dad gets engrossed with Jeremiah, discussing distances and theories.