Complete Mia Kazmaroff

by Kiernan-Susan Lewis

  She felt soiled.

  When Carino asked her to help the other women with the housecleaning, she agreed. She rarely spoke with them. They were always leaving or upstairs sleeping. She needed to feel useful. She constantly asked Carino when she would be able to leave. When he was going to help her find her brother, José.

  The day Carino came home drunk, there were many people in the house. She caught his eye over the heads of his friends—so many of them!—and they were drunk and scared her.

  He came to her, bringing two of his friends with him. She had never seen Carino like this. His face was a mask tonight, not the caring face she knew him by. His friends were both gringoes and drunk. She noticed they did not look at her as they stood flanking Carino.

  “This is the lovely Maria,” Carino said loudly, sweeping an arm in her direction.

  “Good evening,” Maria said carefully.

  “Will this spicy piece work for you gentlemen?” Carino asked his friends. Maria had no clear understanding of his words but the minute he spoke them, the two men looked at her as a hungry wolf looks at a lamb. Carino’s meaning was then very clear. She took a step backward but Carino leaned forward and grabbed her arm, pinching it hard in his hand.

  “Come back here, chica,” he said, his face snarled into a visage of disgust. “You need to go along now with…” He turned to one of them. “One at a time?” he asked.

  The man nodded. “I ain’t doing sloppy seconds.”

  “One at a time it is,” Carino said shoving Maria in the direction of the bedroom. She wrenched her arm from him and took two steps away but he reached out as if he’d been expecting it and slapped her across the face.

  She gasped and grabbed her cheek, looking at Carino in horror, and then at the two men who were watching, neither amused nor bothered by what had just happened.

  “Either here on the couch, Maria,” Carino said in a low voice, “in front of everyone or in the privacy of your bedroom. Your call.”

  “Why…are you doing this?” Maria stuttered, her eyes going now to the largest of the men who had clearly determined he was first in line and moving toward her.

  Carino ignored her. “Up to you, gents. Bend her over the couch or take her in back. The price is the same.”

  Maria watched in horror as the larger man nodded his head toward the bedroom as he began unbuckling his belt. She turned and ran to the bedroom.

  *****

  It was a cold, bright Wednesday the morning Mia and Jack drove to the Atlanta Field Office of US Immigration and Citizenship on Parkland Avenue in Midtown. Their evening had been a somber one, spent in useless speculation and observations. With the new day, however, came new optimism. And when Jack suggested they should at least talk to the people who dealt with human trafficking on a daily basis, Mia agreed it was as good a starting point as any.

  The building that housed the Atlanta Field Office was modern and uninviting. Mia tried to imagine an alien hoping for citizenship in the US coming to this building and not feeling intimidated and discouraged. The massive, windowless structure was several stories high. They parked in the adjacent government parking lot and went through the security scanners that allowed them entrance to a streamlined, and unadorned lobby. A young man in his early thirties stood reading his smartphone by the corner of the first elevator. He looked up when Jack pressed the button at the elevator.

  “Detective Burton?” he said.

  Mia looked at Jack but she saw he was surprised too.

  “That’s right,” Jack said.

  The young man tucked his phone into the breast pocket of his overcoat and held out his hand. “I’m Trey Bowers. My chief told me you had a meeting with her this morning?”

  Jack shook the man’s hand. “Is Director Jameson not available after all?”

  Trey nodded at Mia, clearly feeling no need to shake her hand as well. “The chief thought I might be a better resource for you. Why don’t you follow me?” He turned and wove his way back through security and out the revolving door of the main entrance.

  Jack let out a sound of impatience but after a hesitation, he and Mia followed Bowers outside.

  “What’s this all about?” Jack asked when they were on the sidewalk. “Where are we going?”

  Bowers turned to him. “You’re interested in a specific case in human trafficking, am I right?”

  Jack looked at Mia. “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “Well, if it’s anything to do with real people in real trouble, the person you want to talk to is Liz Magnuson. She’s the head of AAMS. Ever hear of it?”

  Mia and Jack both shook their heads.

  “It stands for Atlantans Against Modern Slavery because, let’s face it, that’s what human trafficking is.”

  “May I ask what your title is?” Jack asked. Mia had to admit she was wondering the same thing.

  “I am the USICE Atlanta Field Office adjunct to Ms. Magnuson’s operation.”

  “So she’s officially recognized?”

  “Oh, no, not at all. But she does get things done and ICE recognizes that. She’s the one you should be talking to.”

  Mia noticed that Jack hesitated but what other option did they have?

  “Sure,” he said. “Lead on.”

  Liz Magnuson’s offices on Williams Street overlooked the alleyways where Confederate soldiers had once dragged cannons and armory wagons in their haste to escape Sherman’s advancing army. The building, though, only dated to the early nineteen hundreds. The offices of Atlantans Against Modern Slavery consisted of two small rooms. An anteroom the size of Mia’s miniscule dining room at her condo, and Ms. Magnuson’s office, most of which was taken up by a large, old-fashioned wooden desk.

  Liz Magnuson, herself was tall and rigid, her skin the color of mahogany, her eyes, dark and almond-shaped, missing little. She kept her hair shorn tight to her skull which accentuated her arresting looks. Mia noticed her smile was warm and genuine if a little sad.

  Liz Magnuson reached out to Mia first to shake her hand. “Welcome, Ms. Kazmaroff,” she said, her voice soft and Southern in Mia’s ears. When they shook hands, Mia felt the sadness in the woman reverberate up her arm. There was a lot of strength in her, Mia thought. But so much pain, too.

  “Thank you for seeing us, Ms. Magnuson,” Mia said.

  “Call me Liz, please,” she said as she shook Jack’s hand. “Please sit. Trey tells me you are trying to find someone.”

  Mia and Jack sat in two mismatched chairs jammed up against Liz Magnuson’s desk. Trey perched on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed, his attention once more on his smart phone.

  “Well,” Jack said. “We don’t have anything official yet…”

  “Then you are at the right place,” Liz said, smiling. “Welcome to the unofficial headquarters of the city’s vulnerable where we have no records, no direction, and, sadly, no justice.”

  “A man whom we believe was held prisoner in a labor ring north of the city was murdered in my home three nights ago,” Jack said.

  Mia watched Liz but her expression didn’t change. She must have heard so much worse by now.

  “He escaped them and was looking for his sister.”

  “She’s seventeen,” Mia added. “Neither speaks English. José said they were abducted a few weeks ago.”

  She watched Liz nod as if this was all very familiar to her.

  “And you are hoping to find this sister,” she said.

  “We promised him we would.”

  Trey stood up and moved to the anteroom. “I gotta take this,” he said, holding up his phone.

  Liz nodded at him as he closed the door between the two rooms. She turned and looked out the window. Mia saw a pigeon flutter by and settle on the ledge outside.

  “I love my city,” Liz said. “I was born here.”

  “Me, too,” Mia said. “But these days that’s rarer and rarer.”

  Liz looked at her and smiled. “Atlanta was recently named the United States capital for sexua
l exploitation. Did you know that?”

  Mia shook her head.

  “We are now the number one hub of human trafficking and child sex exploitation in the country.”

  “That’s terrible,” Mia murmured.

  “Do you know what it is I do?” Ms. Magnuson smiled at them as if to belie the coldness of her words. “I work outside the law—not in tandem with them—to find jobs for rescued sex workers. I beg favors from Catholic Charities and Trey’s agency to help them and the laborers stay in the country after they’re rescued. I organize food drives and panhandle for gently-used clothing so that the girls—some of them only in their teens—can try to find jobs.”

  Liz picked up a stack of file folders and straightened them into piles. “I work nights in the living room of my apartment in Decatur teaching Hispanic children English and their mothers how to type or sew. I shame the members of my parish on a weekly basis to take in the homeless and rescued run-aways.” She laughed and turned to look at Mia and Jack. “Many of my friends avoid me now.”

  “I’m sorry to be another in a long line of people coming to you for help but we don’t know where else to go,” Mia said. “Can you help us?”

  Liz sighed heavily. “I don’t think I can, no,” she said. “This girl you search for could be anywhere—and there are hundreds just like her all over Atlanta and in the suburbs. Do you have a name?”

  “Maria.”

  Liz laughed. “An Hispanic girl named Maria?” She shook her head, her smile bitter and sad. “You can’t save her. But maybe you can help me save someone else. Would you do that?”

  Jack stood up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Magnuson,” he said. “You can count on our help another time, I promise you. But right now, we’re looking for Maria.”

  Mia felt a flush of gratitude and love pulse toward Jack.

  “I understand,” Liz said. “And I’ll be expecting to hear from you when you finally give up and resign yourself to doing what good you can.”

  An hour later, Jack and Mia sat on a park bench in Centennial Park. Mia peered into their fast food bag. “Well, that was depressing,” she said.

  “You can’t get discouraged this early in the investigation,” Jack said, taking a bite of his burger.

  “So this is normal?”

  He shrugged. “Some cases move quicker than others.”

  “Are you discouraged?”

  He shrugged again.

  “Okay, that is so not helpful. What’s our next move?”

  Jack wiped his mouth and looked out at the skyline of Atlanta. From where they sat, he could see all of Midtown and the main scrapers of downtown, too.

  “I called the number on the card that Joe Don gave us,” he said. “It was disconnected.”

  “So he just blew us off to get rid of us.”

  “Basically.”

  “Well, doesn’t that make you think something’s going on there?”

  Jack turned to look at her. “I’m sure something is going on there. But he’s right about it being private property. I don’t have a warrant or probable cause—”

  “José came from there and now he’s dead!”

  “Yeah, but we can’t make the connection.”

  “We could if we could get inside that chicken processing hut.”

  “We can’t get inside legally.”

  “So we break in?”

  “Mia, no. I’m saying we can’t get in. Period.”

  “I can’t believe you’re just going to sit here,” Mia said in frustration. Her phone vibrated on the bench next to her and Jack watched her eyes glance at the screen. And then smile.

  “Hey, you,” she said flirtatiously into the phone. She looked at Jack and then stood up and walked away to talk in private.

  Jack knew it was a private call. Hell, the picture that showed up on the phone screen of the big good-looking guy in a cowboy hat told him that. He tossed his burger back in the bag. The temperature was steadily dropping and the only people in the park looked like they lived here.

  This picnic was a stupid idea. He looked at his watch. They should get back to the condo. He stood up but Mia stubbornly kept her back to him.

  Was she giggling? What the hell is that all about?

  He grabbed up their used napkins and drink cups, along with her half-eaten burger, and stomped over to the nearest trash receptacle.

  Mia made sure she was far enough away that Jack couldn’t clearly hear her conversation but not so far away that he couldn’t hear she was enjoying it.

  “So, he did call,” Ned said on the other line. “I’m impressed, darling. You’ll have him totally wrapped before the first date.”

  “We’ll see. But he does seem nice. A rare occurrence in my world.”

  “Speaking of rare occurrences, I might have met someone myself.”

  “Ned, are you serious?”

  “Well, don’t act quite so flabbergasted, but yeah. I met him at the gym last night.”

  “How original.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t expect to have kids to have to explain to someday of how I met their father.”

  “You never know.”

  “I’m bringing him out to the barn.”

  “So soon?”

  “Better to find out sooner rather than later.”

  Mia laughed. “It’s probably a pretty good plan. Oh, hold on, I’m getting another call. Omigosh, Ned, it’s him! He’s calling me.”

  “Well, hang up and get in there, girl! Let me know what happens.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Mia accepted the incoming call and glanced at Jack who was energetically stuffing their sandwich trash into a garbage can too full to handle it.

  “Hey, Ben,” she said.

  “Hi, there yourself. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Not at all. I was just…nothing. I was just doing nothing.”

  “Well, I was hoping…that you might want to do nothing with me this evening. I mean, we don’t have to do nothing. We can grab dinner or a movie…whatever you want.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that. I’m so sorry I had to cancel on you last time.”

  “No worries. Things happen. Can I pick you up?”

  Mia hesitated. “Do you mind if we meet? I know it’s silly but I have a three-date rule. If you don’t turn out to be a serial killer by the third date, you can pick me up in your car.”

  He laughed. “I think that sounds extremely practical. And as the future dad of daughters I applaud you. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Same Starbucks as last time?”

  “Works for me. Say seven o’clock?”

  “See you then.”

  Mia disconnected and turned around to see Jack standing right behind her and in ear shot of her conversation and possibly even Ben’s.

  “Oh! You scared me. Why are you standing there?”

  “I wanted to tell you it’s getting late and we should leave.”

  She could tell he was annoyed which made her annoyed. What does he have to be grumpy about? And why take it out on me if he is?

  The close juxtaposition of Jack’s affect compared to Ben’s was startling. Ben was all relaxed and warm—even if he was a little first-date-nervous which was basically charming—and Jack was all glowery and uncommunicative. It occurred to her that it would be a major relief not to have to spend the evening with Jack tonight. She wouldn’t have to avoid him in the condo or indulge in forced politeness over what television show to watch.

  Let him have the whole place to himself to be bad tempered in.

  She was going out.

  And the thought of that put a smile on her face that stayed there all the way to the car.

  *****

  Son of a bitch!

  Jack stood at the living room window and watched Mia’s tail lights disappear into the night. He’d endured her mindless humming and annoyingly happy mood the rest of the afternoon while she prepped for her date. He knew he was acting like a jerk and he also knew he was powerless to behave an
y other way.

  He turned to go to his bedroom, pausing briefly in the hallway. He could see she’d left her bedroom door open. Hating himself every step that took him to her room, he stopped and looked in.

  Mia’s bedroom was definitely all-girl. The double bed was neatly made with a pale pink duvet cover and the pillows that sat on top looked like big-petaled flowers. Her dresser was neat, too. A silver-framed picture of her and her brother with their father and mother was front and center. Jack forced himself not to enter. Just looking somehow felt like a violation of her privacy.

  He walked back to his bedroom. Somewhere in the interminably long afternoon, he’d made up his mind that he’d have something to show her when she returned from her date tonight.

  Dear God, please let her return from her date tonight.

  He picked up his holster from where he’d tossed it on the bed and strapped it on, then shrugged into his blue jean jacket. Pulling open the top drawer of the dresser, he drew out his Glock Twenty-One and holstered it.

  Within minutes he was driving against Atlanta traffic on I-85 heading to Alpharetta. If this was a Friday, he mused, I’d be in standstill traffic about now. But nobody left the city on a Wednesday.

  Mia was right. They were at a roadblock in their investigation so they needed to go over the obstacles—if not right through them. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for back out at the chicken farm but he knew he wasn’t going to find it sitting in Mia’s condo.

  Probably end up arrested for trespassing, he thought. But it beat sitting home watching Netflix and waiting for the sound of Mia’s key in the lock.

  It was a long hike to the chicken farm from Shakerag but, in the end, Jack decided to park there and walk. He didn’t know any place to leave the car where it wouldn’t be noticed except at the horse barn. It was just before nine o’clock when he parked and began his trek on foot. He had to assume nobody would be working the night shift at the chicken processing plant and, aside from the requisite security guard, he figured the place should be quiet. As he retraced the trail he’d taken with Mia the day before, he tried to put her from his mind and focus on the task at hand.

  What he was doing was tricky, basically illegal, and downright dangerous. There were any number of things that could go very wrong, not the least of which was him getting shot by Joe Don or one of his men.