by Jenny Lynn
It was a swift drive, moving away from the main strip towards the rental where Ella spent her nights when she wasn’t with me. I hated that run-down place, but she wouldn’t let me pay for something nicer. I respected her for that and didn’t push her on it. I knew her independence was important to her.
I parked in the back, then kept my helmet on as I slipped around the front and into the building. I had given Ella a keycard to access my penthouse, and even though I had never been in her place, as a reciprocating gesture she had given me a copy of her keys. It didn’t matter. I would have broken down her front door if I needed to, nothing would stop me right now from finding answers.
I took the stairs two at a time, then slipped the key into the lock for her unit. Inside it was dark, I shut the door behind me then popped on the lights. It was my first time seeing Ella’s home, and I genuinely wished it had been under different circumstances.
The space was clean, minimal, functional. Purely Ella. I walked through the tiny kitchen, there was a glass in the sink and a couple of bananas left out on the counter that were speckled brown. Inside the fridge there was a half empty bottle of wine and a box of pizza, otherwise it was empty. There was a drawer full of take out menus, I flipped through them, but nothing caught my eye.
The living room had just enough space for a couch and TV, nothing else. A grey wool sweater was draped over the back of the couch. I picked it up and held it against my face, nuzzling the soft fabric and breathing in deeply. It smelled like Ella and made my broken heart squeeze painfully in my chest. I wanted to hold her right now, I wanted to reach through the distance that separated us, to tell her that everything would be okay. I wanted to tell Ella I was coming to get her - wherever she was.
I folded the sweater and placed it down, checking the bathroom. Nothing helpful there either, nothing in the garbage other than a few discarded tissues. Come on Ella, give me something to work with. The only room left was her bedroom. It was tidy and minimalist, just like the rest of her space. A small cactus sat on a dresser by the window, her bed was made, a book lying face down on the pillow. I picked it up, it was a copy of Double Indemnity. She had mentioned to me last time we were together that she was into reading mysteries lately.
Her closet was orderly. Ella’s luggage was sitting at the bottom; if she had left of her own free will, she would have packed. I was coming up empty. I walked quickly towards the window, the urge to scream in frustration building up inside me. Then something caught my eye - there was an envelope on her dresser.
I picked it up and pulled out a sheet of paper, my blood chilling as I read the words. It seemed someone had contacted Ella about her sister. Damnit, if it was a trap, they had used the perfect bait. Anyone could have sent this, but only one person seemed a likely suspect to have orchestrated it. I gripped the note tight and shoved it into my jacket, rushing out of her apartment. As I locked up, I heard a noise to my left.
“Who are you?” demanded a feminine voice. I froze. Luckily I was once again wearing my motorcycle helmet. I turned to face a tall, attractive woman who was standing in the next doorway. Ella’s neighbour.
“I’m a friend of Ella’s,” I said matter of factly. The woman looked from the key in my hand to my helmet, squinting to try and see my face through the dark visor.
“Are you her boyfriend?”
There was no sense lying to her, she seemed to know personal details about Ella’s life that she wouldn’t know unless Ella had told her. I nodded slowly.
“She told me about you.” The woman took a step closer. “Not your name or anything, Mister Mysterious, but she seems really happy lately. Is she staying with you? She didn’t come home.”
I needed to come clean about the situation, maybe Ella’s neighbor could help me. “She’s missing. I’m trying to find her.”
The woman’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes went wide.
“Missing? Oh my god, is she okay?”
“I don’t know. Can you tell me anything that might help?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, um, she told me someone contacted her about her sister Dana. She was in a rush, we didn’t get to talk about it. That’s the last time I saw her. Maybe she found Dana, maybe they’re catching up. Maybe…”
“Maybe someone tried to lure her into a trap.”
“The police. We need to call the police.” The woman pulled a cell phone out of her pocket.
“You do that. In the meantime, I’m going to see what I can find. I have my ways.”
“Do you think whoever took her wants a ransom? I don’t have much, but I want to help. I have savings...”
I felt a surge of gratitude towards this stranger. Ella thought she was alone in this world, but clearly people cared about her. She had friends. She had me. And we wanted her found. “That’s very kind of you Reya, but I don’t think this is about ransom.”
She blinked. “You know my name?”
I smiled, not that she could see it through the helmet. “Ella told you about me, and she told me about you.” I started to walk away. She had nothing else that would help me, and every second counted right now.
“You know my name, but I don’t know who you are,” she called after me.
“That’s not important,” I told her as I descended the stairs. “What’s important right now is finding Ella. Make the call to the police, file a missing person report. The more people who are looking for her, the better our chances of finding her.”
I pushed out the building entrance, back outside, and went around back to my bike. I hopped on, started the engine, and took off. There was one more stop I could make, one more person that could help me. I needed his help now - there was no way around it. I drove to an area that was under development, an old abandoned building that was set to be demolished. I took out my cell and made a quick call, telling him where he could find me and stressed that it was urgent. He confirmed he would be here in ten minutes, alone. I took off my helmet but left on my mask, standing in the middle of the room.
The building smelled like dust and rotten wood. The wood creaked and was warped in places under my feet. This place was once an arcade, there were a few busted old games dotting the room that had been abandoned, while the others had likely been sold off in an auction. I walked towards a tall Pac Man game, the side covered in graffiti and the screen busted open. When I heard footsteps I turned my head towards the entrance.
“Nice place you picked,” Frank Berkley said as he looked around the space.
“It’s isolated, I wanted privacy.”
“So what problem has you calling the Chief of Police?” Frank asked, running a finger through the dust on a counter.
I took the pages out of my jacket.
“Ella James, a local crime reporter, is missing. Tony Venetti has made threats against her life, now she’s gone. She’s not in any database; hospital, police, or the morgue. I’m out of leads.”
Frank arched his bushy eyebrows. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just admit you accessed our secure police server.”
I turned to face him, handing over the letter I found in Ella’s room.
“Do you have anything, even a hunch?”
Frank looked from me to the papers, reading them.
“Who is this girl to you?” he asked. I froze, grateful for the mask hiding the concern on my face. But the seasoned police veteran didn’t need to see my face, my silence told him everything. He let it slide.
“The sister, Dana. What do you know about her?” he continued.
“I know she worked as an escort, that she came to Vegas, then she went missing. No body, no trail. Nothing.”
“Mmmhmm,” Frank nodded. “Look, anything I tell you right now will just be speculation. I could be sending you on a wild goose chase.”
“I have nothing. Anything you could give me is better than nothing.”
Frank handed me the paper, I placed it back in my jacket.
“There has been a problem for years now,
girls go missing, prostitutes, mostly, but not always. They vanish into thin air. We’ve tracked a few of their images on the dark web, but it’s not good, I’m warning you.”
I stepped closer, my fists clenched at my side. If they touch Ella, if they hurt her in any way...
“Tell me what you know.”
Frank watched my body language closely. “Now, I don’t know if it’s what happened to this Dana girl. And Ella doesn’t seem to fit the profile, a reporter instead of a working girl. But some of these women who go missing, there’s an auction. We’ve never been able to access or track it. They sell these girls, then they’re never seen again. They’re bought and sold like property. I desperately want to crack this - it haunts me, it has for years.”
My heart dropped. If this is where Ella was, it meant she was alive. But it also meant I had a limited window of time before she ended up who knows where, with who knows what kind of person.
“Do you know anything about this group? How do I find them?”
“Their data is heavily encrypted, dark web, untraceable and by invitation only to high rollers. They only post hours before it goes live, we’ve never been able to force our way in, or get access for our undercover agents. They’re called the Butterfly Collectors. That’s all I know.”
“I need to go.” I started to walk past, but Frank’s hand landed heavily on my arm. I stopped and turned my head to look at him.
“Off the record - if you get to them, shut this shit down, by any means necessary.”
“If they touched her, they’re over. If she’s not there, I’ll still give you anything I find so you can try to save those women.”
Frank nodded, fire burning in his eyes framed with light wrinkles. The things this man must have seen during his time on the force. The constant battle against criminals. The nagging regret of the ones that got away. The rage. We understood each other, he and I.
I headed back out into the night, onto my bike then I sped back home. This could be a dead end, Tony could be holding her captive and torturing her somewhere. But this was something to look into, it was tied to her missing sister Dana, which made it relevant. If this led nowhere, next stop I made - I was going straight for Tony, and I would break every bone in his body to get him to talk.
I let my bike fall to its side in my rush to the elevator, back upstairs, yanking open my jacket and ripping the mask from my face. Back to my laptop, I started to wade through the demented and lawless corners of the dark web. I had been here before, part of my research. This place was home to the most despicable aspects of humanity, where filth gathered and communicated in the shadows. Drugs, women, children, torture. This segment of humanity, if they can even be considered human anymore, deserved to be wiped off the face of the earth.
Butterfly Collectors finally brought me to a simple landing page with a clock; it had thirty-two minutes remaining, and it was steadily counting down. To what, I didn’t know. There was an entry form for new member registration. I didn’t want to connect my real identity with this group, it could completely ruin my reputation, but it looked like I had no choice.
A pseudonym wouldn’t work. To join I needed to input my name, address, phone number, a photo of my passport, and pay a non-refundable membership fee of $50,000. Then, and only if I was approved, would I get access to the auction. There was no way of knowing if they had Ella, like Frank said this could be a dead end. But if there was a chance, no matter how slim, I needed to take it. I was grasping at straws and I knew that.
I put in my information. I wired the secure account money from my bank. Then, feeling sick over the type of people I had just sent funding to, I poured myself a double scotch to dull the overwhelming sense of revulsion. My phone rang and I snatched it up.
“Hello?”
“Is this Beckett Carter?” a distorted voice came from the other end, disguised.
“Yes, this is he,” I answered with as calm a tone as I could manage.
“What is your interest in our collection?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to think on my feet, and I only had one chance to convince them. One chance to get it right.
“I’m a wealthy man. I have certain needs that people might find… unconventional, and I’m interested in seeing if there is anything in your collection that I would like to own. I’ve been told you would have what I want - but if I’ve misinformed, I’ll have to look elsewhere.”
There was silence.
“The available merchandise will be displayed in twenty-three minutes. An address will be sent to you by text. You will come alone to the live auction tonight. If you place a winning bid this evening, you will be expected to pay immediately.”
There was a click and the line went dead. I froze, stunned, listening to the dial tone before finally placing my phone down. I was out $50,000 but at the very least I would have some information to give to Frank about this group and how they operated.
I refilled my glass, drinking as I watched the clock count down. I didn’t know what I expected to see, but apparently I would see it soon. The scotch mixed with the unease coursing through my blood, doing nothing to calm me down as I hoped it would. Two minutes to go on the count down now. I held my glass, watched the screen. Would it be better to not see Ella at all? Or was I hoping for some sign of her? I didn’t know which would be worse.
One minute.
There was no way they took her. She wouldn’t be there. Tony didn’t operate this way, he was deeply involved in vice, but he was trying to intimidate Ella. Kill her, I wouldn't put it past him. But sell her into sex slavery? It’s not something I think he had ever done before, but could I really put it past that sick fuck? After I was able to see all of the women they had captured and confirmed Ella wasn’t among them, I would head straight for Tony. And I would go armed.
The timer was up. The screen changed, nine images immediately popping up in a row with numbers. My eyes quickly whipped over the miserable faces in their plain dresses until a strangled cry escaped my throat.
Number six.
I squeezed the glass so tight it shattered in my hand, cutting open my palm, sending liquor spilling onto my couch. Ella. It was Ella, staring with frightened eyes into a camera. My Ella. They had her.
My phone vibrated and I snatched it up. It was an address. I had no plan, oh God, I needed a plan. I needed to rescue her. Did I burst in as the Phantom? What if they reacted by killing the girls and scattering like cockroaches? They had my real name, I signed up. I had no choice - I needed to go as Beckett Carter. That was the only way. I would go, and I would buy back Ella, no matter the cost. I would spend every cent to my name if that’s what it took.
I rushed into my room, quickly changed into a suit, and bandaged my injured hand. I needed to dress the part, walk in as if I was the kind of man who bought whatever he wanted, including human lives. I needed to hide my anger, hide my disgust. Tonight I had to camouflage myself as something despicable in order to save the woman I loved.
Ella, don’t worry. I’m coming for you.
15
Ella
It’s strange, our capacity to adapt. There was a stark transformation that had taken place in me from the first moment I woke up in this hell, to now. I had somehow moved past panic and horror to something else. Not acceptance, never that. Instead, I was calm and determined. Whatever happened, whatever they did to me, they were not going to break me. I would be strong, stronger than I ever thought I could be, and I would survive this. Then, I would find a way to save the other women. Every last one of them.
Caroline was sleeping - I envied her ability to get some sort of rest in this dank cell. To sleep would mean I could escape the reality of this living nightmare for a little while, but even though I was exhausted and drifted off every now and then, I couldn’t stay asleep. Each time, I jolted awake in a panic, unable to keep my eyes closed.
I ran my fingers along the brick wall, tracing the grooves and feeling the rough gritty texture beneath my fingertips
. Did they use this place before, or was this the first time? If they used this place before, how many poor souls had been trapped by these same walls? Had Dana been here? And where would we all end up?
“Ella, are you awake?”
Caroline’s voice made me turn my head against the mattress and look over at her.
“Yes, I am.”
“I wanted to tell you something, just in case you get out of this somehow and I don’t. I want you to know my last name. It’s Kingston. My name is Caroline Kingston. I don’t know, neither of us are probably getting out of this. But if you do, could you please find my family and let them know what happened to me?”
“Of course.” I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “And if you get out, my name is Ella James. Although, I guess you can’t tell my parents. They died when I was young... and I don’t have any family left.”
“What about your boyfriend? I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”
I bit my lip to keep back the tears. I wouldn’t cry. I needed to be strong.
“I’m going to see him again,” I said, for myself more than for her. “I’m going to find a way.”
There was the sharp sound of metal scraping as the bolt was pulled back and the door opened. Caroline and I both shot up and sat straight on our mattresses, facing the door. The short man and his bodyguard were standing there. I didn’t think it was humanly possible to hate someone as much as I hated him.
“It’s time,” he told us. “Get up and follow me.”
Caroline stood, but I remained seated on the mattress. I hated this room, this cell. But I knew that staying here had to be better than whatever came next. Short man glared at me.
“There are two ways this can go,” he said in a clipped tone. “You can walk, or you can be dragged. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. Either way you’re leaving this fucking room.”
I weighed my options, but not for long. The big man stepped into the room. I didn’t want him to touch me, I didn’t want anyone to touch me, so I gave in and stood. I followed them out into the hallway, where other guards were watching over girls stepping out of their locked rooms. There were a number of us now, looking around like scared animals, outnumbered by guards with no hope of escape.