Her Winter of Darkness

by Melinda Woodhall

  Walking straight to Nessa’s office, Peyton knew she should tell the police chief what Ruby had said about Diablo. If there was some kind of connection between the department and the traffickers they were investigating, the chief needed to know.

  But when she got to the chief’s office, Nessa wasn’t alone. State prosecutor Riley Odell sat across from the police chief. Both women seemed tense as they turned to see Peyton standing in the doorway.

  Nessa looked up and waved Peyton into the room.

  “Come on in. We could use a break from…this.”

  Gesturing toward the papers and folders spread out on her desk, Nessa sighed as Riley nodded toward the chair next to her.

  “Yes, please tell us something that will take our minds off this motion to dismiss. We need to clear our heads before meeting with Judge Eldredge.”

  The prosecutor offered Peyton a smile, taking off her glasses and tucking a glossy strand of dark hair behind one ear.

  Peyton glanced down at the desk, her eyes falling on a familiar name on one of the folders. Nick Sargent’s case had been going on for months, and it had taken up much of Nessa’s time.

  “Still trying to tie up the Sargent case?” Peyton asked, finding herself stalling for time. “I thought it was pretty much airtight.”

  “Judge Eldredge doesn’t see it that way,” Riley said with a grimace. “He’s considering a motion to delay the trial again. It seems Sargent can’t find a lawyer to take on his case in Willow Bay after all the sensationalized press coverage of recent events, as he puts it.”

  Turning to Peyton, Nessa took a cleansing breath.

  “Enough about Nick Sargent for now, I want to hear what you found out from Ruby Chase. Any luck? She tell you anything useful?”

  Peyton shook her head, then swallowed hard. She glanced at Riley’s alert expression and felt her heart drop. How could she tell Nessa that Ruby had implicated her department in a trafficking scheme while sitting in front of the state prosecutor?

  “Ruby Chase is coming down hard off whatever she’s been on,” she heard herself say. “I think she’s gonna need rehab before we can get anything useful out of her.”

  Considering Peyton’s words, Nessa hesitated, then turned to Riley with a thoughtful frown.

  “We’ve got an eighteen-year-old girl in custody who was picked up for shoplifting,” Nessa explained. “When we found narcotics on her, she claimed to be a victim of some sort of trafficking gang. Says they’re using girls to transport drugs.”

  “And you’re thinking she could be a potential informant?” Riley’s eyes lit up with interest. “Or maybe even a witness if we ever get this group into court?”

  Nessa nodded.

  “Trouble is, she’s clearly an addict, so we’re not sure how reliable her story is, or how convincing she’d be as a potential witness.”

  “Maybe if we get her some help, she’ll be able to tell us more,” Peyton said, pushing Ruby’s comment about Diablo having connections with the police force to the back of her mind.

  Peyton’s words seemed to please Riley, who nodded her approval.

  “Okay, I’m willing to give it a try,” Nessa agreed. “As long as she goes into a facility in the area where we can keep tabs on her. I just don’t know how quickly she could get in somewhere.”

  Frankie Dawson’s face drifted through Peyton’s mind for the second time that day.

  “Leave it to me, Chief. I think I know somebody who can help.”

  Chapter Five

  The lobby at Hope House was quiet as Frankie Dawson pushed through the front door. He rubbed his hands together with a relieved sigh, grateful to be inside the warm building after his brisk walk through the chilly afternoon.

  A slim black woman in a pink suit crossed the lobby, greeting him with a wide smile. The Hope House name badge that hung around her neck identified her as Dr. Regina Horn.

  “I appreciate this, Doc. You’re a real pal.”

  Frankie looked around the room, hoping in vain to see Peyton Bell’s dark hair and bright eyes coming toward him.

  “I’d say you’re the real pal, Frankie.” Reggie arched an eyebrow. “And Peyton’s lucky to have a friend like you. Not many people would drop an important case to do a friend a favor.”

  A flush of heat worked its way up Frankie’s neck at her words, and he wondered if it was obvious to everyone that he had fallen hard for Willow Bay’s newest detective.

  I’m making an idiot out of myself in front of the whole damn town.

  Reggie’s phone began to buzz in her pocket, saving Frankie from having to respond to her comment. He only hoped Reggie wouldn’t tell Pete Barker about him skipping out on his latest assignment.

  The other half of Barker and Dawson Investigations thought he was still tailing Garth Bixby around town. They’d been hired to collect evidence that the sleazy political aide had been cheating on his wife.

  If Reggie tells Pete I was here, he’ll go batshit. But how could I say no?

  Frankie turned to look out the window with forlorn eyes. He’d been wanting to ask Peyton out on a real date for months, but every time they talked, she just went on about what a nice guy he was and what a good friend he’d been.

  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to get the message she’s trying to send. Peyton likes me all right, but only as a friend.

  Part of him wished he could just forget her all together. And who would blame him? After all, Peyton had been partly responsible for him going to prison. And it was no thanks to her that he was walking around a free man.

  The girl ran off to Memphis leaving me to rot in jail.

  Scratching at the stubble on his chin, Frankie tried to block out the negative thoughts. After all, Peyton had tried to make amends, and she needed him, if only to keep her company at her AA meetings.

  He stared out the window at the gloomy sky like a lovesick teenager, not noticing that Peyton had come up behind him until she tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Thanks for setting this up, Frankie. I really appreciate it.”

  He shrugged off her words and sighed.

  “I know…I know. I’m a really good friend.”

  Frankie’s self-pity evaporated when he saw the girl standing behind Peyton. Her glassy eyes and pale, waxy skin told him she was the girl Peyton was trying to help.

  “How you doing, Ruby?”

  The girl didn’t seem to register his greeting as she stared around the room. Peyton raised her eyes to his, and he had to force himself to look away as Reggie’s voice sounded beside him.

  “Peyton, good to see you. And this must be Ruby.”

  Introducing herself in a reassuring tone, Reggie led Ruby across the lobby, motioning to an alcove furnished with several comfortable looking chairs around a television.

  “Ruby, why don’t you have a seat while we get your room ready.”

  Frankie and Peyton watched as Reggie helped Ruby settle into a chair. She walked back to them with worried eyes.

  “Looks like she’s in for a hard time,” she said in a low voice. “Detox is never easy. It’ll take time before she’s in any kind of shape to give evidence or go through an interrogation.”

  “I understand,” Peyton said. “And I don’t plan on interrogating her, Dr. Horn. Nothing that combative. Once she’s feeling better, I just hope to talk to her about the men who gave her those drugs.”

  Glancing toward Ruby’s small figure, Frankie saw she had her eyes glued to the television, which was tuned to a special report on Channel Ten News.

  He recognized Veronica Lee’s long, dark hair, and moved closer to read the headline across the bottom of the screen.

  Human Trafficking Victims Face Intimidation and Threats.

  The reporter was conducting an interview, and as the camera panned to a young woman with her face in the shadows, Frankie strained to hear her response to Veronica’s question.

  “I’m still very scared, mainly for my family. They threatened to go after my whole family if
I didn’t do what they wanted. I tried-”

  Frankie blinked as the screen went dark, then turned to see Reggie holding up a remote, having silenced the rest of the woman’s words. Ruby was still staring at the blank screen, her kohl-rimmed eyes dark and sunken in her pale face.

  Clenching his hands into fists, Frankie felt the familiar rush of anger at the men who preyed on vulnerable women.

  Why do these bastards always target girls like Ruby…or like Franny?

  The image of his younger sister flashed through Frankie’s mind, adding a hot stab of pain and regret to his anger.

  “These scumbags are really starting to piss me off.”

  Peyton turned wide eyes to Frankie, startled by his outburst. She tried to put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off, embarrassed by her look of pity and tired of playing the fool.

  Avoiding Peyton’s eyes, Frankie dug in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a stick of gum. He tore off the wrapper and stuck the gum in his mouth. Chewing hard, he crossed to where Ruby sat and knelt in front of her chair.

  “Ruby?”

  He waited for her big, brown eyes to turn toward him.

  “My name’s Frankie Dawson, and I’m a private investigator. I wanna help Detective Bell find the lowlifes who were bothering you.”

  Doubt creased Ruby’s forehead, but she didn’t look away.

  “But we’re gonna need your help, and that means you have to go through detox. You gotta stay here until you’re clean.”

  Past experience with addicts had taught Frankie it was unlikely the girl would stay once things got tough. The urge to use again would be too much. The need for relief would be too strong.

  She might even run back to the men who’d abused her if she thought they’d supply her with drugs she couldn’t get elsewhere.

  “You gotta promise me, Ruby,” Frankie said. “You don’t know me from Adam, but I know you. I know you want to get better, and I’m gonna help you. And Reggie and Detective Bell are gonna help you.”

  “But what about Diablo? What if he finds me?”

  Wrapping her thin arms around herself, Ruby began to rock slowly back and forth, her eyes darting around the room.

  “Who’s Diablo? Is he one of the guys we’re looking for?”

  Ruby nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on Frankie as he stood and looked toward Peyton.

  “Supposedly, Diablo’s the leader,” Peyton murmured beside him. “According to her, all the girls were scared of him. They claim the guy has important connections in Willow Bay.”

  He paused at Peyton’s choice of words.

  Supposedly…according to her…they claim…

  Running a frustrated hand through his shaggy hair, he wondered what chance Ruby would have if the people trying to help her didn’t even believe her?

  “She’s not making this shit up, Peyton.” Frankie swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice down. “You may not want to believe it, but I think she’s telling the truth, and that we’re gonna need her to catch these guys.”

  “We?” Peyton’s eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking you’re going to be involved in the investigation?”

  Frankie didn’t answer as Reggie held up a hand.

  “Ruby’s room is ready. We need to get her into the back now, so you guys will have to finish this conversation later.”

  “Oh, I think the conversation is over.”

  Frankie’s voice was hard, but it softened as he turned to Ruby.

  “Remember what I said, Ruby. Stay here and get clean. You’ve got people who will help you, but first you gotta help yourself.”

  He was almost glad to see her roll her eyes at his words like any typical teenager would. She was just a kid really, and unlike Franny, she still had a chance.

  Waiting until Ruby had disappeared into the back with Reggie, Frankie headed toward the door, suddenly anxious to get back on Garth Bixby’s trail before Barker found out he’d been slacking off.

  “Wait, Frankie!”

  He swung around to see Peyton hurrying after him.

  “I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I think-”

  “I know what you think, Peyton,” Frankie said, unable to hold back his anger. “You think I’m just some dumb PI that you can call when you want something and then kick to the curb once you got whatever the hell it was you wanted.”

  Frankie hooked a thumb toward the door before she could reply.

  “Now I have an important case going on, so if you’re done with me, I’ll get back to it.”

  “That’s not fair,” Peyton protested, following him out onto the sidewalk. “You know I appreciate your help, but the investigation is already being handled by the task force.”

  Stopping at her words, he shook his head.

  “What task force?”

  “The FBI is running a joint task force with our department,” she admitted. “It isn’t my place to bring anyone outside into the case.”

  The buzz of the phone in Frankie’s pocket reminded him again that he should be working. Barker was probably looking for him.

  “The feds, huh?” he said, the anger in his voice fading. “Good. I’m glad. I just hope they hurry up and catch these scumbags before they find out Ruby’s here.”

  Peyton didn’t call after him as he again turned and headed toward downtown. The afternoon chill had deepened, and Frankie pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears as he walked, trying to keep warm, and trying to clear all thoughts of Peyton, Ruby, and even poor Franny from his mind.

  He was tired of thinking, and tired of a world where scared young girls were abused and left to die.

  Chapter Six

  Skylar washed the last of the lunch dishes and began to sweep the kitchen floor, trying to block out the angry ranting coming from the Professor’s study. He’d been on his computer most of the day, stopping only to swallow down a sandwich and a glass of milk before he’d returned to his desk.

  His foul mood hadn’t improved since the previous day when he’d burst into the safe room to accuse her of helping Astrid escape, his fisted hands sticky with blood as he’d stood trembling over her.

  “See what your treachery has caused, girl!”

  Unable to remember exactly what had happened next, Skylar suddenly wasn’t sure his furious arrival had been real after all; maybe it had been another one of her terrifying dreams.

  She’d woken this morning to the Professor’s angry voice at the hatch, yelling at her to come up and bring in wood for the stove. She had seen that Astrid wasn’t in her bed, and that the food she’d brought down for her the day before was untouched.

  Not daring to ask the Professor where Astrid had gone, or if she would be back, Skylar had gone about her usual chores, avoiding the Professor and his thunderous mood as much as possible.

  Looking through the bars on the kitchen window, Skylar saw that yesterday’s storm had left behind a smooth layer of fresh snow. The white lawn was undisturbed other than a single trail of footprints leading from the back porch to the big barn where the Professor parked his truck and kept his tools.

  As she stared toward the big wooden building, an image flashed into Skylar’s mind. The barn door was open, and vivid smears of blood stained a path through the white snow leading into the dark shadows beyond.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Skylar breathed in deeply, tempted to find refuge in the only place she was truly safe. The only place where the Professor couldn’t find her.

  The safe room in her mind had offered a way out in the past, but it had also caused her to forget. Skylar had lost long stretches of time hiding there; she feared that one day she might not be able to find her way out.

  I need to find out what happened to Astrid. I need to know if she ended up like all the others. There were others, weren’t there?

  Memories struggled to the surface. Skylar pictured the frightened face of the young woman who had been brought to the safe room only days before Astrid had arrived.

  The tiny blonde woman had seemed we
ak, maybe even ill, but she’d somehow found the strength to attack the Professor without warning, managing to knock him off the ladder and climb past him.

  That woman had gotten as far as the locked front door before the Professor caught up to her. Instead of dragging her back downstairs as Skylar had expected, he’d unlocked the door.

  “You want to go outside, girl? Then go on.”

  He’d shoved the woman onto the porch, watching with grim, hard eyes as she had started to run through the wide, snow covered yard before lunging at the gate leading out to the world beyond.

  “Get back in the safe room,” the Professor had ordered Skylar, crossing to his study where the big gunrack hung on the wall. “Stay there until I come for you.”

  The gunshot had sounded before Skylar made it to the hatch. Creeping on shaky legs to peer through the bars on the front window, she’d seen the woman sprawled on the ground beside the fence, her open, unseeing eyes turned up to the endless sky.

  Those eyes had stayed with Skylar, merging with shadowy images of the other women who had come and gone in years past. Images that haunted her dreams, but which often eluded her waking memory no matter how hard she tried to conjure them.

  A creak of the floorboard behind Skylar snapped her back to the present moment. The Professor was standing behind her, his face red from exertion, and his eyes narrowed.

  “Go down to the safe room. I’m going on a trip.”

  Questions rose in her mind, but Skylar knew better than to open her mouth. Anything she said would be treated with suspicion. If she dared ask where he was going, or when he would return, the Professor would assume she wanted the information to help her escape. He trusted no one and gave nothing away.

  Walking toward the study, Skylar felt a sudden impulse to make a break for the front door. She could grab one of the guns on the rack. Maybe bring it down over the Professor’s head and take the heavy set of keys on his belt. One of those keys opened the lock on the big gate. She could be outside the compound within minutes.