“Wait! I need to talk with you,” Laney called in an urgent whisper.
The girl’s eyes were wide with fear, but she paused, arms folded tightly across her chest. She cut a look back to the house behind her, then said, “Who are you? What do you want?” An accent. Eastern European. Maybe Russian. Or Kosovan, if Fatso could be believed.
Laney moved slowly towards her, one cautionary palm up to her. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just need to talk.”
The girl dashed another look back to the house, her lower lip tucked between her teeth, caught in indecision. “I cannot. I am sorry.”
Laney jumped in before she could leave. “I just need a little information. I’m looking for someone. I could really use your help. Please.”
Seemingly still weighing up her position, the girl shifted slightly to allow her focus to trail up the covered verandah to a point just behind her.
Laney followed her line of sight to a small security camera fixed to the corner of the house.
“Sit down and I’ll move out of range.”
The girl pensively perched on the top step and waited while Laney stepped back far enough that she figured she’d be out of shot.
“That far enough?”
The girl pretended not to notice. “I think so.”
“I’m looking for a girl named Katarina—Katarina Novak. Do you know her?”
The girl squeezed her eyes shut. As if the very name brought pain. An almost imperceptible nod.
“Is she here?”
The slightest shake of her head.
“Where is she?” Laney asked.
“Gone. She ran. They went and got her. Brought her back. But not here.”
Laney’s heart sank. If these people were even half as vicious as she suspected, she hated to think where Katarina was now. “So, where did they take her?”
“I don’t know. One of the other establishments, I think.”
“Which one?”
The girl checked the camera again. It had swiveled towards her. “Please, you must go. They’ll…”
“They’ll what? Kill me? They gotta catch me first.”
A flutter in her voice. “It is not you I that I worry about.” A quick glance at Laney. “I’m sorry.”
A noise from inside—the slam of a door. The girl gasped. “Someone is coming. You must go.”
“Where’s Katarina? I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
Panic flared in her eyes. She got up, pulled the kimono in around her, and went for the door.
Laney went to the side of the stairway. “Please!” she begged. “I just need to know where she is.”
Just as she opened the back door, the girl paused, cut a frightened look back at Laney and hissed, “Go back to your car. Wait there.”
Then she disappeared inside.
***
The Associate
“Do you recognize her?”
The Man had called him. Middle of the night again. Did this bastard think he had nothing else to do but be at his beck and call?
Just before calling he’d emailed a section of the security footage taken a short while ago.
Of course, he recognized her. She was the one he’d locked in the Cleveland house basement. The Man had to know that. Especially since he’d also seen the same footage of her breaking out, that arrogant look on her face as she’d flipped him the bird. He’d taken that personally, felt the insult down in his gut as if she’d assaulted him physically. Then he’d sat helplessly watching her escape.
He’d hoped that was the last he’d see of her. No such luck. He should have known she’d turn up again. But how the hell she’d found the place in Hyde Park?
Watching her now, he could see the determination in her expression as she stalked around the back of the Hyde Park address, skulking in the shadows, thinking no one could see her.
In a flat tone, he told the Man, “Yes, I know who she is.”
“Her arrival here is a consequence of your failings, my friend,” he said. “You are a slave to your emotions, my friend. This time, you must deal with her. Once and for all.”
Deal with her. The way he had dealt with Dijana? Or maybe even Katarina? He swallowed back the thought, praying that wasn’t the case.
“What do you suggest?” he asked, an edge of anger creeping into his voice.
“Use your initiative. Use the people you know,” the Man said and hung up.
How many had to suffer or die just to hide this despicable Man’s secrets?
But what could he do? He was caught in the jaws of the devil.
Given his few options, he hung up the phone and opened his contact list. The number was fifth from the bottom.
When the phone picked up, he asked for her by name. She’d know who he was. And she’d do exactly what he asked.
Such was the power of fear.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DAY THREE—12:07 AM—LANEY
It was only fifteen minutes but it felt like a lifetime. Laney had sat out in her car, eyes glued to the front door of the house when movement in the bushes at the side of the property caught her eye.
And there she was. Clearly recognizing the range of the security cameras, she moved far across to the hedged boundary, and disappeared. Next thing, the lower foliage in the hedge rustled, then parted, and the girl crawled through. Now she was wearing a black turtleneck sweater, jeans and sneakers, a puffer jacket pulled over the top. Probably why she’d taken so long. Head down, hands in pockets, she walked quickly down the street a few yards, then waved Laney over.
Laney started up the car, veered around the Jaguar, and cruised quietly down the street until she was alongside the girl. After a quick glance each way, the girl dashed over to the car. With one hand on the hood, she rounded the front and got into the passenger’s seat.
“Anyone see you?” Laney asked, glancing back.
The girl twisted in the seat, ducking and shifting, eyes fixed on the front of the house for some moments before relaxing. “I don’t think so.” Turning to Laney, she rubbed her upper arms of her jacket as if to warm them. “Drive.”
Laney fired up the engine and pulled out. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“What’s your name?”
At first, the girl seemed reluctant. Then she said, “Gordana is my name.”
Laney took the first right, meaning to circle and come back to the house. “What do you know about Katarina?”
“You will not find her here. They brought her here when she first came, but I have not seen her since she ran.”
“Who brought her here?”
“The man. I do not know his name. They call him Njerku. It means, the Stepfather. He has many businesses here. Also, back home. He is a very bad man. Please, you cannot stay here. It is dangerous.”
“Home being where?”
“Most of us are from Kosovo. Some from Bulgaria. Others from Russia. Njerku has many brothels across Kosovo, hundreds of women and girls stolen from their homes and forced to work in dreadful conditions. All of them fear for their lives. Or the lives of their families. That’s why they stay. Njerku tells them they must pay off debts he claims they owe. But none of the women can understand how they incurred such debts.”
“But why are you here? In America?”
“A new boss came to our city in Kosovo. It was becoming overcrowded, and Njerku saw more potential in America. He lures young women here from our country with the prospect of good jobs and big money, and safety. Every woman I have met has the same story. They believe they have a wonderful life ahead of them. They think they have left the corruption and danger behind. It’s not until we arrive that we discover we’re caught in the same trap that we were so desperate to escape.”
Checking the rear-view mirror and turning down yet another random street, Laney shook her head in disbelief. “That’s terrible. So, why don’t you go to the police? Why don’t you tell them what’s happening?”
Gordana let out a cyni
cal snort. “Because there is nothing the police will do. Njerku pays them well. He had many contacts here. And he has diplomatic immunity. So the police just send us back. The fortunate ones live to warn the rest of the consequences of trying to escape. The others…” She shrugged heavily. “We don’t see them again.”
“And this is how Katarina ended up here? She was lured by a job?” This was sounding remarkably like the story Wendy O’Dell’s mother had told her. “But how did she escape?”
“Katarina is very beautiful. One of her clients fell in love with her. He took her away, found her a job.” Gordana dropped her head in remorse and swiped a tear from her cheek.
“We were all so jealous of her. We thought she had escaped to the perfect life. But then, Njerku found out. He killed my friend Dijana just to find out where she was.” Tears welled in her eyes and slid down her face. “Please, if you find Katarina, tell her…wish her well for me. Tell her…tell her I am sorry. Turn right here. I have to get back before they miss me.”
“Do you have any idea where they would have taken her?”
“If she’s still alive? I have no idea.”
Laney turned back into the street and eased to a stop behind the Jaguar again.
“Just tell me somewhere. I gotta have a place to start. Please.”
Gordana scraped her teeth along her lower lip while she searched the quiet street. Her eyes flashed up to the house, then she quickly said, “Maybe they would have taken her to the North City Hotel club. It has an illegal casino where men come to gamble.”
“Where is this place?”
“It is very remote. It has a bar and gambling house. Maybe Katarina is there. Maybe not.” Suddenly, she swiveled around, peering back down the road. “I must go. I’m sorry I cannot tell you more. And they will start looking for me.” Gordana opened the car door and swung her legs out, pausing to regard Laney. “You are a good person. I may never see you again. Please careful.”
Laney reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Then help me. Stay in the car. Come with me,” said Laney. “You and I—we can bust this whole thing open, help those women in there.”
“Why would you do that? Why would you risk your life for people you don’t even know?”
“Because I know what it’s like to be in prison. I know what it’s like to leave your loved ones behind. Or would you prefer to go back? Keeping your mouth shut until you’re past your use-by date? And then ending up dead?”
Gordana shot a fevered look back at the house. Her ragged breaths and trembling hands radiated the terror racking her tiny frame.
She swung a determined look on Laney, steely resolve in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t die. Promise me that if there is any danger, that you’ll run.”
Laney blinked at her in surprise. “I promise I’ll do my damnedest.”
She pulled her legs in and slammed the door. “Then let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DAY THREE—1:16 AM—LANEY
Gordana had told Laney that they would have missed her by now.
“I was supposed to meet a client ten minutes ago,” she said, turning in her seat to scan the street behind them. “They send someone after us.”
“Did you tell anyone where you were going?”
“Never. I wouldn’t endanger another woman there. But they’ll be out looking for me.”
So Laney had snaked around the backstreets, up this way and across to the next, to avoid detection. After fifteen minutes and seeing nothing obvious in the rear-view mirror, Gordana visibly relaxed.
“Take the next left,” said Gordana. “We are close.”
They had come to an intersection where a street sign indicated they were entering the Boston neighborhood of Dorchester. As they drove, Laney let out a low whistle at the massive four-story houses on each side of the street, all recently renovated with front yards of clipped hedges and iron-railing fences.
“Njerku owns many properties here. That is how he makes most of his money.”
“In property?”
Gordana nodded. “He makes plenty with the casinos and girls, but in America, he found greater wealth in property development. But when he buys his properties, he has to make an income from them. If you leave a property empty for too long, drug addicts and homeless people move in, ruining it and dragging down the property prices. In a strange way, he is actually benefiting the neighborhoods he buys into.”
“And that’s why the police leave him alone.” Laney snorted at the irony of it. “How do you know all this? About the property development and such?”
Fidgeting with the zip of her jacket, Gordana dropped her head a moment. “You probably do not believe it, but I have a Master’s degree in city planning. I came here believing I would be contributing to the gentrification of districts around Boston.” A grim smile tweaked her lips back. “I suppose that is what I ended up doing. But not in the way that I had expected.”
“Don’t your parents wonder where you are?”
Again, she lent her attention to the clasp on her jacket, clipping it into place then unfastening it. “Each week, we are forced to write a letter to our loved ones, telling them how happy we are, that we have good jobs and are making money. The letters, of course, are all read before they leave the country.”
“That stinks,” Laney spat out. “What happens if the woman’s parents start asking questions? I know I would.”
“One girl called her mother on the telephone. Njerku beat her to death in front of us. I heard he had her family killed.” As if to wipe out the memory, she switched her attention to the side window, watching the passing houses bathed in the yellow glow of the streetlights. “No one tried to call their parents after that.”
“What a bastard,” said Laney, hardening her eyes on the road ahead.
“Slow down. We’re almost here.”
“Where?”
“Turn right down there,” she said, pointing. “It’s that big place down there.”
Sure enough, an enormous four-story house loomed into view. Much like the one they had just left, it was a large Victorian home, ivy trailing up the south wall, black turrets and circular extensions to the upper-level stories, a broad balcony across the front.
Gordana folded her arms tightly over her chest and shivered.
“You been here before?” Laney asked her.
Without taking her eyes off the house, she nodded. That same fear she had radiated earlier had returned.
“You wait here. I’ll go knock on the door.”
“They won’t let you in. If I’m with you, I can explain.”
They both looked up at the house again.
“Sitting here ain’t doing the job,” said Laney. “What are we going to say?”
“If one of the girls answers the door, I can ask her if Katarina is here.”
“And if someone else answers?”
She looked away. “No one else will.”
“Then let’s go.”
At that moment, Gordana reached across, briefly touched Laney on the arm, looked her in the eyes. “You are a good person, Laney.”
A little taken aback, Laney said, “So are you.”
The moment broke and they both got out of the car. Laney locked it, then unlocked it, figuring they might need a quick getaway. She rounded the car and followed Gordana up the five front steps to the verandah, where they paused.
Gordana went to knock, but hesitated.
“I can do this,” Laney told her. “You go back to the car.”
A quick shake of the head. Gordana took a shuddering breath, then rapped her knuckles on the glass. Almost immediately, the door swung open.
At the sound of footsteps Laney swung around. Behind her, a big man in black pants and a white shirt raced up the steps and grabbed her, wrapping her in a bear hug with one arm across her throat, while a second man burst from the house and put a gun to her head.
“What took you so long?” the man with the gun asked.
<
br /> “We took the back streets,” Gordana replied.
Laney’s eyes went to Gordana, questioning. But Gordana stepped back, hands clasped at her mouth and her face crumpling. “I am so sorry, Laney. I’m so, so sorry.”
The pressure on Laney’s throat intensified until she couldn’t breathe. She kicked out, fists pummeling at him, desperate to wriggle free, but he slapped a stinking cloth over her face and her limbs went numb. Black dots appeared in her peripheral vision and spread.
Her brain did several flips, nausea welled. She closed her eyes, and the world around her disappeared.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DAY THREE—7:42 AM—ELIZABETH
Elizabeth had spent a sleepless night trying to put all the pieces together in her head before coming to a decision and making the call. By 6 AM, when she’d intended to get up, she felt drained. At the sound of a tiny knock at her bedroom door, she called, “Yes?”
The door cracked open and Holly peeped in. As soon as she saw Elizabeth, she burst into the room, running on tiptoe to the bed to peel back the covers and slide in against her mother.
Feeling a smile widen on her lips, Elizabeth shuffled back into the warmth of her bed to give her room. Holly slipped down under the covers wriggling until she’d molded to the shape of her mother’s body. In response, Elizabeth enveloped her, pulled her in. She could smell the sleep in her daughter’s hair, feel the warmth of her body against hers.
“What are you doing here, Missy?”
“I wan’ a tuddle.”
With her head propped up on one elbow, Elizabeth brushed back a wisp of Holly’s soft blonde hair and placed a kiss on her ear. Holly giggled and snuggled in closer, so Elizabeth did it again, firmer this time.
Holly chuckled and clapped her hand over her ear. “That tickle, Mommy.”
“I know it does. Lemme kiss you again and again,” she said, playfully wrestling her while planting kisses all over her face and neck, causing Holly to squeal in delight and kick her feet under the covers.
The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set Page 75