Corey looked down at her eight-year-old hands and realized the yellow light was coming from her fingers. She turned her hands to her face and tried to figure out what the hell was happening. The yellow light exploded before her eyes, filling her body with fiery heat and blinding her before it got sucked into her mouth and disappeared inside her.
Buzz-buzz.
Corey startled from her dream and took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She turned, disoriented in the darkness and looked at the phone.
Buzz-buzz.
She grabbed the phone, tapped the screen, and tried to clear the sound of sleep from her throat. “Proctor.”
“Inspector Corey Proctor?”
“Yes.”
“This is Special Agent Darrell Parks, Prestigium Investigations Office, New York.” His deep voice was accented and clipped, all business. “It is our understanding that you’re investigating a case that falls under our jurisdiction.”
“Prestigium?” Corey looked at her alarm clock. It was just after three in the morning. She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t understand. How does my case fall under PIO jurisdiction?”
“You attempted a search last night in the MCU database that flagged an ongoing investigation. A classified investigation. I’m not at liberty to discuss details beyond confirming the basis for your search. Did you query the database between eleven and eleven thirty last night seeking cases with a crescent-shaped, or half-moon brand burned into the skin of the victim?”
“Yes. I did.” Corey sat up in bed and pushed the covers away. She slipped into her old bathrobe. Kojak stirred and padded over to her. Corey rubbed the space between the dog’s ears.
“And the reason for this database query?”
“We have a body, a girl with a burn on her ank—”
“Thank you, Inspector. You are officially notified that you need to stand down in the Wanika Soto case. According to our file, she is one of the Half Moon Girls, and therefore our jurisdiction.”
“Half Moon Girls?” she asked, still not comprehending.
“Your superior, Lieutenant Inspector Halloran, will be cleared to brief you on some particulars. We’ve taken the liberty of sending an agent over from our Boston field office to debrief you.”
“Wait. There’s another girl. We think she’s alive.”
“She is no longer your concern, Inspector. I know it’s difficult, but this case is larger than one girl. Much larger. You will compile whatever information you have and brief Special Agent Terry Fox. She will meet you and Inspector Young at your station at ten o’clock this morning. That is all. Your cooperation is appreciated. Good day, Inspector Proctor.”
He disconnected and the phone went silent. Corey stared at the device in her hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Chapter Eleven
Thanks to her nightmare and the ridiculous wake-up call from Agent Parks at the PIO, Corey’s attempts at sleep were fruitless. She was out of bed before sunrise, dressed in shorts and an old t-shirt, with her Glock .40 in her shoulder holster. She zipped her phone into her shorts pocket and grabbed Kojak’s leash. By the time she got to the door, the dog was there, her long, muscular body waggling in anticipation.
They ran through the valley behind the cottage, Corey’s mind racing while Kojak bounded alongside her. She replayed the call from Special Agent Parks in her mind, frustration welling at the idea of handing over their case.
Corey let Kojak off-leash as the path took a bend and then headed up a steep incline to the lush ridge. She pumped her arms, forcing her legs to move through the burn in her calves and thighs as she reached the top. The sun was about to rise. At the peak, her phone rang and she answered it, her breathing heavy. “Proctor.”
“Corey, it’s Halloran. I need to give you a heads-up. I just got a call from the PIO.”
“They just called you now? Nice. I guess rank has its privileges. Special Agent Parks called me at three this morning. What gives, Danny? They’re taking our case?”
“Three this morning? Damn, I’m sorry, Corey. What a jerk. I just got off the phone with the Boston field office. Special Agent Fox is coming over this morning. Looks like they have something cooking that involves Wanika Soto.”
“We’re getting close, Danny. And there’s still a girl missing. Another local—Alicia Turnkey. We can’t just stop looking for her.”
“Yeah. I know. I told the Agent that. She knows. She also filled me in on a bunch of stuff with this case. It’s bad, Corey. Real bad. They call them Half Moon Girls.”
“Parks mentioned that.” Gooseflesh broke out on Corey’s arms at the name. “What does it mean?”
“Human trafficking of some kind. I don’t have all the information yet. They kidnap young witches, they don’t know yet how they choose them, but they find the powerful ones. Then they… they…” He clearly didn’t want to mention this part to her.
“What? It’s all right. I can take it,” she said. She hated being protected from anything people thought was too sensitive for her.
“They cut away their magical souls, Proctor. They bank the girls’ essence and use it to generate powerful dark magic or something. Without their magic, the girls are defenseless. They’re easy to entrance and made agreeable to be used by the men…”
Corey’s mouth went dry. They cut away their magical souls… This couldn’t be happening. “Sex slaves?” she whispered.
“I don’t know that.” Halloran’s voice was soft. “There’s a whole syndicate, worldwide. Fox said they’re in Tokyo, Bangkok, Shanghai, Dubai, Paris, Moscow, New York, all over, even here. The PIO team is part of an international task force. They have undercover agents in place, trying to find a way to break the ring.”
Corey’s vision narrowed. She dropped to her knees and felt like puking. How does this happen? There was so much evil in the world. She leaned over and blew out her breath, thinking about Alicia. They had to find Alicia.
Halloran continued, “The wranglers—the ones who find the girls and take their magic—they brand them with the half-moon. It’s some kind of sick code, a trademark that guarantees a clean, quality girl. Some very powerful people are involved, magical and mundane, Corey. It’s a big deal.”
“But what about Alicia Turnkey? Are we supposed to just stop looking for her? Hand over the case and what? Move on? It’s already been more than thirty hours.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Corey. This is out of my hands. Just be at the station to meet Special Agent Fox. You have a couple of hours.”
Corey hit the end call button and shouted as she slammed a fist into the dirt. “Damn it!”
Kojak stopped sniffing the ferns and turned, checking on Corey.
She whistled to her dog. “Come, girl. I’m fine.” Corey nuzzled her face into the dog’s neck, grateful to have such a fierce protector by her side. When she found Kojak, the dog had failed her training and was disqualified from joining the mundane police K-9 unit.
“She’s broke. That’s one broke dog.” The old trainer had said. “She don’t have the nose to track narcotics. She’s got all the other skills, though.” He’d smiled as he showed off the animal, who couldn’t be deployed in the human police force and was therefore useless to them.
She adopted the dog on the spot. She loved Kojak because the dog did just about everything she was supposed to, despite her shortcomings. She gave Corey hope for herself.
She dialed Young. He picked up after the fourth ring.
“Hey, partner.” He sounded half asleep.
“Sounds like you heard from the PIO last night, too?”
He yawned into the phone. “More like the PIA. The jerk called me around three in the morning. Who does that?”
“Me too. Damn guys don’t know how to tell time without their assistants holding their hands. They’re taking the case over.” Corey told Young all the details from her conversation with Lieutenant Halloran.
“Damn. That’s rough. Crazy to think someone
here is caught up in something like that. It’s bad enough they are taking their magic, but an international sex slave syndicate too? It seems so extra.”
Corey sighed and tried to calm her nerves. Someone had taken her magic, too. If she hadn’t been found, would she have ended up in the syndicate? Her dream floated through her mind, the image of Wanika Soto clawing at the sand filled her senses. Her words ringing in the back of her ears. You’re my Special Dolly.
“Yeah. I don’t like this, partner. It’s not right to hand this off. I feel like we’re about to find something out, you know?”
“Yeah, well, what are we gonna do? We’re the low men on the totem pole here,” Young said. “I’ll head in. Get the file together for Fox.”
“Ok. See you there.”
Corey got back to the house, gulped down a glass of water, and turned the shower on. She made sure Kojak had plenty of food and water, then she went back and sat on her bed. Her conversation with Bronwyn echoed in her mind. She’d promised to find Alicia. Handing the case over to someone else at this point felt wrong. She hadn’t met Special Agent Fox, but how could she trust anyone to find Alicia? No outsider was going to give the search as much as Corey and Young had.
She unclipped her shoulder holster and pulled out her phone, slipped out of her running clothes, and stepped into the shower. She let the steamy warmth cover her body, willing it to clear her head. She couldn’t let go of the tingle running through her. They were close to something and she didn’t like being told to back off. If they stopped now, Alicia might be lost forever.
As Corey drove in to the station, Young called again.
“Hey, partner,” she said.
“I got in and the Coast Guard report was on my desk. Turns out they did run patrols to check on boats that were out before of the storm.”
“Okay. Log it in and add it to the file for Agent Fox. I’m on my way.”
“Yeah, I will. But, get this… there were three boats out in the area we were looking at the night of the storm.”
It was a huge storm, and lots of notices went out to get boats in, sounds like a lot in one small area. “Three? Really?”
“Yeah. A container ship, the Polonius out of Norfolk, heading to Miami and then on to Shanghai. A charter boat, the Shoal Junkie doing the deep-sea fishing thing because the storm brought the big ones in, and the Penumbra, the sailboat that’s parked in the slip next to Damien’s boat. Coast Guard had it towed back in to Dorothy Cove Marina.”
“No way.” The news got Corey’s blood pumping. “Damien’s been working on that boat. Maybe he took it for a test drive and it died? You think the boyfriend’s lying?”
Young paused. “He doesn’t have an alibi.”
Corey thought about Damien Cooper. He seemed nice enough. But she’d been burned before by letting her guard down. “Wait a minute. The Penumbra’s been there all week for repairs. Needed a custom part. Wasn’t it the engine?”
“Hang on a second.” Young rustled papers, presumably looking through the file. “Yeah. Cooper’s boss said it needed a custom motor part. Been there a week. If the motor wasn’t running, how’d they take it out?”
“Well, it’s a sailboat, too,” Corey said. “But who would risk taking a motorless sailboat out when a huge storm is on its way? I mean, it was downgraded, but it was still a big storm.”
Young blew out his breath. “Oh man, Corey. The container ship. It was heading to Shanghai. Didn’t you say that was one of the places where they had the Half Moon Girls? Maybe that’s how they transfer them. At sea, on the container ships.”
Corey’s skin prickled. “Oh my God.”
“In that case, the question is, was the Penumbra heading out or heading back in when the Coast Guard stopped her?”
Corey asked, “How long does it take a container ship to sail from here to Shanghai?”
“I don’t know. Got to be weeks, three at least. Longer if it’s making a stop in Miami, right?”
“Holy shit, Young. We might have found a lead on Alicia.” Corey’s skin grew hot as she said it. Not now. Not now. You will not lose it now.
“I’ll call the Boston PIO. See if I can reach Special Agent Fox.”
Corey ended the call and stopped the truck at a red light. The image of Alicia from the photo-sharing site filled her mind. Just two days ago Alicia and Nikki were happy and free, their biggest worries probably grades, or boyfriends, or life after graduation. Then someone decided they were prey. She imagined Alicia, trapped on a container ship, alone and afraid. A car horn beeped. The light had turned green. Corey waved at the driver behind her and inched the truck forward.
“Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!” She turned on the mini light bar that sat behind her windshield and police lights flared to life. She gunned the engine, tires squealing on the pavement as she made an illegal u-turn.
Chapter Twelve
Corey turned into the parking lot at Dorothy Cove Marina without a plan. She hoped to speak to Damien Cooper, ask him some more questions, see how he reacted. But beyond that, she was winging it. She couldn’t face Bronwyn without doing everything she could to make sure of Alicia’s whereabouts. And there was no way she was handing off this case to the PIO without working until the very last moment gathering intel and evidence. Halloran said she had a couple of hours…
She parked on the far side of the lot, trying to get a view of the slips. There were still too many boats in the way to get a clear view of Damien’s boat or the Penumbra. She checked her Glock .40, secured it in her holster, made sure she had her cuffs, and hopped out of the truck.
The sea air held a vague tang of fish. A buoy bell clanged in the distance as a ship’s horn bellowed at a different pier. Corey followed the boardwalk past many vacant boats, most of them probably waiting for their owners to take them on weekend pleasure cruises around the island and out to the cape. The hollow thumps of fiberglass hulls rocking against bumpers and the trill of seagulls punctuated the concert of muffled harbor sounds.
Slip ninety-five still contained the Penumbra. The large sailboat was quiet, its navy-blue shades pulled down inside the cabin windows. The Bottom’s Up rocked gently in slip ninety-seven, one slot over. Corey climbed the first few rungs of the stepladder on the Bottom’s Up, and peered onto the deck. Damien Cooper lay asleep on the cushioned couch at the rear of the boat.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Young. Her phone beeped once. No signal. She should probably go back to the truck, drive inland until she could get through to her partner, let him know where she was. But there wasn’t time. If she left the docks and came back, she wouldn’t be able to interview Cooper and get back by ten for the meeting with Fox. Either way, once the PIO took over, she’d be off the case. They had proof that someone had taken the Penumbra out the night the girls were taken. If it wasn’t Damien, then maybe he had information—details he’d seen without realizing it. Screw it. She wasn’t going to waste an opportunity like this.
She slipped her phone back in her pocket, stepped up on the deck of the Bottom’s Up, and knocked a few times on the cabin wall. Cooper didn’t stir. She climbed aboard and walked to the seating area and stood in front of Nikki Soto’s boyfriend, wondering if she was looking at a murderer. It wasn’t like evil wore a sign letting you know you were getting too close.
She touched Damien’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
His eyes fluttered and he flinched awake, scooting back into the cushions. “Yo! What are you doing?” He reeked of alcohol.
Corey glanced around. A bottle of tequila stood on the deck near the couch, empty. Drinking away a guilty conscience, perhaps? “Sorry. I knocked. I’m Inspector Proctor. From yesterday.”
He blinked his bloodshot eyes and squinted at her. “Yeah, I remember you. Is it true? Is Nikki dead?”
“How did you hear? We haven’t released her name yet.”
“Her mother called late last night. Ripped me a new one. Told me it was my fault Nikki was dead.” He shook his head and stared at the deck
. He’d thrown a tarp over the machine parts that still lay spread out on the sheet. “You sure it’s her? The girl they found?”
Corey nodded. “We’re sure.”
“I can’t believe it.” Damien’s face crumpled and he covered it with his hands. “She was a good person.” His shoulders shook under silent sobs.
Corey went to the cabin, glanced around, and found a cooler full of water bottles. She brought one back and handed it to Damien. She waited for him to compose himself again.
“So, when we talked to your boss, he said the Penumbra had been docked here since Sunday. Is that right?”
He wiped his eyes. “Yeah, I can check, but I think so.”
“Do you ever take the boats out yourself? To test them or anything like that?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. It depends on what I’m fixing.”
“And did you take the Penumbra out on Wednesday night?”
“Wednesday? No, that’s the night of the storm, right? I left, remember? Had a repair over in Black Rock Point. I stayed over at my friend’s place.”
“The Blue Manatee, right,” Corey said, recalling the details from her first conversation with Damien. “That checked out, the repair. But thing is, I can’t reach your friend to confirm you stayed at his place after. How do I know you didn’t come back here? The Coast Guard says the Penumbra was out on Wednesday night. Had to be towed in.”
“Whoa, you can’t think I had anything to do with anything just because my friend isn’t around to prove I was at his place.” He glanced over at the Penumbra. The fifty-foot sailboat bobbed slowly with the tide. “That boat wasn’t running at all. The exhaust manifold was totally corroded, had to be replaced.” He shook his head.
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